This is an endearing tale of a bird that had a soul. For us it is about love and how life demands both acceptance and surrender.
A Brief Resurrection, last part
We no sooner got there than, to our astonishment, she lifted her head. “My God, She’s alive!” I called out, quickly scooping her up. We frantically called information to find a vet and discovered an animal hospital that was open all night. It was an hour away. The vet told us that she would most likely die within hours. I looked down into her face and thought, oddly, of a lion.
In a last ditch effort, he gave her an injection of steroids to reduce the swelling in her head. At our insistence, he returned her to us, warning us that birds can’t be expected to survive head traumas. Jim and I sensed that if anything was keeping her alive it was our connection with her. Like a string, our mutual affection seemed to be tugging her in, as if she were a kite, being pulled against winds imminent death.
Birds are ingenious at “keeping things light”. Back home, in my bedroom, she had an indescribably serene “smile” on her face, as she lay, breathing shallowly, upon my chest. “Clydo, we love you! What a bird! Stay with us! You can do it!” we begged.
Tonight, lamentably, there were to be no ardent protests; only acquiescent grunts when we were naming Clyde’s closest people. When I named Gershon, she grunted louder. And at the mention of my son, I could feel her heartbeat increase and felt a slight shiver pass through her. All night, she lay on my chest with a blissful look that transcended all physical constraints. Her good nature emanated through her breathing and a deep peace filled the room as she rested, sometimes with eyes semi-open and other times closed. We were begging her to stay with it, not to go, when it hit me that perhaps it was selfish to wish this on her. What did she want?
It is a fact that when a storm is approaching, eagles will sense it and perch on the highest branches they can find. There, they allow increasing winds to help lift them high above the dark clouds. They soar above the storm, returning to Earth only after it passes.
As the dark clouds of our grief had gathered, Clyde seemed to be patiently waiting out our storm in a transcendent state that soothed our resistance to her final flight.
During that night we reasoned: Clearly, she could not remain in that twisted body… Wasn’t it enough to have these last hours together with her…She seemed to be gliding into some invisible expansion of space. Sensing her gentle rapture, we felt blessed, and finally even resolved. During the night, our dread had changed to acceptance.
At 7 A.M. I opened my eyes to see Clyde lifting her head from my chest, opening both eyes wide, and looking right at me. I thought, “My God, she’s recovered!” as she flapped her wins once–hard. And then just as suddenly her body stiffened. I knew beyond any shadow of doubt that she was gone.
What remained was no longer beautiful. Her mouth was open and I could see blood. I turned to Jim to tell him she had just died but he was not listening— not to me, anyway. Instead he was having a vision of Clyde: having flown out of her lifeless body with that one final flap of her wings, she took off like a shot. Then, returning briefly, he watched as she joyously circled our heads, before taking off for good.
The End
Tova
Tags: A brief resurrection, Clyde, insight, Kindness, meditation, spirituality, Tova Gabrielle
