1
My parents named me Song, it's a unique name in itself but a rather ironic one for a deaf child. Of course when they decided upon the name they hadn't known I was going to be deaf. Both my parents were hearing, in fact no one in either of their families had ever been born with the slightest of hearing difficulties. If anything, they had an affinity for hearing.
Both their families were musical inclined and had generations of family members who were involved in music one way or another. My mother was classically trained in nearly every instrument but was said to be most attuned with the bass. She was said to play it with such ease that it almost seemed like part of her. My grandfather had been the lead singer in a famous rock band but had tragically died or a drug overdose when my father was eleven. My father was said to have a voice like no other and sought to emulate his father, with a famous rock band of his own.
My parents upbringing couldn't have been more different. My mother had strict upbringing and was often expected to preform for family and friends. My father was on his own at fourteen, he jumped trains from one city to the next. He stole his first guitar and used to to make some money until he was eventually discovered. In their early twenties they each carved out their own paths in their respective worlds. My mother joined a famous orchestra and my father started up his rock band.
One fateful night in their mid-twenties a friend introduced them at a charity event and it was said to be love at first sight. They both abandoned everything they knew to come together in their love of music. My mother with her instruments and my father with his voice and lyrics. They wanted to make such beautiful music together. When they found out they were pregnant with me they were overjoyed. I was to be the song of their love. Their greatest musical master pieces...they both had such plans.
You can imagine their disappointment, when they had me, for over a year they took me to every doctor they could find to fix me but time and time again they were told, I couldn't and wouldn't be able to hear. While medicine was advancing, at the time they could not preform the needed surgeries on such a young child.
My father didn't want to deal with any of it, he took to drugs and drinking. When he and my mother started fighting, he booked himself a world renown tour and took of with his band. He left my mother to raise me on her own. She tried to seek help from her parents but they had disowned her after she'd eloped with my father.
She had to quit playing all together and sold every instrument she owned save for her bass. She couldn't bare to part with it. She let it collect dust in the corner of our small studio apartment as she decided to put all her time and energy into me.
Still in denial... my mother thought if she put enough work into me as she had her instruments that I would somehow improve. She didn't seem me as I was but as she wanted me to be. She wanted a hearing child, so my mother thought that if she treated me as if I could hear, that in time I would.
She refused to sign language and taught me to read her lips. She would speak to me as if I could here here. She would make over extenuated gestures but I didn't understand her. I was told we struggled to connect. Day after day, time after time...she refused to accept things as they were.
She put me on a strict system of reward and punishment. If I got her instructions right I would be rewarded with a toys or candy. If I failed to understand or follow her instructions I was punished. Depending on her level of disappointment punishments changed. From a slap on the wrist, to being spanked, shaken or in the worst case locked in the closet for hours at a time. More often then not I was punished.
Unable to understand what was going on around me, I became frustrated and acted out. She grew tired and soon stopped trying to teach me anything. She'd lose herself in playing her bass for hours at a time. More often then not I was left to my own devices. One day when I touched her precious bass and it fell over she'd had it with me. I'd continually failed to meet her expectations of me and she could take no more.
Instead of punishing me she took me to my grandmothers house and left me on the doorstep with a note. My grandmother had just recently lost my grandfather. She was beside herself with grief and didn't know what to do with me. She tried to find my mother but she was no where to be found.
She tried to contact my father but he was unreachable somewhere on the other side of the country.
She considered putting me up for adoption but learned it would be hard to place me with a family, not just because of my hearing but because of my behavioral issues from years of mistreatment. In the end she rolled up her sleeves and deiced to raise me herself. We didn't get along in the beginning, I didn't know her, didn't understand what was going on...then again I never did.
I wanted my mother, I broke a lot of things, ran away, bit and scratched. She sought out several experts, who instructed her to put me in a school for the deaf and special therapy for my behavioral issues. It was a long hard road but eventually it began to work, I was taught sign language, reading, writing, proper behaviors and ways to communicate my feelings. My whole world began opening up.
I don't remember much from that time, most of what I learned is from others stories and my grandmothers diary. When my dad finally got word of what had happened he'd stop by sometimes but could never stay long. He always had some place else he had to be. He'd give me a toy and my grandmother some money before taking off once more.
My grandmother learned sign language so she could communicate with me. She didn't sugar coat things, she was getting on in her years and didn't have time to mess around. She informed me about my family's linage, about how my parents had met, fell in love and eloped over their love of music. She admitted to disowning my mother but with good reason.
She'd been handed everything and thrown it away on a whim, for some man she barely knew. She'd wasted all her potential for someone who ultimately left her when things got too hard. After my father left my mother she tried to come back but grandfather believed you had to lie in the bed you made. I didn't quiet understand what that meant but..there were a lot of things I didn't understand.
Grandma explained what she could but insisted it didn't matter if I understood everything, I just had to accept my lot in life and move on. I continued to grow closer to her and we went over many things. One day she tried to show me music. Though I couldn't hear she had an old record player and speakers that could vibrate. I came to know music in the form of movements. I didn't quiet understand why such vibrations were important but I could see the enjoyment on my grandmother's face whenever we listened to one of my grandfathers old records. He used to be a violinist. I could tell she missed him. She'd always get this far off look in her eyes and her signing would become slow when she mentioned him.
I grew to love her dearly and wanted to help her. I noticed some things were hard for her and would try to help her where I could. I learned to take on small tasks around the house. She taught me how to take care of myself and the things around me. She never made me feel bad for being deaf, she was patient with me and would often remind me though I was different, differences could be beautiful. Not all butterflies were the same and neither were people.
Sometimes late at night in bed, I wondered why my mother and father couldn't see that...but eventually I stopped wanting for them. Instead I began to think of my grandmother as my parents. For a time, life was good, stable and safe. I felt wanted and loved. I made friends at school and the future looked bright but that time didn't last long.
Before I was ten, my grandmother suddenly passed away. I was at school when they found out. I didn't quiet understand what they meant by she was gone. I knew of death but my grandmother couldn't be dead...she wouldn't leave me. It took hours to sink in. I spent all day in the head office and then a stranger came for me. I had to go with them and stay in a house with other children, who didn't have parents. It was scary, none of the other kids understood me, I wanted my grandmother more then ever.
The social workers couldn't reach my dad but they somehow found my mother. She had remarried and had several hearing children. When she and her new husband came to get me, I spied on them. She wasn't happy to come get me. I watched her lips as she talked to her new husband. She didn't want to take me in but she knew how that would look. When she spoke with the social worker she said she'd only keep me for a few days just until my father could be found.
It was strange meeting her again...especially knowing how she felt. I tried to sign to her but she still didn't want anything to do with it. She wouldn't look at it, calling it moving my hands about. She acted like it was nonsense. I could write now and wrote things down for her but she said my handwriting was chicken scratch. She insisted I read her lips and forbid me to do sign language in her house. She didn't wanting her young hearing kids to pick up on it.
On the way to her home she got me a penmanship book. If there was one last thing she could do for me before my father came to collect me, it would be to improve my handwriting. I practiced my letters for days, while I waited for my father to come get me but days turned into weeks. It was the most awful time in my life. I constantly felt unwanted and unable to communicate. I never felt more alone. Soon a decision had to be made about me.
My mother got me a bed and gave me a room but she couldn't afford my therapist or keep me in my special school for the deaf, it was too expensive. Instead she signed me up for public school.
My new school had a teachers who knew some sign language but it was nothing like my old school. There were a lot of kids and the teacher didn't have a lot of time to spend between each of us.
I remember being crowded on my first day, so many mouths moving, I couldn't read them all. I tried to use sign language and writing but the kids soon became disappointed and bored. They stopped trying to talk to me and instead made faces at me and tease me. Thought I couldn't hear them I could read what they were saying and would cry a lot.
I hated going to school. When I couldn't keep up with the school work they began to sit me in the back corner. Eventually they moved me into a special education room. Each of the students had special requirements. The classroom size was much smaller, there were more teachers between kids but they were still learning sign language. I had to write things down or show them the way I learned.
Slowly I got to know the other kids in my class, there was a girl who had asthma, another who was always so hyper and would run around throwing things everywhere. There were two boys in wheel chairs and a boy who had seizures. On my first day in the new class room he fell to the ground and started shaking violently. The teachers rushed to him putting him on his side. When he came out of it they gave him juice and he sat in the corner by himself. He wasn't allowed to do pretty much anything or it might set him off.
His name was Gideon but everyone called him Eon for short. The teacher often paired us together because the other kids could be too loud and active. We would quietly sit together and do jigsaw puzzles or color pictures together. He didn't know sign language but wanted to learn, I taught him and over time we learned to communicate with each other. He became my first and best friend.
As time went on the teachers slowly got better at sign language and my hand writing improved. I was able to communicate a lot more and follow what they were teaching me. I had a lot to catch up on and would often stay after school, my mother didn't mind and I loved being around Eon. We'd started to have full conversations and got to know each other more and more. Things seemed to be improving and I no longer hated going to school.
No...instead I dreaded going home. At home my mother treated me like I was still a baby. Whenever I tried to help out or do something she'd take it from me and do it herself. She'd slap my hands if I forgot and started to sign. Sometimes I'd read her lips and I'd saw the nasty things she'd say. "You're so stupid. You don't know how to do anything right. Even a toddler can do more then you,"
It hurt a lot. I tried to use what I learned in therapy. I wrote my feelings out and asked her to show me how to do things right. I informed her how grandmother showed me things but she just shook her head and said she didn't have the time.
Her husband Marty was always quiet. He would play with his children but was awkward when he addressed me, for the most part he avoided interactions with me. He didn't like all my notes saying it was wasting paper and as they had more kids, they had less time to spend with me. Sometimes I tried to connect with my half-sibling but they were still so young they couldn't read very well and didn't understand me most the time. I also didn't understand them. I mostly took care of my needs and spent a lot of time alone in my room with library books.
When I eleven my father came back into my life, he had been in rehab for drugs. My mom wanted him to take me but he was living out of a van with his girlfriend. They were going to be having kids soon. He wanted to make things right with me and learned some sign language, we had a few conversations and I got to know his girlfriend a little. She was so nice and wanted to learn sign too.
He signed he'd get a place one day and that I could come and live with them if I wanted. I signed I wanted, I wanted to live with them so badly, I wanted them to be my family anyone was better then where I was now. However after they had twins, it was a lot for them to handle.
My dad had to get two jobs and their place was so small. I visited as often as I could until one day, my dad died from a drug overdose just before my thirteenth birthday. His girlfriend moved in with her mother, half way across the county and I didn't get to see her or the twins anymore.
When I was fourteen my mom took me to more doctors and they would look at my ears. There was talk of having surgery to "correct me" but I didn't think there was anything wrong with me. Eon didn't think so either. He thought it was cool that I couldn't hear, that it was kind of like a weird super power. I never really thought of it like that. I told him it was hard to communicate with others but he said it must have been nice to be able to drown people out you didn't want to talk to them or shut out loud noises. He admitted he'd rather be deaf then have seizures. I didn't know how to respond to that.
Over the next few months, mom kept insisting I get the implants but my doctor made it clear it was ultimately up to me to choose. I wasn't quiet sure how I felt about it, the hearing world didn't really interest me. I was used to how things were. For a while my mom was nice to me. She took me school shopping and pointing out all the things I could do if I could hear. I could go to movies with her and learn about music or we could just talk. She'd love to be able to talk to her daughter.
She made it seem like my hearing would change everything between us but over the years I'd notice even people who could hear still had communication issues. They'd say things that didn't match up with their expressions, they'd talk over each other, their mouths moving at the same time.
My mom would talk shit about my, step dad to her friends on the phone and would act like nothing was wrong when they got home. Sometimes they'd get into fights a lot about the bills and him being gone a lot. She'd accuse him of leaving her like her first husband had of cheating on her with everything that had two legs. My little siblings would huddle together and cover their ears from all the noises. When Marty got laid off from work, he gained a lot of weight would stomp around the house getting angry. Eventually he spent all his time in the garage, drinking and cursing at the world.
My younger siblings would often hide in my room. They were a bit older now and we got along better...at least when mom wasn't around. I helped them out when I could. Sometimes I'd make their food, I'd pour their cereal or make them toast, cutting off the crust. I'd do dishes and clean up things after wards. I'd help the with their home work and even did laundry after reading the instructions and watching how my mother did it a few dozen times. She'd always assumed someone else had done everything.
She'd reward my younger brother for taking care of the littler ones. He used to tell her it was me but she just waved it off. Eventually he stopped telling her and just shared the reward he got with me. I tried to bond with him, he'd read my notes sometimes but wasn't very good at reading...I think he didn't see the words right or something. I noticed his handwriting was all weird. He kept getting in trouble in school. He mostly like to play with stick and hit things. Eon told me he was pretty good at drumming, he could keep a nice beat.
Eon was so good at sign language that he could start translating for me. My mom let him stick around and I was able to communicate with my siblings some. I also liked having Eon come over.
I held off on getting the surgery for a few more years but finally gave into the possibility of hearing.
I allowed my mom to sign me up for the implants. To be honest, the reason I decided on it was a bit silly and selfish really but I wanted to hear what Eon sounded like. He was my best friend in the whole wide world. He knew how to sign really good and we could have conversations for hours on end but there were moments he'd look at me and his mouth would move and I wouldn't quite catch what he'd just said. He'd play it off and smile at me and I felt like he was saying something important. I wanted to hear him.
I requested he be there after everything was done, that he be the first person I heard. I got the surgery and at sixteen surrounded by my family and friend they turned on my ears. Eon was the first to call out my name, breaking the silence I had always known.
"Song, Song, Can you hear me?"
It was shocking to hear him! I don't know what I thought he'd sound like...or what I thought sounds would be like in general, it was all so strange. I had no idea. there was so much...so many different type. Like everything made a sound, everything doors, windows, dogs, grass, fans, rain, thunder, clapping, feet, shoes, noses, farts, breaths and music….music was the strangest of them all it was like sound overload of sounds.
Those first few months I listened to hundreds of songs. I had felt the vibration of music before but there were some things that felt different after listening to them. Also every word had a different sound. It too time learn them, my mom hoped I'd be able to speak one day but we couldn't afford a speech therapist. My teachers tried to work with me and sometimes I made sounds but it was never like the sounds I heard.
I quickly found, my favorite sounds were rain, wind, birds and of course the ones Eon made. I loved all his sounds. His humming, the little grunts he'd made when lifting heavy things, his breaths, sneezing and most of all the sound of his voice when he said my name and "I love you," For the first time I realized what those words sounded like.
I could hear my brother banging on everything and the sounds that my hands made when I clapped. My sisters screaming as they rain through the house...the edge of fear as my step fathers voice rattled a room. There were a lot of scary...sounds but way more lovely sounds.
One day my mother pulled out her bass and played for me. All my siblings could play an instrument and she insisted on it. Some of them could even sing. I wanted to join in. I wanted to learn the piano or harp but my mother said it was too late. I had to learn when I was younger that instruments took time and life long dedication to truly master. If I couldn't master something it wasn't worth it.
I swore to her I could be dedication...that I could put in the hours but she brushed me off. That night I overheard her talking to my step dad. She said she'd never heard of a deaf musician...the implants were nice but music came from the soul, came from real ears not electronic ones. She also said she'd just die if I started talking at a concert or singing. If anyone heard those awful noses I made it would just be the worst. She mimicked the sounds I made and he laughed making his own sounds back. She hoped we'd be able to afford speech therapist soon but Marty doubted it.
I was crushed by my mothers harsh words. I had gotten the implants for myself but I had also gotten them for her. A part of me still hoped to be closer to her but we never went to a single move, we never did shopping and she still didn't have time to talk to me. I realized then she still didn't see me. I snuck out and went to Eon's.
He was still up when I climbed up to his second floor window and lightly tapped on the window. He was reading and looked up, I worried I might surprise him but he smiled happy to see me he opened his window and I climbed in.
We embraced and he could see I was upset, for hours I paced about in his room signing about how frustrated and hurt I was. No matter what I did, my mother would never see me, never except me for as I was. She'd always find some flaw, be it my lack of hearing and now my voice. I would always be lacking in her eyes, I'd never be enough.
I just felt heartbroken. I burst into tears and even those made a sound...an awful sound. Eon listened to me vent and then assured me that her opinion of me didn't mattered. What mattered was my own. He thought I was so smart, beautiful and that I could do anything I wanted. He held me in his arms and that night we shared our first kiss.
I ended up falling asleep in his embrace. We were both a little worried we'd be in trouble but his family didn't notice and mine didn't even realize I was gone. We officially started dating after that. We'd been friends for years...loved each other as friends but now that we were together as a couple things felt different.
Time felt like it moved slower, everything was precious, important. I felt this constant sense of joy that even my mother couldn't tear down. I wanted to be around him all the time. He was the first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing I thought about before I went to bed. We had to keep our relationship on the down low from his family. His mother was a bit of helicopter mom and didn't like changes, given his condition I understood why.
We took our time, holding hands, sharing longing glances, private jokes and little moments that only he and I knew about. We made out more then a few times and almost went all the way but we wanted to wait and make our first time special. We made a date at the beginning of our senior year.
We dressed up, spent the day together having fun and returned to his place. We took a long walk out to the open field on his family's farm. This time of year there still so many flowers. The land had a slope to it and from where we were we couldn't see anyone around us. We used to like to lay down and watch the clouds go by.
That day we laid out our big blanket on the grass and held each other for the longest time. Slowly we began to make love and became one. It was unlike anything either of us could have imagined. I felt like everything else faded away and it was just us together in that moment. It felt so good, so right, like our love was always meant to be. I didn't ever want it to end but when it finally did tragedy struck.
During climax, Eon began to have a massive seizure. I knew what to do, I'd been train years ago on how to handle one of his seizures. I turned him on his side and waited for it to pass but it didn't. When it had gone on for too long, I went to get his emergency medicine. I'd done the injection once before and hoped I could do it again. I froze when I realized his medicine wasn't there. He always ALWAYS kept in his coat but that day... that day I'd wanted to look good, knowing what we'd planned on doing. I'd worn a dress and while we were out at the mall, we'd gotten some ice cream and I'd gotten cold.
He let me wear his coat. When we got to his house I went to the bathroom. I took off his coat to make sure my hair looked good and freshened up my make up. When I left, I hadn't taken his coat with me. I left it on the bathroom counter... back at his house.
Horrified I scrambled to my feet. I ran to get help, back at his house, his mother was in the garden. It took me some time to alert her. She told her daughter to call an ambulance. We got his medicine and ran back out to the field, he was still seizing. When she saw he was naked, she knew what we were doing.
She injected him and he stopped seizing but he didn't wake up, the ambulance came and took him away. I wasn't allowed to go with them. When I got to the hospital, his mother was in tears, Eon was in a coma. She blamed me for it and forbid me from seeing him. She said I tried to kill her son. She tried to get at me but Eon's dad held her back. Her words stung but I knew it was all my fault.
Security escorted me out of the hospital and the police took me home. When I got home they explained what had happened. When they left my mother tore into me and my stepfather back her up. They said, I was a tramp, that I should have known better then to stimulate the seizure by like that. They said I could have killed him and might have. I didn't care what anyone said. The only opinion that mattered was Gideon's.
Everyday I found a way to get to the hospital. I made sure to keep my distance so I wouldn't get kicked out. Sometimes I'd get a glimpse of him on a machine or being transferred for tests. I'd listen where I could but mostly cauth the lips of his nurses and doctors, when they talked to his parents or when his parents talked to other family members. They weren't sure how much damage had been done but it wasn't good. Even if he came out of his comma they weren't sure what his mental condition might be if any. They were trying different treatments...but wanted to prepare the family for the possibility that he might not recover.
I stopped going to school, thinking any minute could be his last. I had to be there for him. I barely came home, barely ate, barely slept. I just waited, waited for my love to wake up, for him to be okay. He had too, he had to be okay. I'd already lost so many people in my like I couldn't lose him. The longer he was out, the more I realized how he was my entire world...He'd been a constant in all the chaos.
One day, I came to the hospital and heard he'd woken up. I was overjoyed. I wanted to see him so badly but his mother still didn't want me seeing him. She threatened to get a restraining order against me if I cam anywhere near him. My mother even forbid me to go to the hospital but when I found out they were transferring him to another hospital far, far away nothing could keep me from him. I snuck into his room, during the middle of the night. I thought he might be asleep but he was wide awake, sitting up in his bed. I was so happy to see him, I couldn't contain myself.
I went to his bedside and signed how much I missed him, how sorry I was about his coat and the medicine. I signed how worried I was about everything that had been going on and asked how he was feeling. He just stared at me with this blank expression on his face. I worried he didn't understand...that maybe he was on some sort of medication or had some brain damaged but after a minute or so his gaze shifted and he looked at me. I'd never seen his look before. His ocean blue eyes were so cold...so distant.
He spoke slowly struggling to say each word. "Go...go...away...leave...me...alone."
I stood there confused. His eyes shifted once more he looked angry with me now. I signed to him, I apologized again, went on that I loved him so much, I realized he was my entire world and I didn't want to be without him. I was so sorry for everything. He wouldn't look at my hands. He wouldn't look at me. He just got more and more upset. He struggled to lift his arms knocking a water basin and cup to the floor, from the end table next to his hospital bed. I could hear the beeping of machines go off as he exerted himself. He closed his eyes and screamed. "I...HATE...YOU! I... HATE... YOU! GO! AWAY! LEAVE... ME ALONE"
I stumbled back hearing such hurtful words. He hated me! HE HATED ME! He wanted me to go away and leave him alone. I was in shock with what was happening. Did he really blame me. It was an accident! I didn't mean to forgot! He opened his eyes and they were full of such spite…I realized he...he meant what he said. For a moment pain flashed across his eyes, he looked hurt then disgusted before he turned away from me.
A second later a nurse came bursting into the room. When she saw me there, she got upset. She called security and pulled me from the room. She wanted to know who I was, how I'd gotten there and threatened to call the police.
It was funny...I could hear every word the nurse said but it was like I barely heard her. I barely heard anything that was said to me that night. Eon's words just kept echoing through me. "I HATE YOU! GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
What he said... the way he looked at me... He...it was clear he was done with me. After all we had together, he wanted nothing to do with me. He no longer loved me...he hated me. The police took me home again that night. My parents didn't yell at me, Marty had an interview in the morning and the others were still asleep. I was grounded to my room until they could decide on a popper punishment not that it mattered. I felt absolutely gutted. I collapsed in my bed but barely slept.
Later that the morning after my siblings had gone to school, a man came to our house with a police officer. My mother got the door and demanded I come out of my room. When I went to her I was served with a restraining order, legally I wasn't allowed to go near Eon or contact him or his family in any way.
After they left my mother was furious, she slapped me across the face and called me a "Stupid, stupid girl." She yelled asking me "If I wanted to be locked up."
I went to sign and she slapped my hands down. I tried to write it down but she ripped it up, She didn't want my response. She didn't want to know how I felt she just sent me back to my room. As soon as Marty go home from his interview, she couldn't wait to tell him what happened. He came into my room and yelled at me, asking me if my brain was as defective. They grounded for the rest of the year but I didn't care that could have grounded me for life...given me a million restrain orders it wouldn't matter. I felt dead inside.
I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and crushed. Over and over again I just kept hearing Eon say he hated me me. I didn't want to hear it anymore. I didn't want to hear anything anymore. Sound, was overrated. Hearing...was just noise. I couldn't stand any of it.
In a moment of overwhelming anguish I ripped my implants out and smashed them into the ground. I tried to starch the part still in my head out, then cut them out with scissors...it hurt so bad and there was so much blood but I didn't care, I never wanted to hear again.
One of my siblings found me and told on me. I was bleeding a lot by then I had to be rushed to the hospital but I realized the sounds had stopped...there was no more noise. The only thing that remained was the silence…I realized how much I had missed it and vowed never to hear again.
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