The Circle of Life

The other day, I was watering the flowers in the backyard. The girls were on the swings playing and suddenly they started yelling at me.
A baby robin was on the ground by the swing set.
I said, “Girls, you didn’t touch it, did you?” Something was jumping in my head about not touching baby birds that maybe were so little that they should still be in the nest. Or is that a myth? Just in case, though…
“Girls, tell Mom, did you touch the bird?”
“No, Mom!”
They had nothing but the utmost conviction in their faces.
Then Emersyn pipes up, “We only petted it!”
I told the girls to sit tight while I ran into the garage and found some clean gardening gloves so I could pick up the bird.
The girls were really worried.
“Where is his mommy?”
“I don’t know what happened, maybe he got lost? I don’t know where his mom and dad are.”
Sammie offers, “I think maybe his mom and dad went to school to get his brothers and sisters, they’ll be right back.” Um, OK. That’s one idea, I guess.
I didn’t really know what to do, the bird stuck his little neck up like I was swooping in to feed him something. I picked him up, not really knowing what to do with him, so I walked until I heard a bunch of birds chirping in a row of bushes nearby, thinking whatever they are, they’ll adopt the little dude as one of their own.
Later, he was gone and I can only hope he found a new home.

If anyone reads here regularly, you might already know where this is going.

Uncle Don passed away.

I wish I could explain how robust he had been before he got sick. The closest I can come would be, you know, Sallah from Indiana Jones, the Egyptian digger guy? That’s the big, robust kind of build he had and even looked a little like that. Dark hair, strong features - he was a booming and imposing figure with a hearty laugh before his health hit the skids.

He just lost his mother a couple years back, a woman in her mid-90s. I never did meet her but I understand she was a sassy lady and they had an incredible bond, he took care of her for a long time.

I talked to my MIL several times as she’s been there the past few weeks helping out. And at one point, she said it did seem like Uncle Don had already “moved on” and they were scrambling to catch up. He just seemed to be patiently waiting for death to come to him.

There’s a lot more to the story, but the bright point is that hubby and FIL got there in time to say goodbye. Hubby had a St. Michael medal on a necklace that he’s worn since Desert Storm. (St. Michael is the patron saint of paratroopers) At that time, during the war, he would not have claimed he was particularly religious, but he put a lot of stock in the protection that necklace gave him. I don’t know why. It held a power for him that was impossible to explain.

When he said his goodbyes to Uncle Don, he took the necklace off and encircled it around Uncle Don’s wrist and thru his fingers. It was the first response Uncle Don gave in days, he grasped it tightly into hand - he knew it was there. He never let it go.
In the middle of the night when he finally passed away, it was still wrapped around his hand and hubby’s aunt assured him that the funeral home would get it back to him. He said, no, he needed to let go of that necklace and the times during the war he had held on to, sometimes too much. It was serving a new purpose, seeing Uncle Don safely on his journey. I think letting go of that necklace, I hardly know how to explain how big a deal this St. Michael necklace is in his life, but when he stands there graveside at the funeral and sees it for the last time, as they say their goodbyes, maybe it will bring some painful moments in his own life, well, into a place of closure.

The baby robin continued on its journey. I can only hope the baby found his mother again. Uncle Don, now, is with his beloved mother again. And no more pain, no more suffering, no more cancer.

Godspeed, Uncle Don. And say hello to St. Michael for us.