I often sit at my living room table in the early morning hours, listening to serene music as I wait to say hello to the sun. While holding a warm beverage between my palms, I enjoy pondering a variety of topics while knowing the rest of the country is fast asleep but will soon be waking up.
But today is different. Because unlike other mornings, there is only one topic on my mind.
Today, June 7th, 2016, is the anniversary of Joanna Nichols’ passing. Fifteen years ago, today, the woman who gave me life lost her own.
When my family asks me, “Do you still remember your mother?” the answer is always, “Absolutely.” I remember her kindness, her gentleness, her radiance, her purity, her perseverance, and most of all, her love. I have never found another love as powerful and present as hers. It was a love that extended far beyond myself. It radiated toward family members and friends and even to strangers in need of help. When it was discovered that I was profoundly deaf, not only did she persevere in finding a solution for me, she also strived to share that solution with other families that needed it in Taiwan.
During her short time on this earth, she taught me so many valuable lessons. I would like to share two of them:
1) Always apologize when you are wrong, but never apologize for being who you are:
I confess, I have actually wrapped two important lessons in one, but this statement has remained a prized reminder throughout my young life – one that I am still learning to master. In some ways, it is even more important to learn as a deaf person. This lesson dispels the myth that being humble and confident are opposites. In fact, my sister and I were raised on the belief that it is important to have both a healthy amount of confidence and self-esteem while always remaining humble. In many cases, humility can be a sign of great and genuine self-esteem.
This valuable lesson pertains to deafness in several ways. An extremely strong memory that stands out from my childhood is my parents constantly reminding me to advocate for myself. This is one of the most useful tools I have ever learned and is strongly related to self-esteem. Continuously, patiently, and independently explaining one’s deafness and how to overcome it in spoken and hearing communication requires genuine confidence. One builds genuine confidence from a lifetime of practicing self-advocacy and clarifying exactly what the deaf individual needs from others for successful communication to happen. Another way advocating for one’s deafness is strongly tied to confidence is through the emphasis that deafness is never something to be ashamed of. In other words, one should never apologize for being deaf or hard of hearing. As my parents have always explained; “I have poor vision, therefore I need glasses to help me see. You need a cochlear implant to help you hear. What is the big deal?” Apologizing for one’s deafness is akin to apologizing for wearing glasses or needing a wheelchair to get around: ridiculous.
In many ways, deafness has also humbled me. When I look around, I see numerous family members, friends, and professionals including audiologists, doctors, surgeons, scientists, researchers, and teachers all working extremely hard to give me successful hearing and speech. It is humbling to be in a room with ten specialists, all of whom have spent years (sometimes a lifetime) acquiring knowledge and perfecting their art to provide me with the opportunity to hear. It is humbling to so often find myself surrounded by people far more knowledgeable and accomplished than I, all utilizing valuable time and resources to help me hear. It humbles me to realize how much Joanna accomplished in her life before it was cut short and what an extraordinary person she was. A simple walk through the hallways of the Children’s Hearing Foundation (CHF) always offers me a healthy dose of humility and appreciation. It has also been humbling to grow as an adult and realize the world does not owe anyone anything, even if they are differently disabled. As a hearing, speaking, independent, and deaf adult, I am fully responsible for my own self-advocacy and success, just as my hearing peers are. To me, Joanna was the role model of confidence and humility.
2) Love for all is key:
The concept of dying is terrifying for most people. No one wants it, and no one has escaped it. However, one of the most valuable lessons I learned fifteen years ago is that death has a way of not only filtering out but completely destroying all the superficial ideas once valued. When death is on the horizon, it shines a ray of light on what is truly valuable in life. My mother was quick to see these rays (even prior to her illness) and shared some of them with us in her last letter. In this letter, she emphasized what I see as her most defining quality, love:
“Love for all is the key. You need not show on the outside that you love people; feeling it on the inside is enough. It will show itself in your actions, naturally.”
It is through this love that CHF was created. As previously mentioned, it was not enough for Joanna that her daughter was hearing and speaking. She yearned to share that success and happiness with other families in need. This act was one of her many demonstrations that “love for all is the key” and “it will show itself in your actions”. She loved and cared for every single child that entered CHF’s doors, and in doing so, she provided countless opportunities for deaf and hard of hearing children and their families.
Twenty years ago, Joanna fought to establish CHF. Fifteen years ago, she fought for her life. Joanna may have left this world too soon, but she left a lasting legacy that impacted the lives of thousands of deaf children and their families. It is my hope that this lasting legacy and influx of opportunities will have a ripple effect, encouraging those affected to pay it forward by creating new opportunities for others in their communities and beyond.
So, as I greet this peaceful dawn with a steaming cup between my hands, I hear Robbie Williams singing on my stereo: “When I’m feeling weak, and my pain walks down a one way street, I look above, and I know I’ll always be blessed with love.” I close my eyes and smile.
