Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Hi everyone. Robins are my most favorite bird ever. I mean, I love birds of prey, owls especially as they're supposedly my "animal spirit guide". But for the everyday bird, I love robins. They symbolize hope and the promise of renewal to me.
My father died in hospice six years ago on a Saturday morning in April. He was my kindred spirit. My mom is my best friend, and my dad was my kindred spirit. As you can imagine, it was an emotionally devastating morning. We'd gotten "the call" the night before that he was failing, to come quick. I did...drove like a bat out of hell through an ice/freezing rain storm to get there.
It was an endless, tear-filled, heartbreaking, family-filled, love-filled, and profound event that changed our lives forever with his leaving us. Right afterward, I went into another room for a minute alone and just stood there, staring out the huge window at the gray morning. On the slope in front of me was a lone magnolia tree, already blossoming before the ice storm had hit. All around, the grass was covered with the ice, except for an almost perfect circle underneath the tree. And in that circle of green grass, protected by the magnolia tree, was a flock of robins.
I felt a quiet smile and a peacefulness because I knew two things for certain. One was that I will see my father again, and the other was that there is always the promise of hope and renewal, no matter what. Things will always get better, spring will always come, no matter how unexpected the storm. Love you Dad.