The Bird

I was sitting at the table this morning when I heard the distinctive sound of a bird who had just flown into the kitchen window. My thoughts immediately returned to the last time I heard that very sound.

Mom and I were sitting in her sunroom, enjoying a gorgeous summer day and the unintentional bird sanctuary which was Mom's yard. Suddenly out of nowhere, a little bird flew into Mom's sunroom window.

I immediately went to check on it. It had landed on the park bench which was right under the window. I watched it take its last breath. I hoped dearly that it wasn't. I desperately wanted it to just be a concussion.

Mom and I were both hopeful and sad as we knew the fate of this poor little bird had already been dealt. I lightly stroked the bird's chest as I willed it to breathe again. Nothing.

"Move it onto the grass," Mom suggested. A softer place to land. A more natural setting for this bird to lie.

I moved the bird to a soft, grassy patch below and it was an easier sight to see. Please take another breath, I quietly wished.

That little bird never took another breath.

"Did you realize you were petting the bird?" Mom asked. Yes, I did. I knew.

I knew my days with Mom were numbered and the tenderness I felt for this innocent little bird was a foreshadowing of what was to come.

With the gentle act of being there, letting that little bird know it was not alone while it took its last breath, I felt Mom watching over the scene. "I will be there for you, Mom. You will not be alone. I can accept what is coming. I will be tender with you, your memories and the moment. I promise."

Of course I didn't say a word of what I was thinking aloud but I felt Mom listening to my thoughts. I think she knew what I was thinking, just the same as I hoped she would find comfort in knowing I would be okay when she took her last breath.

That little bird was an omen of what was yet to come.

When the little bird flew into our window this morning, I wanted no such omen. I ran out to check on it. It was lying on its back. But it was breathing steadily. I watched. I waited. I made sure it wasn't just a breeze blowing the bird's feathers. No, it was breathing. Soon, I could see the bird struggling to get back on its feet. It was alive!

I went to get a pair of gloves so I could help the little bird off of its back. By the time I returned, he had flipped himself over. This was a very good sign...

Its eyes were closed. But it was breathing. It was going to be okay. I didn't want to leave the little guy alone, vulnerable to any forces of nature which would prey on it while it was down. I stayed.

I walked away for a few minutes and returned to find this strong and courageous little bird on his feet. His eyes were open and he was becoming more alert.

Still at first, but eventually reacting to the sounds around him. He started turning his head, our eyes met, he knew I was too close for comfort but he stayed. He wasn't quite ready to fly.

I sat still, I made little clicking noises I make when I think I'm speaking the language of nature. I encouraged him. I told him he was safe with me.

I could feel the moment coming. Then it arrived.

My little wounded bird flew off to join his friends. He was okay.

There are so many little triggers I feel within this "Year After Mom". The knowledge that moments are fleeting, life is precious but it is not eternal.

I needed a sign of life. A happy story.

We often speak of Mom's wish to fly like an eagle if there was such a thing as reincarnation. We have watched the sky and many family members have had out of the ordinary eagle sightings. Not me. I have not had nature speak aloud to me (though I did wonder about the rabbit who ran across the shopping mall parking lot just as I was approaching my car).

But this morning. Long after the moment ended. Just this moment in fact, I wondered ... if Mom could find a way of communicating "life" and that she is okay, would she not choose to recreate the moment we shared with that little bird whose life touched and united us in quiet thought? She might.

Life is a precious thing. You can be flying along, enjoying a perfect spring morning when "BAM!", out of nowhere, the wind is knocked right out of you. We are very fortunate when we can pick ourselves up, shake ourselves off and fly off into our future. It doesn't always happen that way. But when it does, it is reassuring to share the moment with someone who hears your thoughts.

You were not alone, Mom. You were not alone...