Signs from Beyond
I laid on the floor with my new furry child. The one that won my heart at a dirty shelter on, of all days, the 6th anniversary of my fathers death.
The one that wandered the isles of the pet store with me as I searched for tempting chew toys. Toy after toy was refused. This bone was no good, nor that, or this next one. On to the next isle... maybe a stuffed toy. Try this ring shaped toy. No, no good either. She just chewed the tag. I stood in the isle looking at all the store had to offer, trying to put myself in the mind of a dog, "What would I want if I were a puppy?" Frank searched the other isles. Toots stayed with me. I turned to check if she was okay, only to see that she had picked a toy of her own. "Oh, good!" I thought,"That worked well." I bent to see what she had. To my surprise, or maybe not, it was a bird!
For the sake of all in need of being brought up to speed, allow me to veer off.
When Dad was in the hospital we had our final conversation. It was the conversation one never looks forward to, but are glad that you had. There was no denying the end was near. At least the end as we know it and I wanted to be sure we didn’t loose touch.
Dad had a great love of nature. More times than I could count, we shared Lawson Deli breakfast sandwiches and coffee at Bay Park, watching flocks of Canadian Geese and Brant on the water. Listening to them purr, as if the flock was conducting an orchestra just for us. It was peaceful. To this day I find comfort in the sound. When I was older, my husband and I moved to a little bay shack in Island Park. This offered another opportunity for Dad and I to enjoy the flocks. It was an us thing.
The one that wandered the isles of the pet store with me as I searched for tempting chew toys. Toy after toy was refused. This bone was no good, nor that, or this next one. On to the next isle... maybe a stuffed toy. Try this ring shaped toy. No, no good either. She just chewed the tag. I stood in the isle looking at all the store had to offer, trying to put myself in the mind of a dog, "What would I want if I were a puppy?" Frank searched the other isles. Toots stayed with me. I turned to check if she was okay, only to see that she had picked a toy of her own. "Oh, good!" I thought,"That worked well." I bent to see what she had. To my surprise, or maybe not, it was a bird!
For the sake of all in need of being brought up to speed, allow me to veer off.
When Dad was in the hospital we had our final conversation. It was the conversation one never looks forward to, but are glad that you had. There was no denying the end was near. At least the end as we know it and I wanted to be sure we didn’t loose touch.
Dad had a great love of nature. More times than I could count, we shared Lawson Deli breakfast sandwiches and coffee at Bay Park, watching flocks of Canadian Geese and Brant on the water. Listening to them purr, as if the flock was conducting an orchestra just for us. It was peaceful. To this day I find comfort in the sound. When I was older, my husband and I moved to a little bay shack in Island Park. This offered another opportunity for Dad and I to enjoy the flocks. It was an us thing.
Here we were, confined to the hospital and unable to have another of those moment.
I had this thought. ‘Dad? Remember how we used to watch the birds?’ He nodded. ‘I will always know you are with me when I see the birds fly.’ He smiled and nodded solidly. This was fitting and a perfect sign for both of us.
After he was gone, I sat at my kitchen table with my blinds wide open. Try as I might, I could not find one bird. I was so mad and so sad. How could this be? There are always birds. ‘You said you would be with me. Where are you!?’ Clearly having a moment, I sat there crying, waiting for the flocks to appear... it wasn’t happening.
Then an interesting thing happened. This little bird - one lone little bird - flew straight for me as I sat at my table. I flinched and ducked, thinking I was going to get hit. Only it wasn’t me that got hit, it was the window. The bird instantly dropped to the ground. In the same instant, I was outside trying to revive this poor creature. There, in my pajamas and pink fuzzy slippers, holding this bird, now crying and laughing. Thank goodness it was early, for the funny farm would have surely been put on notice. I could see, so clearly, my father laughing his hysterical laugh. Dad and his odd humor... there were many times he was the only one that understood it. But this time, I got it. If the flock was there, I wouldn’t have known if it was him or just coincidence. This was no coincidence.
After he was gone, I sat at my kitchen table with my blinds wide open. Try as I might, I could not find one bird. I was so mad and so sad. How could this be? There are always birds. ‘You said you would be with me. Where are you!?’ Clearly having a moment, I sat there crying, waiting for the flocks to appear... it wasn’t happening.
Then an interesting thing happened. This little bird - one lone little bird - flew straight for me as I sat at my table. I flinched and ducked, thinking I was going to get hit. Only it wasn’t me that got hit, it was the window. The bird instantly dropped to the ground. In the same instant, I was outside trying to revive this poor creature. There, in my pajamas and pink fuzzy slippers, holding this bird, now crying and laughing. Thank goodness it was early, for the funny farm would have surely been put on notice. I could see, so clearly, my father laughing his hysterical laugh. Dad and his odd humor... there were many times he was the only one that understood it. But this time, I got it. If the flock was there, I wouldn’t have known if it was him or just coincidence. This was no coincidence.
Frank and the kids were still sleeping. I couldn’t share this with them, but James would be awake. My brother-in-law, more like brother, would surely offer some mental stability right now. James has been a part of our family forever. The relationship started when his Mom had trouble getting him to go to school. Dad was summoned as the morning taxi driver/probation officer. Every day we would pick him up and make sure he got to school. As the relationship grew, it merged into including him on our family trips. Soon our trips were not complete unless James was with us.
I knew he was an early bird like me, and he would have his cell phone. ‘James! You are not going to believe this!’ I told him what happened.
He responded a bit more enthusiastically than I was accustomed to. James is more often the guys guy. The guy that chops the heads off of chickens with Chickie in PA. The guy that broke, with his bare hands, the neck of the deer that mistakenly ran in front of his truck. There was nothing around to put the poor animal out of her misery. So after he sat on the side of the road hugging the wounded animal - one by the way he is allergic to - and did the only merciful thing he could think of. Not that he didn’t shed a tear, for I know otherwise. He did something many could not.
Having him react the way he did to what I was telling him gave me pause. ‘Nancy, you don’t understand. The same thing just happened to me, only my bird flew away!!’
All we could do was laugh. This is exactly the type of twisted humor my father embraced. It sure seemed he was interacting from beyond. Crazy or not, his is how I got through my fathers funeral. I kept that poor little bird for six weeks. It was the proof I needed that it really happened.
But... it didn't end there. There was the time we all were fighting, to the point of not having Easter together, and right at that moment a bird flew into the window.
Or the time I went to a distant family members funeral, after reconnecting by a random phone call - which came about from this overwhelming feeling I had to look in the white pages for any other Hagenmayer’s, only to find that they were just talking about us! ‘What in heavens name prompted you to call!!’ I thought I would get shit on by every bird imaginable for cavorting with people that Dad hadn't spoken to in years.
On the drive home I called my husband, Frank, to tell him how everything went. I was on Nassau Blvd. when a squirrel ran in front of the car. It stopped in the middle of the road and stayed there. So much so that I had to tell Frank to hold on till I could navigate around it. This squirrel stared me down. It was as if it was making sure I was looking. Usually they run off, you know that whole ‘road kill’ thing. Not this one. And to boot, it had something in its mouth. Guess? A live bird! Yes! The poor bird. It was flapping its one exposed wing, the other was being held by the squirrel. It sure seemed that once it noted that I saw, and only then, did the squirrel run off. Well at least I didn’t get shit on... Dad was toying with me.
There was also the time Frank placated me for thinking my dead father was communicating through birds. I was folding laundry, he was standing there trying to talk sense. 'Okay, honey, whatever works for you.’ I was frustrated by the tonality of his comments. Still I did have to wonder - I must be crazy. Just then the sound machine, the one across the room, the one that is always on white noise, turned on all by itself... on, guess what? Chirping birds! Yes! I never have it on chirping birds. Frank looked at me with shock. What could he say. The argument was over. I dropped my laundry, laughing at the timing. Frank scanned the room, then called out, ‘Hi Charlie!’ He waved to the spirits hiding in the air, then abruptly left the room. He hasn’t placated me since.
Or the time I went to a distant family members funeral, after reconnecting by a random phone call - which came about from this overwhelming feeling I had to look in the white pages for any other Hagenmayer’s, only to find that they were just talking about us! ‘What in heavens name prompted you to call!!’ I thought I would get shit on by every bird imaginable for cavorting with people that Dad hadn't spoken to in years.
On the drive home I called my husband, Frank, to tell him how everything went. I was on Nassau Blvd. when a squirrel ran in front of the car. It stopped in the middle of the road and stayed there. So much so that I had to tell Frank to hold on till I could navigate around it. This squirrel stared me down. It was as if it was making sure I was looking. Usually they run off, you know that whole ‘road kill’ thing. Not this one. And to boot, it had something in its mouth. Guess? A live bird! Yes! The poor bird. It was flapping its one exposed wing, the other was being held by the squirrel. It sure seemed that once it noted that I saw, and only then, did the squirrel run off. Well at least I didn’t get shit on... Dad was toying with me.
There was also the time Frank placated me for thinking my dead father was communicating through birds. I was folding laundry, he was standing there trying to talk sense. 'Okay, honey, whatever works for you.’ I was frustrated by the tonality of his comments. Still I did have to wonder - I must be crazy. Just then the sound machine, the one across the room, the one that is always on white noise, turned on all by itself... on, guess what? Chirping birds! Yes! I never have it on chirping birds. Frank looked at me with shock. What could he say. The argument was over. I dropped my laundry, laughing at the timing. Frank scanned the room, then called out, ‘Hi Charlie!’ He waved to the spirits hiding in the air, then abruptly left the room. He hasn’t placated me since.
Then there was the day Alex was upset because Pop Pop didn’t get to see all he was learning in school, especially learning to speak Spanish. I did all I could to comfort him so he would go to school. Hee came home and was crying again. Here’s the conversation. ‘Mommy, you are NEVER going to believe what happened today during Spanish class! A bird flew right into the window and DIED!!! It was disgusting. Its eyeball popped out and stuck to the window. The teacher had to call the janitor to clean it. Kids were getting sick...’ He continued, but I couldn’t hear... because I was too busy laughing. Imagine Alex’s perplexed face. His mother had seriously lost it. I knew, once again, my father in his own demented, yet humorous, was telling me, or more rightly, Alex that he WAS seeing him learn Spanish.
I could go on and on, but let me share one more example. I was having a particularly hard day missing my Dad. On this same day, I also had a new client. (I am a Massage Therapist) Such a hard thing to do - go to work when you just want to curl up into a ball. But here I was. She was a Doctor so I really wanted to make a good impression. A blubbering idiot would simply not do. As I couldn't help the tears running down my face, I maneuvered so they wouldn’t fall on her. Thankfully, she was face down and couldn’t see me. I tilted my head back as I worked, partly to stop the tears and partly to look at the lighting in the ceiling. In my head I had this conversation. ‘Dad, I really need a sure sign. I swear I think I am going crazy. Could all these bird things be odd coincidences? Have I gone mad? I need a bird to fly in this room. Oh! I really have lost it! Look at this room.’ My treatment room was small with no windows. The ceiling light had grates covering it. This is where I wanted the bird to fly out of. Was that too much to ask?
I could go on and on, but let me share one more example. I was having a particularly hard day missing my Dad. On this same day, I also had a new client. (I am a Massage Therapist) Such a hard thing to do - go to work when you just want to curl up into a ball. But here I was. She was a Doctor so I really wanted to make a good impression. A blubbering idiot would simply not do. As I couldn't help the tears running down my face, I maneuvered so they wouldn’t fall on her. Thankfully, she was face down and couldn’t see me. I tilted my head back as I worked, partly to stop the tears and partly to look at the lighting in the ceiling. In my head I had this conversation. ‘Dad, I really need a sure sign. I swear I think I am going crazy. Could all these bird things be odd coincidences? Have I gone mad? I need a bird to fly in this room. Oh! I really have lost it! Look at this room.’ My treatment room was small with no windows. The ceiling light had grates covering it. This is where I wanted the bird to fly out of. Was that too much to ask?
Be careful what you ask for... isn’t that the saying?
It was at this exact moment my clients phone began to ring... or should I say chirp. Lots. of. chirps. A wonderful plethora of singing birds. I never heard of that telephone ring, but there it was. I started to cry. So much for professionalism, and now I had to explain to her why I was crying. I felt such the fool. She wasn’t upset by my lack of professional behavior, however, she was particularly moved by my story. She, too, started to cry - for only moments before this appointment she fidgeted unsuccessfully with her phone trying to find how to change to different ring tones. She couldn’t figure it out, and she didn’t want to be late for her appointment so she left it to fix later on. She didn’t know she had ‘singing bird’ tones on her phone. It was all quite poignant. Leave it to a cell phone to make me feel connected.
Back to the Toots choosing a bird. You can see my surprise... or the actual lack of surprise. I am back to wondering if Dad had some input with this dog. The coincidence of the date, the freckles on her ears.... and now this. All day I see my puppy with this bird. This stuffed, quacking each time she bites it, bird. Dad is still up to his tricks. I am glad he switched to stuffed toys... the real birds have suffered from him enough.
Back to the start of this story... I laid on the floor with my new furry child. She was excited to have me on her level. Last night she fell asleep next to me with her head on the pillow. I moved only after she started dreaming, afraid I was going to get bit in her dream. Tonight I laid next to her on my back. She was so excited, I had to cover my face from the onslaught of licks. Patting my chest to see if she would put her head on me, she climbed her whole body on top of me, like some want-to-be lap dog. Cute but not working for me. I slid her to my side. She licked once more and rolled over onto her back mimicking my position! I couldn't help my laughter. This dog is not normal. I started to massage her chest and paws. She was loving it. In return she affectionately chewed the fingers of my non-massaging hand. I faked a whimper. She nuzzled me anxiously as if to say ‘Sorry,’ then went back to nibbling, only this time with even less pressure. I once again am left wondering about these signs. Is this for real? ‘Bird brain’ is starting to sound quite fitting. Either way, outside influences or not, this fuzzy puppy has managed to capture my attention and my heart ...maybe now the birds will be safe.
It was at this exact moment my clients phone began to ring... or should I say chirp. Lots. of. chirps. A wonderful plethora of singing birds. I never heard of that telephone ring, but there it was. I started to cry. So much for professionalism, and now I had to explain to her why I was crying. I felt such the fool. She wasn’t upset by my lack of professional behavior, however, she was particularly moved by my story. She, too, started to cry - for only moments before this appointment she fidgeted unsuccessfully with her phone trying to find how to change to different ring tones. She couldn’t figure it out, and she didn’t want to be late for her appointment so she left it to fix later on. She didn’t know she had ‘singing bird’ tones on her phone. It was all quite poignant. Leave it to a cell phone to make me feel connected.
Back to the Toots choosing a bird. You can see my surprise... or the actual lack of surprise. I am back to wondering if Dad had some input with this dog. The coincidence of the date, the freckles on her ears.... and now this. All day I see my puppy with this bird. This stuffed, quacking each time she bites it, bird. Dad is still up to his tricks. I am glad he switched to stuffed toys... the real birds have suffered from him enough.
Back to the start of this story... I laid on the floor with my new furry child. She was excited to have me on her level. Last night she fell asleep next to me with her head on the pillow. I moved only after she started dreaming, afraid I was going to get bit in her dream. Tonight I laid next to her on my back. She was so excited, I had to cover my face from the onslaught of licks. Patting my chest to see if she would put her head on me, she climbed her whole body on top of me, like some want-to-be lap dog. Cute but not working for me. I slid her to my side. She licked once more and rolled over onto her back mimicking my position! I couldn't help my laughter. This dog is not normal. I started to massage her chest and paws. She was loving it. In return she affectionately chewed the fingers of my non-massaging hand. I faked a whimper. She nuzzled me anxiously as if to say ‘Sorry,’ then went back to nibbling, only this time with even less pressure. I once again am left wondering about these signs. Is this for real? ‘Bird brain’ is starting to sound quite fitting. Either way, outside influences or not, this fuzzy puppy has managed to capture my attention and my heart ...maybe now the birds will be safe.