The Eternal Family Ties That Bind

gracie-gardener (51)in #grief • 5 years ago (edited)

Good day everyone! it’s a wonderful time of year and it’s a great morning. The air feels refreshing. My creative vibes are flowing and it feels great to hang about the house with my pets.

It seems like things are finally changing for the better around here. Thankfully autumn has arrived and there are new opportunities and a job prospect.

I’ve decided that if I get this dream job (as a gardener!) I am going to treat myself to a new tattoo. A robin tattoo.

https://unsplash.com/@anniespratt

Robins have had a lot of meaning for me lately. I’m sad that robins will be leaving my area soon and I will only have my memories (and hopefully a new tatt).

Did you know that robins love to eat fermented berries this time of year? They actually will gorge on them until they’re all sorts of soused and then take try to fly off. I always say flying is better with booze.

They will leave, only to come back around April 1st, ready to sing away the sorrow of a whole year without my father.

My dad passed away on April fools day. I think it would make him chuckle to know it went down on that day.

My dad was a really great man, which is surprisingly rare to hear about nowadays. He was full of faith, love, and humor, with the mouth of a sailor.

My loss has been great, because the quality of father’s character was great.

I have always been a bit of a daddy’s girl.

The deep connection between my father and I became more aparent last year. I began to have signs in April 2018 that things were going to change.

When I would relax in bed, or study, or meditate this terrible picture came into my mind.

My father was dead. I standing at the front of a chapel giving his eulogy to a packed house. Everyone was sobbing as I talked about what a wonderful man he was.

It was horrible to have these flashes come on unexpectedly. Sometimes it happened seveal times day.
I didn’t want to believe it. I thought I was going crazy.

It made no sense. Dad and I were going into business together. He was going to be my bee and honey guy at my farm. He was retiring and having knee surgery and all would be great with the world.

So I tried to repress it. When I couldn’t, I selfishly begged God to make it go away. The visions stopped.

I was foolish to think that was the end.

Last summer my dad had his long anticipated knee surgery. It didn’t go well and he had complications. When they went to investigate they discovered loads of cancer. Everyone was shocked, except me. Stupid me.

The moment my dad said “well they found something”, I knew it was starting.

I might not have felt much surprise but I was still devastated. I had my moments of denial but mostly my thoughts were swallowed up by this suffocating anxiety. At any time and in any situation, I could end up gasping like a fish out of water, barely able to communicate the heartbreak I was feeling.

My sweet dad was there to comfort me with hugs and kind words. The time I had with my dad, post diagnosis, was the best gift I have ever gotten. During the worst moments, when I thought I would rip apart and blow away, he was right there to comfort me. He was such a great dad, he helped me grieve, while encouraging me to keep my shit together. He always had a way of saying just the right thing.

He lived his last months with such fun and love. He got to spoil his family and he loved it.

After he was finally able to leave this physical world and all its suffering, I waited for him to show me that he was still here. Just like he said he would.

I spoke at his funeral just like I envisioned.
Just like his life and death, it was heartbreakingly beautiful.
I sang Rainbow Connection, and my kid played her grandpa’s ukulele.

It was 100% Bob.

Dad always looked happiest when he was with the grandkids.

After it was all done, I was pissed off.

I was furious that my dad was gone and everyone was in so much pain. My anger energized me, and I decided to tear a few dead bushes out of my parents yard.

I broke and cut branch after branch until I had massive piles of foot long pieces.

Even with all the commotion I was making, a little unseen bird sat up in the tree above me and sang it’s little heart out for 3 hours.

I later realized it was a robin.

Angry gardening has been very cathartic for me. I can beat the shit out of the ground and I’m rewarded with vegetables. Win, win.

It became quite routine this spring and summer to go out and have a temper tantrum while being serenaded by my robins.

I talk to my dad still. It helps me feel connected to him. I tell him how I feel and I get real quiet and try to think about what he might say.

One night in June, I was up at 3am and I decided to talk to dad. I started off with the robins and scolded him for giving me such a weak sign. How was I to know for sure it is him?!

I was almost immediately interrupted by a steady stream of robin chirps from my balcony.

So you’re probably saying “okay Gracie, maybe robins chirp all the time and you’ve never noticed?” To that I say, I’m up at 3 am all the time (RLS) and I have never once heard any robin singing out there at night!

As I stood out on my balcony and listened to my feathered friend, I decided it was time to see if there was any reason why dad would pick a robin.

Right away, a quick internet search and I came across the story of the robin and the passion. It’s not a biblically based story, rather religious lore or legend.

A robin came to Jesus while he was on the cross. He saw that thorns were piercing Jesus’ brow, so the robin tried to remove the crown of thorns. He was pricked on his breast, causing it to bleed.

Unable to ease Jesus’ suffering, the robin sang to him instead.

Just like I sang to my dad as he died...

... and now, every time I grieve, a robin comes along and sings it’s sweet little song for me.