We went to Ken Cannon's Aunt Lena's funeral yesterday, which moved me in all kinds of ways. One of the loveliest moments was when her daughter, Cindy, spoke.
Cindy, a child of the 1950s, was born profoundly deaf. She spent her childhood attending school in Ogden where she learned to both lip read and sign. And when she graduated she lived with her mother as a daughter and as a best friend. Her grief yesterday when her family closed the casket was palpable.
When Cindy spoke, she signed. And an interpreter shared Cindy's talk with us. After, a group of Cindy's hearing impaired friends who all sat together, "sang." And when they sang, their hands look like rare and beautiful birds taking flight. I can't remember when I've seen anything that has stirred me more.
Such tender times these days are. Such tender times.
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1 comment:
That's a poem, right there. That's a flock of poems.
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