Birds......

After my brother died I was lost. I didn't know how to process what had happened. I was nine years older than G. Soon after he was born arthritis started wearing down our always-on-the-go mom. This meant that I did lots of the everyday things for him that a baby and toddler needed. My memories of this time are good. It was like having my own real live baby -- for periods of time. During G.'s early years my mom's disease allowed her to be there for him much of the time. It wasn't until he was a preteen that she was hit hard. By that time my middle brother was a teen and making a life of his own. I was away in college. So, G. was the one of us siblings who suffered most intimately with our mom. Along with my dad. My dad was all my mom needed.

Anywho....I was very close to G. and he was very close to my mom. Thinking back I don't know if he was ever truly happy. My mom's suffering did such a number on him. I am still angry about that. He was such a kind and gentle soul. He was good. Maybe too good for this world. (WhatEVER that means!) But....the fact is I married, moved away, became overwhelmed with my life and therefore wasn't there for G. I will always feel bad about that. I guess I thought he always knew I'd be there for him. I hope he knew that. But, in the end, he didn't let me help him.

One comfort I cling to is the fact that G. made a life for himself. He surrounded himself with things he loved and most importantly, with people he loved and who loved him back. I found that out when my other brother, son #2, and I traveled to Atlanta for a celebration of G.'s life after he was gone. I met so many who loved him. It saved me. They told me all these stories he'd shared with them about me raising him (in his words). I didn't know he'd remembered all that.

So. After we came back from Atlanta I was lost. J. was working in Wisconsin. Son #3 was the only other one home. I was homeschooling him so I had to keep going with that. If it hadn't been for that I think I would have taken to my bed (I like that phrase) and....stayed. But the fact that I couldn't turned out to be a blessing. Little things would happen, wonderful little moments full of comfort would just pop up when I least expected.

Here's an example. J. had been working in Kansas a couple of months before G.'s death. Son #3 and I were with him. Living in the 5th wheel. In the snow. Living in a metal mailbox in the snow in Edna, Kansas. One weekend we took a quick trip to Branson. While shopping I noticed an oil lamp with a sunflower on it. I bought it. The potter who'd made it was there and as she handed it me she smiled and told me that she used magic when she made that lamp. She leaned close and whispered that when I needed it, it would be there. I laughed, thinking it was a sale's gimmic (which it probably was), and didn't think anymore about it. I bought the smokeless oil she'd recommended but never lit it. When J. started the job in Wisconsin son #3 and I moved back to the house and I put the lamp on the sofa table. Still didn't light it. One day after G.'s death I walked by that lamp and realized what it was intended for. I knew why I'd bought it. I had bought that lamp to honor G.'s memory. So when I feel like remembering him. When I need to feel him close, I light that little lamp and it comforts me.

Then there were the birds. After G. died I couldn't get away from birds. My first notice of them was when they started flying into my bedroom window -- my closed bedroom window. They didn't injure themsleves, but they would startle the heck out of me. I got used to that and didn't think much about it. Then when I would go outside birds would buzz my head. I'm not kidding. Others saw it happen. That finally got me thinking that something was going on. Say what you will, but I believe all this bird stuff was a way for G. to let me know he was still around. I mean, for awhile I couldn't even go to Wal*Mart without birds flying around inside. It usually happened at the cash register and the odd thing was that no one else seemed to notice. One time a bird actually flew overhead out the door with me. I swear.

Then there was that time at the beach. J. was stunned speechless. (And that's an accomplishment, believe me!) When I told A. she painted a water color of what happend, had it framed and gave it to me for my birthday. I'll save that story for another day.

I don't know what got me thinking about this. Well, maybe I do. It was probably when I walked by the cat this afternoon, saw that her ears were spinning like windmills, and realized it was because she was freaking out listening to all the birds chirpping away through the open window. I think today would be a good day to light my special oil lamp.