I remember the day before my father passed. I had just arrived home with the kids from a
trip to Disneyland. It was already
evening, and I was in the living room unwrapping
the little porcelain miniature Disney characters I had purchased, setting them
up on the coffee table. My father seemed
impressed by them, and I was surprised by his curiosity. My father was sick, but he looked well to me,
sitting on the couch, I could tell he was a bit relieved to see that I got home
from Los Angeles alright. My father
could never rest until he knew I got home safe at night, when I was younger
just starting to drive, and even now after I moved back home again after my
divorce, and even after his diagnosis, I still caught him a few times standing
outside on the drive way waiting for me to arrive at night. And according to my mother, at night, he
would not fall asleep until he heard me at the front door.
But now I was home, and safe, and the kids were restless and
needed sleep, and there I was sitting in the living room, with my dad admiring
my Disney treasures, not knowing it would be the last evening on Earth we would
be sharing together. Suddenly, out of no
where, he spoke of a little visitor he had earlier that day. It was a little bird. I sat
back on the couch, a little surprised by his unexpected candor. Apparently he
had been sitting in the backyard earlier that day, and a little bird came to him
while he sat by the lemon tree. It stayed there with him for quite awhile, keeping him company. He apparently was very impressed by it’s little visit, and the way it sang to him. I did not know my father was such a nature
lover, and his words almost made me laugh to myself in surprise. His face lit up magically as he spoke of this little bird, and he chuckled, and his eyes were bright and smiling. It was a bit out of the ordinary to see my dad
this way. First he was admiring nick-nack souvenirs he would normally not bother to look at, and now he was communing with birds? Something was different. I saw a gentle, childlike side of my dad
that night, a side that I will never forget. He seemed somehow at peace with himself.
To this day, when I hear the sounds of birds singing, I think
of my dad. When I see a bird at my
window, I feel he is near. When I hear a bird singing, I remember that special night, and the light in his fading green eyes. I cannot
believe it has already been 11 years, tomorrow since he has been gone.
Little bird
Sitting on the fence
Sitting in the lemon tree
I hear your song
Luring me into your melody
Oh little bird who comes visits me
I’ve waited for your company
Where have you been?
What have you seen?
I long for you to take me with you
Somewhere far
Under your wing
We shall sing
Together and forever
To the stars
To the sun
That shines so brightly in your heaven
