How I learned to listen to my sister

As the maid of honour for her older sister's wedding, Vanessa Greco had one main duty: Help choose a song for the first dance. She thought it would be easy. But while diving into the task, Vanessa arrived at some uncomfortable realizations about her relationship with a person she's known and loved her entire life. 

Her essay "Marvelling in Silence" is a reflection on the special bond Vanessa shares with her sister Lisa, and how she learned to strengthen it by simply stopping to listen. 

Marvelling in Silence
By Vanessa Greco

It's a bleary-eyed Sunday morning.

My mother approaches me with a Manila folder. Inside of it are the lyrics to more love songs than in Michael Bolton's entire catalogue. She waves the envelope.

"Have you given it any thought?"

"Uh, yes. Absolutely," I say, shifting my weight on the couch.

This is not necessarily a lie. My older sister's wedding really is on my mind. I am the maid of honour after all, which by all accounts, is a huge responsibility.

Except in my case, I only have one main responsibility.

Forget cake tastings and envelope stuffing. Scratch the party favours and the linen colours. There's only one thing Lisa really wants from me, and I'm not sure I can give it to her: She wants me to help choose the song for her first dance.

Lisa is deaf and she's never been big on music. During the boy band craze of the early 90s, we'd lie out on her bed and read the lyrics to Backstreet Boys songs as they played on our boom box. Her cochlear implant allows her to pick up on the music, but aside from those giddy preteen moments, it's not a huge interest.

Lisa's fiancé Jon is also deaf. His favourite type of song is the kind that gets into your bones. Usually loud electronic dance tunes. The kind of music with bass so heavy, you can feel the song vibrate through you with just one hand on the speaker.

There is nothing stopping them from blaring techno during their first dance — but for whatever reason, they've decided to go a more traditional route.

And so, here I am. The little sister tasked with finding the perfect musical tribute to Lisa and Jon's love. In my mind, I am a lone highway worker about to erect a sonic billboard explaining who this couple is and how they feel about each other.

In reality, I am in over my head. And I'm about to come to some pretty uncomfortable realizations about a person I've known and loved my entire life.

It begins when I present Lisa with some early suggestions.

"What about Louis Armstrong?" I ask her.

"What about him?"

This might sound corny. But my idea of love sounds a lot like Louis Armstrong's cover of "La Vie En Rose." How could it not? The song feels timeless yet new. There's that romantic melody, those classic trumpets, and Satchmo's wistful voice singing about how magical it is to find that one special person. Put simply, it is perfect.

I play Lisa the song on YouTube. The tune floats out of the computer … the trumpets soar … and Lisa jams her fingers in her ears.

It turns out the sound of horns hurts her. I am dumbfounded. How I could I not have known that something I find beautiful brings my older sister pain? The way I hear love is not the same way she hears it. Why didn't I know that sooner?

I look at the rest of my song list. Sam Cooke. Otis Redding. The Isley Brothers. Horns everywhere. I put the sheet away, and call it an early night.

I've never questioned our relationship before. She's my sister, of course we're close. But deep down, I start to wonder what else I've missed.

Lisa is one of the few people I've known since my first day on Earth. I know the exact shade of pink her face turns when she laughs, which comic she reads first in the funny pages, and which food she craves when she's having a no good, very bad day. Not to mention every single one of her ticklish spots.

There is no limit to how much I love Lisa. But still, I wonder whether I could have done a better job trying to understand our differences.

This is hard to say out loud, but I begin to realize how naive I was about how Lisa's deafness affected her world … and how that shaped our bond. I think of all the times that I, as a young teenager, refused to repeat a story at the dinner table. Or the days I complained that I was too tired to explain something on paper.

I wasn't being insensitive on purpose. Sometimes the meanest slights are born out a youthful unawareness of how our actions affect others. We can all do a better job of listening to the people we love. I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize it.

The next time I saw Lisa, we sat down and read through piles of song lyrics together. It reminded me of being a little kid, lounging on her bed — two very different sisters trying to experience the same music together.

In the end, Lisa and Jon chose their own wedding song. Together they sorted through the lyrics of love songs, both old and new, and settled on a classic: "I Will" by the Beatles. It's straightforward and sweet. Lisa and Jon's brand of perfect.

I've learned that to Lisa and Jon, love is a simple, quiet harmony. It sounds like McCartney on an acoustic guitar, sugary lyrics and, yes, a few cheeky maracas. To them, the song is a shared memory of safety and innocence. A musical souvenir from both of their childhood homes.

I still remember the moment "I Will" played at their wedding. My big sister and new brother-in-law shyly taking the dance floor. Me marvelling in silence. As the they sway together, I stand perfectly still —  loving my sister by really stopping to listen.

To hear Vanessa reading her essay on Tapestry, click Listen.