Today around 1:30PM, I went for my usual Wednesday run. I headed out on my normal route, east from my house, and could tell I had no power in my legs, probably from not getting much sleep lately, probably from my metabolism racing, maybe because I have been drinking more coffee than I had before, but at any rate, I decided I needed to run a different course, and that whatever mileage it turned out to be would be fine.
The weather was pleasant enough--humid, but not too warm, and cloudy. I was about 1/3 mile from home when I noticed that little guy struggling in the grass. I figured he was at best injured and I might be able to help him get back on his feet; at worst he was about to die. I picked him up gently and held him in my hands and knew it wasn't good--he couldn't hold his head up and was gasping for air. So I just held onto him waiting for the inevitable, and it didn't take but maybe another 2 minutes before I saw his last big gasp of air and he died.
A few weeks ago, a chickadee nearly landed on me in my front yard, and then a few days later, another bird almost landed on me while I was running in Waterfall Glen. Today when this cedar waxwing showed up to me, I understood what it all means. Some of you might not believe in signs or supernatural phenomena--all I know is that what I see is open to interpretation and that my life is as I imagine it to be--how could it be anything else?
The cedar waxwing was the third message from my Dad. Before today, I had thought the message was that I should stand still more often and just take in life that way. But today I finally understood the message--don't forget about me! One might think that I haven't grieved "properly," since I was thrust into the role of Executor, and that didn't end until February of this year. Soon after, I acknowledged the stress I was feeling training for UMC. Was that a coincidence? Probably not. At any rate, I probably should have celebrated my Dad somehow at that point, but I did not. I did take him to UMC with me, though, and I plan on taking him to all my other races as long as his ashes last, which should be a good, long time!
Let's just say I was bawling my eyes out as soon as I saw the bird today. When I was a little girl, I regularly rescued baby or adult injured birds with quite a high success rate of return to the wild (at least that's how I remember it). I would cry if they died, I would be sad if they flew away, but I understood it to be part of the cycle of life and death.
So I feel like I need to tell Dad a few things. First off, I have never forgotten about you! I think about you daily, especially since people who knew us both usually say how much I look like you and inherited lots of your intelligence, ability to focus, and stubbornness in pursuit of a reasonable or unreasonable goal. I am you, through and through, and I think that is why Mom never did spend much time talking to me--all she would see was you--and when you two weren't exactly being lovebirds, she didn't need to be reminded of you through me. Although Mom did realize I picked up a lot of my "artistic" side from her--sewing, cooking, gardening and a huge appreciation for the natural world.
I've taken you to a bunch of races, haven't you enjoyed them? I have had only 2 bad races since you passed--IMLP in 2008 when it poured rain on me all day and I let myself succumb to being miserable and giving up in my effort, and Triple T 2009 when I got sick and then was stung by some sort of insect that caused a bad allergic reaction, coupled with a personal issue I won't go into. All my other races since 2007 have gone pretty well! Even considering I had to drop from North Face 50 miler last fall because of stupid gear mistakes I made, I still was well trained and was glad I did it. Everything since then has been spectacular! I hope you have noticed the joy that all this stuff gives me and the nice places I have left part of you.
And I am changing jobs at my company--at least this time I didn't wait 10 years, huh? The new position will be more befitting of my (and your) penchant for pure technology. I am proud to be a geek! I got that from you, you know.
And the last thing you should know is that you have a great-grandchild on the way. As far as I know, it will be your first (you may have another one, but as you might have predicted, 3 of your kids won't speak to me anymore). Your granddaughter, Michelle, is going to have a baby in November! I am excited about this because maybe I will finally learn how to take care of a little baby! You always told me how proud you were of Michelle and how you saw much of yourself in her. I think a new baby coming into the world around the time of your death anniversary will be a good thing for all of us--we will remember you and celebrate with a little one!
I am going to give the cedar waxwing a proper burial someplace in my yard together with some of your ashes, in a place where I can plant something so you can both give it life! Maybe I didn't grieve for you the same way other people might have, but I did, I still do, but I know you understand that it is also my way to live my life with complete exuberance despite the bad things that happen from time to time. You should know that I have developed an unusual obsession with objects with skulls on them. I blame it on you!
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