Heart Secret: April 2024

Monday, April 22, 2024

Mom -1yr ago

My mom was a keen observer. She watched the moon and the tides. She knew a full moon and a low tide would likely gift her exquisite treasures. Mom was an enthusiastic witness to the stars, and the celestial beauty of interstellar extraordinary events. She was mindful of the weather patterns, the clouds, and the sun. She’d pick a spot to sit in her house for the sole purpose of soaking in the healing sunshine she knew was a vital part of her well being. Mom would tell you that the airplanes flying to the airport over her home had changed direction due to the way the winds were blowing. Mom followed the birds, fox, and deer as they traversed through her yard. She knew exactly what time the fox was passing through each day hunting for prey, and observed the deer and their external changes as each season came and went.

Looking back there’s comfort in knowing that my mom was her happiest, and most at peace as she studied the beautiful life all around her any chance she could. And there is also comfort in knowing she would leave this earth in her way, with transparent signs and signals, just as clear as the way she lived. Fittingly, Earth Day 2023 was the day I lost my mom.

That day felt especially dark from the moment I woke. Driving rains and whipping gusts of wind hid the sun and kept its brightness completely concealed for most of that day. The atmosphere was spinning out of control, an unusually strong storm even for the end of rainy April. There was a momentous change happening.

I arrived late afternoon to find my brothers by her side. There was movement in her eyes and face when she heard my voice. That brought me some solace knowing she knew I was there and if in any way possible I could ease her transition from us, and this earth. Her once robust body was now at rest. Her bed was situated in a way so that she could catch a glimpse of the land she had joyfully observed for so long. The bed by the windows was also set purposefully to feel the comforting sun when its warm rays beamed into the house.

As we sat by her bedside we could see through those same windows the rain was ending, and even the clouds were giving way to the sun. The turbulent atmosphere had calmed. Mom’s breathing though became more labored. We talked to her, held her hands, and remained close. A herd of deer had meandered in the yard. They were there too.

Mom took what would be her last breath. She was now gone from this physical life. As we cried and said our goodbyes and talked about what was to come next a bright red cardinal was perched right there within a few feet so close on the deck railing. It seemed to appear out of nowhere. He watched us as we watched him in complete wonder. An undeniable signal from my mom.

Mom, you are greatly missed. I see beauty in the world around us all on account of you. Oh, and when a red cardinal appears I will always be reminded of you.