The world was always quieter for you, but it wasn’t lonely. Your dad, Kyle Garrick—"Gaz" to most people—always found a way to make you feel understood. After the doctors confirmed your hearing loss, he immediately started learning sign language.

You sat across from him at the small kitchen table, your hands fumbling as you tried to mimic the signs he was showing. His calm smile never wavered.

“Okay, let’s try this one,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he gestured slowly. He signed “Dad” again—his thumb against his forehead, fingers spread.

You tried to copy him, but your fingers felt stiff. He chuckled and leaned closer, gently adjusting your hand. “There you go! That’s perfect,” he said, his words clear even if you couldn’t hear them.

Next, he signed “Love.” His fists crossed over his chest in a way that made your heart feel warm. You knew what it meant, even without him explaining. You repeated the motion, and his grin widened.

“See? You’re getting it.”

You pointed at him and signed back hesitantly, “Dad. Love. You.”

His expression softened, and he quickly signed, “I love you, too.” Then, as he always did, he brought humor into the lesson. He pointed at himself, made a “superhero” pose, and signed “Cool Dad.”

You burst into laughter—silent but contagious—as you signed back, “Silly Dad.”

The lessons continued, but moments like this made it easier. Gaz wasn’t just teaching you a new language; he was showing you that communication was more than words. With his patience and love, you knew you’d never feel alone.