Wordless

His name was Paul, but I can't recall how I came to know his name. Maybe he wrote it on my order pad. Years after we met I learned his last name when I saw his picture in the paper. "Paul Whitesides", it said above his obituary. Sadness swept over me as I remembered many wordless conversations between Paul and myself. The only time actual words were involved was when one of us wrote something down on paper for the other one to read or when he pointed to whatever menu item he wanted.



Looking back on my conversations with Paul, I have to wonder just how ridiculous my awkward hand gestures must have seemed to him. I couldn't sign. Maybe he got the same feeling I get when I'm talking to someone who is just learning to speak English. He probably felt like I was butchering his native tongue.



Quite often I would flail my arms and pretend to be very irritated with him, which always produced a big grin. No telling what the other customers thought when I behaved that way.



Meeting Paul taught me that you don't need to verbalize to let people know that you like them and that you're genuinely happy to see them. Words are just words, sometimes empty and meaningless. Only our actions truly speak to other human beings, a language of their own.