Who are you redbird- sitting on a limb A long lost loved one- or dear departed friend You keep coming back to see me- every now and then Who are you redbird- sitting on a limb? -Lyrics by Beth Husband and Milan Miller Since we got back to Kyeema North, I have been waiting and wondering when I would get a visit from a Cardinal. We do see them here, but there aren’t as many Cardinals flitting about as there are Blue Jays or Robins for instance, so when I do see one it excites me every time.
There is wonderful folklore associated with Cardinals or other red birds. Some people view a visit from a Cardinal as a sign from a loved one that has passed and that their spirit is still alive. It is considered a happy event - one that can uplift you from feelings of sadness or loneliness as though the departed are letting you know they are OK. Since my friend Mary passed away last month, I have been hoping for a visit from a red bird. I have seen a couple flying while out driving, but none have actually come and perched nearby. When Mick’s mother passed a few years back, it wasn’t long before we had such a visitation. We were out on our morning walk and a pair of Cardinals - a male and female flew across our path at eye level and landed in a nearby tree. I turned to him and said, “Look, it’s your mum and dad letting us know they are together again.” It was a bittersweet moment for both of us and even the non-believer in us had a hard time imagining it wasn’t some sort of divine message from the other side. I like to think it was a moment of mystery and magic that allowed us to pause and allow for some tears of grief to flow. Maybe we needed a nudge and it worked. Now that I have admitted that I am open to such myths and often interpret coincidence and synchronicity as potential messages I am meant to hear and understand, I want to examine what happened this morning. As most of you are aware, I also lost my father in February. So, I have been half expecting a red bird visit on his behalf as well. The thing is, I’m not sure I want to hear from him. For sixty five years I had a love/hate relationship with him. There isn’t another human in this world that could push my buttons the way he did. I won’t speak ill of him here, but I will say, I won’t miss him. For the first time in my life I am free of his impact on me and I don’t think I have settled into this new found freedom yet. In fact, I think I have been avoiding thinking too deeply about it at all. It’s like having a brand new novel on your bedside table, one you’ve been really excited to read, but you haven’t cracked it open yet because you know once you do, you will dive so deep into it, it will consume you for days. I’m not ready to dive in yet. What happened this morning was like a bit of an epiphany. I had a red bird visit and I am certain is wasn’t Mary. I am thinking it might just have been my father though. It wasn’t an ordinary visit. Far from it. This beautiful brilliant male Cardinal appeared in front of the house as we stepped out for our morning walk. He wasn’t flying past, or perched on a limb of the apple tree. No, this red bird was laying on the gravel in the driveway…dead. Both Mick and I were devastated. We have had plenty of other birds die after hitting a window on the house but never a Cardinal. We were sick over it. Normally we toss the unfortunate bird bodies into the woods and let nature take its course but we did not have it in us to allow this handsome fellow to rot in the bush, so we buried him under our special five-fingered tree. It was far more dignified and I was touched by Mick’s suggestion we treat this colourful fine feathered friend with the respect he deserved. After we buried him we set off on our walk. We were silent - both lost in our own thoughts about what had just happened. Had this red bird just delivered a powerful message to me? Had this Cardinal flown full speed into my house like a suicide bomber to make sure I got the message? Was this my father’s way of communicating something I needed to hear? By now I was convinced it was him and definitely not my friend Mary. Mary had appeared inadvertently I now realized a few days ago when I was cleaning out my desk drawer. I had forgotten I had saved a beautiful card with an image of a cardinal (pictured above here). I took it out of the drawer and it now sits on my window sill above my desk, giving me joy each time I look at him and that is something Mary would want for me. Something pretty to look at while I am writing. No, this dead bird was my father alright. Aggressive. Reckless. Loud. Flashy. Self destructive. Doomed. And now dead. What was I to make of this final dramatic appearance? Well, this is what I would like to think. He got to the other side where suddenly he was able to see how he had affected everyone back here on this earthly plane. He was finally able to see how his fiery temper and abusive words and actions had harmed the people he purported to love and he needed me to see that he couldn’t hurt me anymore. He needed to show me it was over. He knew a live appearance would not convey what he wanted to say. He had one last shot to relay what he only now realized I needed to hear. It was an apology. It was suddenly so obvious to me. I could almost imagine him taking off, his wings flapping faster and faster, his black beady bird eyes squinting, full of tears that were evaporating in the cold morning air as he headed toward my window to make one last attempt to get my attention. What better way than to offer his life? To crash into my house and my heart, and say “I am so sorry Deb. Please forgive me.” Since he has been gone, an odd sense of calm has enveloped me. I will never again need to defend myself against him. Not physically, but emotionally. All his trigger pulling days are done. I don’t need to hold on to all that anger anymore. As many times as I thought I had come to terms with him, forgiven him, pitied him, diminished his influence over me - I had never really been able to shake him off entirely. He had never acknowledged any wrong-doing. His inability to see his role was always clouded. He never took responsibility for his actions. But now he came back under the guise of this poor bird, knowing I would get it. He had to die so I could fully live. Perhaps this is less of an ending and more of a beginning. We’re all free now. My mother, my brother and me. He will no longer be the centre of most of our conversations. None of us will ever have to walk around on eggshells again. His demands on our time and patience have come to an end. He is out of his misery and at last, so are we. I do like the idea that his avian representative is now safely buried under our favourite tree here at Kyeema North, just in case I ever do feel the need to talk to him (or at him), especially knowing he can’t talk back. At the very least, he will be close enough to watch the rest of my life unfold from a safe distance, and all I can say about that is… Watch me dad, watch me finally fly free.
12 Comments
Peggy Thompson
4/5/2023 04:27:41 am
Quite the story, Deb. Beautifully written as always. Hopefully your journey with your dad is a little easier going forward.
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Deb
4/5/2023 04:47:21 am
Thanks Peg. Early days of life after dad…time will tell.
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Deb
4/5/2023 06:16:12 am
Parent/Child relationships are complicated. I like to think we have done better. Love you too!
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Carla Bethlenfalvy
4/5/2023 10:24:18 am
Wow - an intense and moving piece! It's amazing how people/loved ones can have such power over others. Thankfully, you and your brother didn't inherit your father's traits. May you and your family have many years of peace, harmony and joy ahead!
Deb
4/5/2023 01:54:40 pm
Thank you Carla.
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Helen
4/5/2023 01:57:04 pm
Thank you! I could relate to every word written.
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Deb
4/5/2023 02:07:45 pm
Glad you could relate.
Margot
4/5/2023 02:09:54 pm
My Cardinal follows me to every place I've lived. They mate for life, I wonder what happened to the female. ❤️❤️
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Deb
4/5/2023 02:12:08 pm
i wonder too. I'll keep an eye out for her.
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Nancy
4/5/2023 02:14:24 pm
Hugs❤️
Deb
4/5/2023 02:15:11 pm
Thank you.
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DEBunked.I see nature as a metaphor for life. Please join me on this journey down the garden path as I explore life through story - a shovel in one hand and a camera in the other. Archives
May 2023
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