My wife's death and, later, a heartening incident

[Posts: 2677Joined: 26 Nov 2002, 13:53]

After just short of three weeks my wife, Anthea, died in hospital. It wasn't too much of a surprise, and the doctors let Simon, my step-son and myself down gently, even so. She was in a sort of coma during that time, following a hip operation, after falling over in a supermarket car-park. But I knew with absolute certainty that she could hear every word we were saying.

What I found the hardest to take was her fear and, at the same time, the thought of her stoicism; she kept so much of it to herself. I believe she knew at least a few weeks before, that due to a problem she had earlier in her life, her organs were finally packing in, and she'd been told by the doctors that she would be very unlikely to survive a significant operation.

Two days later, I was sitting in our flat, two floors up, at my computer, when I heard a rustling sound behind me. I turned round, and to my amazement, I saw that it was a blue tit. It had evidently flown, or rather hopped through Simon's bedroom window at the back of the flat - only open around 4 inches, flown into the passage and into the sitting room behind me, very near where Anthea used to sit, doing her crosswords and watching TV (without my noticing it; the door is about 5 to 6 feet to my left, a little in front of me).

It must have been a young bird, as it didn't seem scared - at least until I started flapping about the possibility it might hurt itself trying to get out. In fact, it did fly into the window once.

I rushed over to the windows, opened the smaller right-hand one and started vainly trying to open the big one in the middle. But I could't strain too hard because of a heart condition I have. So, I bellowed out to Si to come in quickly and help me open the windows.

He ambled in and told me not to get hysterical, pondered for a mo, then did the sensible thing: he pulled the blinds down over the still-closed windows.

The bird had moved around a bit, at one time perching on one of Anthea's potted plants on a shelf to my right (she'd made the place into a miniature botanical gardens, and we've already got one a little further down the road), about the same distance away as the wall adjoining the door on my left. Finally, it seemed to be perched on the lower part of the frieze below the ceiling. It took a long look at Si, who was, by this time, about where his mother used to sit, and then flew straight out of the side window I'd opened.

I said to Si, it seemed to be saying to him, "Thank goodness someone's got a head on their shoulders," but on reflection, I believe it was an emissary, a harbinger, from Anthea, courtesy of God, whose ear she must have bent, and was inspired by her to say by his long stare, "I'll always be with you, 'my big baby boy' (which she used to sometimes call him); never far away".

Anyway, It's difficult to convey what a difference it has made to how I feel now about her passing away. When I see something of hers about the flat, from a momentary sense of loss and sorrow, I very quickly remind myself that she's taken the maverick's "road back to the stable", gone straight to heaven, and is now happier than either of us could ever imagine.

Earlier, Si and I had foolishly commented on the croaking of some crows or ravens we could see from her hospital window, and she was a believer in such birds, and also owls, acting sometimes as harbingers of an imminent death. So, it was nice to see that if she didn't know before, she'd been apprised by the Almighty that some birds can be harbingers of joy.

Well, later that afternoon, I was pondering not only how strange it was for a bird to fly into your home like that, but how a neat little bird, such as a blue tit or a sparrow, seemed to make all the difference. I don't think it would have seemed quite the same if it had been a larger bird, such as a starling or a blackbird or a thrush.

But why a blue tit, which I wouldn't think are that common around here, quite near the centre of Edinburgh, (though we don't see many sparrows these days)? It had come from the green at the back, a kind of green between three tenements forming three sides of a rectangle. Then I remembered that the day before, I'd mentioned to Si that his mother was 'nuts' about the colour, blue. That really tickled me to bits.

Then, when I was devising a Thank You card with a photo of the Duchess in it, I noticed that, unwittingly, I'd chosen the only blue card - it was a folding card with a beautiful azure front face and a cross on it; and the photo I had chosen was her in a blue dress with a blue patterned scarf. True, I'd have had difficulty finding a photo of her in other colours, mind you!

[Posts: 752Joined: 27 Jul 2010, 01:42]

That's a lovely tale, Grimes. Glad that the wee bird has given you some comfort in your loss. Best wishes for the future to you and Simon.

[Posts: 6672Joined: 25 Feb 2001, 19:39Location: Surrey]

Grimes,

My condolences to you and Simon.

Blue, is also my favourite colour as well.

Regards - Robin

[Posts: 462Joined: 30 Oct 2011, 10:43Location: North Yorkshire]

That's a lovely story, Grimes, made me weep. My thoughts are with you all

Jo

[Posts: 2677Joined: 26 Nov 2002, 13:53]

That's a lovely tale, Grimes. Glad that the wee bird has given you some comfort in your loss. Best wishes for the future to you and Simon.

Thank you, Mr Pilsen. I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was a beautiful incident, wasn't it?

[Posts: 2677Joined: 26 Nov 2002, 13:53]

Grimes,

My condolences to you and Simon.

Blue, is also my favourite colour as well.

Regards - Robin

Thank you, Robin. It's kind of you.

Here is what someone on a Christian forum wrote about the colour, blue: "In Catholicism blue is the colour of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and in Orthodoxy it is a representative of humanity (as opposed to red, gold or white for divinity). In ancient art it is always used very sparingly, because it used to be made from lapis lazuli, which was very expensive."

[Posts: 2677Joined: 26 Nov 2002, 13:53]

That's a lovely story, Grimes, made me weep. My thoughts are with you all

Jo

Thank you, reetlass. I tend to choke up when I think of what I interpret the wee birdie was saying to Simon, that term of endearment, "my big baby boy", before he flew off.

They always worshipped each other in an understated kind of way. Very middle England. When Sim was queuing to pay, for among other things, a racing paper for me in the newsagents in the forecourt of the hospital, he said he felt worse than if he was buying a pornograpic magazine! "Ah, Mr Middle England!" I replied - and saw a few Scottish smiles.

[Posts: 12313Joined: 22 Dec 2007, 19:24]

The incident with a blue tit seems like just a minor coincidence to me Grimes, but I suppose that's the beauty of having a faith. Sadly, being an athiest prevents me from such feelings. However, I'm genuinely glad it has given both yourself and Simon some solace.

[Posts: 3574Joined: 08 Jul 2009, 22:10Location: Wexford]

I'm very sorry for your loss Grimes.

It's amazing that something so small can make such a difference.

[Posts: 3838Joined: 26 Dec 2000, 13:50Location: The Dean]

I'm really very sorry for your loss Grimes

What a lovely heart warming story

Best wishes to you and Simon

[Posts: 4755Joined: 07 Oct 2002, 11:50Location: Scotland]

Condolences Grimes.

[Posts: 4158Joined: 20 Jan 2006, 11:28Location: The Ainsty of York]

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour

A sweet tale Grimes, replete with the appealing reflective whimsy that's been a hallmark of your posts

Condolences to you and yours

[Posts: 5238Joined: 31 Aug 2007, 23:42Location: derby]

Grimes; I so understand where you're coming from. When my marriage broke up 10 or so years ago, I took to sleeping in the back bedroom of our house next to the window. Overlooking the window was the branch of a tree and, for a few nights on that branch [never before and never since] sat a tawny owl. I was convinced that it was my long departed mother who was somehow looking after me. Whether it was true or not, it gave me comfort at the time and, I guess, still does. Sorry to hear about your loss.