While I may not fully understand the world of the deaf, I have a cousin who embraces it with grace. He's considerably older than me, and in the moments we've shared, he exudes a contagious joy. He is remarkably humble, cheerful, and ever-ready to lend a helping hand.
In his presence, I've witnessed the beauty of silent conversations. My father, well-versed in sign language, engages in heartwarming exchanges with my cousin. It's a connection that resonates with genuine understanding.
My cousin is a family man, with a wife and a daughter. Interestingly, his wife is also deaf, their young daughter is not. Her daughter at just five years old, had mastered sign language, enabling her to communicate effortlessly with both her father and mother.
I had a fleeting experience of what it means to be without sound when I shout at the top of my voice one day. For a brief moment, I found myself in a world of silence, where everything around me faded into quietude. It was as though I had vanished amidst a crowd, unable to comprehend the words spoken around me. When my voice and hearing returned, I made a solemn promise never to shout again. The thought of losing my voice was a stark reminder of the invaluable gift of sound.