Signs and Gestures

Photo by Robert Doineau
French Photographer
1912-1994

       Silence. All he could hear is bear silence. I know it. I understand. I am capable of understanding him in the nude silence he would always bring, yet his presence, the mere brightness of his effervescent personality, shatters it all. Silence is something that is so abstract to many yet the only tangible thing for us.
Many times I stare at him. He seems so distant, even though I could touch the softness of his hair, even though I could feel the strength of his muscles. As much as possible he tries to make things normal, between us, between everybody around us. I know he knows that it will never be normal. Things I wanted to share to him are things that I cannot explain. I rely on the simplest of his gestures. He does the same to me. I know he is waiting for me to speak, yet speech alone is not a way for us to understand each other. He writes me letters. I do not reply. He never forgets my birthday, I do not understand why. I know he loves me so much, I feel the same, but I have no assurance that he could feel the efforts in showing my affection towards him.        My love for him is true, genuinely true. Yet his language, my language are but clashing with words that we cannot settle on speech alone. He relies on the formation of my lips. He relies on the facial expression that is painted upon the canvass of my face. He does not know that I am wearing a mask. A mask of sadness, a mask of sympathy, I feel so sorry, not just for him but for myself.
Am I too self-conceited to say that I am surrendering? Am I selfish to say that I know this would not work? Am I too absurd to say that I cannot understand a single word he says? Maybe, the only answer among all my queries is yes. Yes, I am self-conceited and selfish because I thought of surrendering. Yes, I am absurd because I thought that I am not capable of understanding him without even trying. Distance alone is the only answer for me to stop questioning the credibility of my love for him. Yet he ties us together with his very own silence. His silence alone is the only silence I know that does not bring peace. Rather, that same peace pinches my heart with sympathy. He is there to rely on my gestures while I rely on his signs.
I admit it was hard mastering his language, I do not even know how to say “I love you”, in a manner that he would understand and appreciate. The only way I could say it is when I write it upon his bear skin. His flesh is the canvass of those feelings that I want him to hear, of those feelings I want him to know, of those feelings I want him to understand. My own brother is so wide minded he would choose not to speak for what could he possibly say? He is both deaf and mute. The only reply that he usually gives me is a hug and all I could give back is a tear drop.