Faith

is the bird

that feels the light

And sings

when the dawn

is still dark.

~ Rabindranath Tagore

Chapter Twenty-Four - "Fly Away Home"

April 7, 2001

Today is a windy half winter/half spring Saturday. Inside I feel in rhythm with the weather outside. A storm is raging inside and yet I know for my sister the Spring will soon arrive. The layers of pain, of dead limbs and heartache will soon be carried away on the wind and in their place fresh, new beautiful life will blossom. It is one week away from the celebration of Christ's resurrection, a fitting time for my heart.

Working fast to clean my house before our family hospice meeting, I pop in the CD that my Uncle Dee has made for Angel. The music fills the room and swells with its elegance. A feeling of something I can't identify comes over me. I think it is probably like the weather. Half of the hope of Spring for my sister in my heart and half of the ache of the winter of her life coming to an end. This mixture actually physically hurts.

My hands are trembling and I stop cleaning and stand at my kitchen window. Our home is split-level, the kitchen upstairs, with the treetops and sky my kitchen view. The horizon is gray, except for a small break in the clouds - an oval of glittering sunshine on a soft blue backdrop. Within the tree directly in front of me, I spot two sparrows flitting about in the branches. The wind is forcing them to burrow deeper for protection. The wind is making the thin winter branches sway beneath its strength.

Watching the two identical birds, I see Angel and myself in them and my heart floods with pain. The things that trigger the pain are sporadic and come often as a surprise. The music on my uncle's incredibly beautiful CD is "Dust in the Wind". The melody filling my home, and the words coming quickly to mind, I begin to sob. My entire body is wracked with pain. "Only for a moment, and the moment's gone" echo through my mind and I know why Dee has recorded this song for her. Life is only for a moment, and Angel's moment is all but gone.

The birds flutter playfully, but as I watch, one of them flits through the branches, down into the lower and safer warmth of the tree, while the other bounces from branch to branch, upward, higher and higher until she is perched on a swaying branch at the very top of the tree. She looks fragile, but unafraid.

"Don't go." I will her in my mind to stay. I want her to retreat into the safer branches down low in the tree.

Tears splash down my face, dribble down my neck and onto my T-shirt. The wind picks up stronger as the music crescendos with power. The little bird in the top of the tree lifts off and flies in a circle above the top of the tree. I watch her and I watch the other bird who seems unaware of its loss. Into the small opening of light and of clear blue the tiny sparrow flies, her wings seeming not to move at all, spread wide and soaring free. She glides effortlessly while the other sparrow rests in the crook of the tree's protection.

I watch her go until I can no longer see her. She has fluttered away into the sparkle and warmth of the sunlight, the heavens enveloping her and the wind carrying her away. Safe journey, little one. 
 

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