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July 9 th Sunday

 From a Bird's Eye View 


Even psychics have their superstitions. Maybe even more than others do. I don’t have many, but birds are a big one for me. Different birds mean different things. In the home I live in now  and have for 16 years, every time I see 3 black crows in the front lawn ,in fall I know that either winter or spring will bring another triple disaster. This isn’t just melodrama , The first year we moved here, I was diagnosed with Cancer, my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and my best friend & little sister died suddenly  ;all within the same year. 

By no means was this my first introduction with grief. I am someone who has always worn her loss like a locket around her neck.  A heavy gold heart hanging on an antique chain , polished fine from my constantly moving fingers always checking to see if it still resided near my throat.

When I was young, I would wonder why there were some people who would be unable to get past a situation. I’d hear gossip, or small patches of conversations, or whole stories of how a person has lost someone , either by death, or divorce, and never got over it. They never opened up again. How they changed irrevocably. I was anything but that way for a very long time. In fact, I thought ( thought being the important part of this) that I was able to move on much better than others.

No. I never actually went anywhere. I used to have an obsession with handbags back then. The bigger the better. I had every single thing a woman could want in them. I couldn’t’ go 500 feet without it. 

My life was in it. How likely was it that I would need all my makeup to go from my house to the grocery store less than half a mile away? Within the time it took to get there, I would have opened that bag at least 5 times .

I carried everything I could in those bags. I even carried a box with lucky things I had saved since the age of five. Yet I thought back then I was a free spirit. If someone had said to me “ leave the bag back here , and take your wallet with you”, the ground beneath me would have fallen through and I would have felt swallowed up by dirt, buried alive.

That’s how free I was.

I had never actually allowed myself to go through grief or loss. All the people I loved who died , and who had been half of my heart, I had been unable to mourn. I kept moving. I kept them in the things around me, I kept them in my throat, in the eyes that all of a sudden could only see with glasses. In the ears that had started to not hear clearly. I kept them in the house I so loved I began to stay in more and more.

And there I was. I had configured myself in a place highly structured so that moving anywhere would be unlikely .  When I least expected it –a 5 foot scorpion walked into my room and injected me with it's poisonous  loss. I hadn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t planning on moving on first. I had wanted to several times but never did and I put the suitcase back in the attic a few years ago. 

Now I understood. I was that person who was forever changed by a situation . I had picked myself up so many times in the past, no matter what had happened to me, no matter how bad it was, I had been strong enough to go on because of the spirituality and Love I had for others. This time  I was so sick by the sting , I knew I was finally just going to go back into my shell and pop my head out every once in a while.

No doubt.

In that shell a few seasons passed. I screamed, I plotted, I cried, I bargained, I denied, I plotted some more, I avenged, I wished, I didn’t care, I disassociated , I loved, I forgave and bargained again. I really forgave, and accepted. When I poked my head out everything looked completely different. The poison was gone. I realized for the first time, ever, I had done what I could never do. I had felt my loss and grief head on, no running, no moving on and found out I could live through that even better than I had done.

I often go out now with just a wallet and I stay away from big bags.

This morning I looked out of my kitchen window, I saw three small dark birds eating on the grass. I instantly thought “ oh no, this means what I am thinking is definitely going to happen soon”. I sat for a few minutes and thought that. I turned my head away for a minute. When I looked back, one had gone. Two were left. Three by the way , is symbolic to me. One was just sitting in the grass, and one was walking around still eating . The one walking flew off without a nod to its companion, the one sitting got up and flew after it. 

Without thinking consciously of what I was supposed to think, 

I thought “ They’ll be fine, they will all meet up in just a bit to go fly wherever they live”.

No superstition, no sadness, no omen. That’s how I feel today.

Nothing real like love is ever gone. Nothing un -real like fear or distance from those we love can ever be made permanent . We are but moments away from reuniting. Love Adena