The weeks and months following Mom’s death were filled with soul-deep exhaustion for me. The day I flew home from the funeral, my husband took our beloved 16 year old dachshund, Bruno, to be put to sleep. His decline was rapid and the spot he left in our hearts was big.
I would often wait until after dark and take my walk around our subdivision so that my tears of grief multiplied wouldn’t be so easily seen. I have always loved the night and its mysteries. The sounds of the nocturnal creatures: the frogs, locusts, birds and crickets are soothing to me. The slight breeze stirring the leaves on the trees and the pine boughs creating a gentle “shhhhh”-hushing sound as I walk by.
This night, after listening to the quiet for awhile, I put my I-pod ear buds in to block out all the painful thoughts for just awhile. I turned the selection to my favorite Native American flautist, R. Carlos Nakai whose music speaks to me in a profound way, stirring, somehow, distant memories and always soothes my troubled spirit.
I walked on, pounding pavement to shake out the pain of grief, muttering to God to let me know somehow that my Mama was truly in His presence (as if I really had any doubt). I was tired and hurting and incredibly sad and empty.
I came to a street light by the front gates of the complex where we live and was forced to stop for a minute for a car to pass. There at my feet, a single, perfect feather; another sign of angels’ presence. Request for confirmation about Mama answered.