The Joy and the Pain

Today in church at the 44th Branch for the Deaf in Lehi Utah, I watched something really beautiful

I watched a tiny little girl fitted with two cochlear implants whose lights persistently flashed green, her back turned to the video screen as she followed my daughter-in-law in signing a song. She quickly picked up on all the signs as her mom tried to get her to turn around. 

She had no interest in the video screen. She was interested in real people. These were people like her and they were communicating more than the words to a song. They were communicating hope for her future. These two deaf adults and their hearing children who are all very capable in ASL were educating her.

In no time at all, she was making the connection in ASL what their names were. She connected that like she connected that, like her, there was a mom and dad sitting with two girls and a boy. She was the third girl in her family. She didn’t know there was a third girl in the other family as well, who was away to college. She didn’t know that there was yet another girl watching from her heavenly home.

All she knew was there were a bunch of other people who were more than willing to communicate in her language to make her feel a part of this life into which she was thrust. I couldn’t help but think of my children 45 years ago plus and how hard I worked to get services for them and I couldn’t help but think of the work ahead for these young parents who have chosen to raise her with every available resource, implants, voice, gestures and ASL. Every deaf child should be so fortunate. These parents are clearly invested in the success of their child.

I also can’t help but think as I write this, of the beautiful young deaf woman who just last week took her own life. I didn’t know her but I know that just a few years ago she was Miss Deaf Utah. I also know that everyone said how beautiful she was and how bright and how happy and multiples of all of this. There was also talk of not understanding and how it didn’t make sense. 

That kind of pain and loss never makes sense. Somehow though, in her beautiful mind it made sense to her. Somehow, she thought this made sense and would not only relieve her pain but would help others. Those who grieve for her and cry for her and miss her do not understand why she couldn’t wait until the sun came up again. Sometimes in the mind of a person in pain, there is not going to be another sunrise.

That is why we need to find answers. We need to recognize pain hidden behind a happy, fake smile. We need to ask why, what, how we will change this dynamic. Who can I check on? Who seems fine but carries a heavy burden? Who can I help through this pain? Whose depression and anxiety can I take seriously? How can I be part of the change?

We, like these young parents, need to become part of the solution. We need to offer help and hope. We need to be strong enough to say, “I have been through that and there will be another sunrise!” to someone for whom things seem so very dark. We need to offer help and hope and healing not just for a moment but for as long as it takes.

I have lost two family members and many friends and acquaintances to this thing that plagues us now. Somehow, somehow, these people young and old are not aware that they are worth anything and everything that it takes to help and understand their needs. We need to do this so that those fake smiles become real smiles because it is understood that we love them and they are needed here, now, with you and I!