How I got this wedding ring around my fourth finger is something that I will carry for a lifetime.
It was nothing grand. No silly surprises, no dancing mob, no gargantuan signposts or whatnot. I was astonished, nonetheless. I never expected it to happen, but when it did, it felt really different. Not in a bad way. Imagine watching a cocoon slowly opening. It’s supposed to reveal a butterfly, but instead it unraveled a bee.
It definitely wasn’t easy.
My beloved grandmother was a deaf-mute, and when she died, I decided to use my sign language skills to teach people who cannot talk nor hear. I’ve been a teacher for seven years now, and there wasn’t a day when I didn’t feel important. Needed.
Of course it required patience. A whole lot of patience. It’s hard to walk with baby steps when you know you can simply stride. It’s a quite challenging game. But it is only in this game where both teams win. I show them how to speak, and they show me how to listen.
My students, as they come and go, have each found a place in my heart and my memory. They had different cases, but all the same, they knew how to fight. They didn’t treat their disability as a weakness, but as a medium through which their strength navigates.
There was one particular student who etched an unusual kind of mark in my system. He was a shy guy among my first batch of students, the son of a rich businessman in our city, about my age. I was eighteen back then. He was the second youngest in the group. He could only hear.
If my students weren’t mute, they would be loquacious. Except for him. In a storm, they were the clapping thunders, and he was the gust of wind.
He was a fast learner, but it took me a long time to understand him. Who he really was. When he was ready, he broke his walls down.
“If God gave you a voice, how will you use it?” I asked him one day after class.
I want to teach children how to read. He replied through gestures. And if I can, I’ll use my voice to sing you a song, so you’ll know how beautiful you are.
After six years, this young man came back and told me things that meant a lot to me. He told me that I have always been a teacher, an inspiration, and a friend. Then he told me things that took my breath away.
He asked for the rest of my days. I asked why.
Because I love you.
And he said it like it was the most normal thing in the universe, as if a bee was meant to emerge from a spun cocoon.
“Just like that?”
Yes.
Just like that.
I want to tell you a million words but I can only make gestures. It’s different, the way we speak, but a million words won’t matter if they are not made to be grasped. As long as I can show you what I feel, and you understand me, nothing can hold us back.
And like the strong gust of wind that he is, he blew me away.
“But what if they tell us that we’re not going to make it?”
Then I won’t listen.
He could’ve just said that he won’t be able to hear. It just meant that even if he had ears that function, he would turn a deaf one to the cynics.
“If you love me, how will I know?”
I’ll make you feel lovely every day, and double that effort when you don’t believe me. I’ll straighten the wrinkles on your temples when we argue. If we ever have kids, I’m going to be a good father, and we’ll name them all after you. I may not be able to talk but I can cook, and I will cook food to satisfy your tummies, hoping that it also satisfies your hearts. When you’re sick, I’ll take care of you, and I’ll hold you tight when you’re afraid. I’ll stand beside you until time fades. And if all of that is still not enough…
He softly planted a kiss on my forehead. I appreciated that he respected me well enough. I didn’t catch exactly what he said after that, but I think it was something like this:
You’ll just have to trust me.
“But what if… I don’t love you back?”
Long pause.
Then I’ll let you go.
“Just like that?”
He smiled and shook his head.
No.
“Why do you love me?”
Because...
He pointed to a poster on my wall. It was a shoe advertisement which eventually turned into one of my motivational doodads.
“Just…do it?"
A helpless smile formed upon his face, as he covered a part of the poster with his hand. The other hand he rested on his chest.
I just do.
I didn’t need to hear any words to make me believe him. In his own eloquence, he was able to speak the language of the universe, that is, love. And we both knew that it was something that no expression can utterly define. It speaks for itself, and it insists to be heard.
