Saturday, January 9, 2010

The tale of the white feather

Something I have learned is that many churches, bereavement groups and, well, cemeteries hold special group memorials in the early part of December -- often in conjunction with Advent. And so it was at Green Acres.

I went down there that evening, more than a month ago, now. Many had candles, but I neglected to buy one. Luckily, I had my flashlight and a map; finally, I found the spot, which does not yet have its headstone. As with the other mourners, we were each at the spot we needed to be at.

Those of you who were there with me three months ago today know that we were able to follow one of Jim's strong wishes, to have him buried by the duck pond (in what turned out to be the last plot available).

As I got there, I saw that there were ducks of all colors, including white, who quacked and then fell silent as the music began.

As I found the spot, right on the spot, I found a single feather ... a white feather ... bent almost as though it were angel's wings.

I searched all around for many feet all around, including closer to the duck pond. But I didn't see any other feathers.

You may interpret that as you like. I do my best to take comfort in it. And, yes, I still have the white feather.

2 comments:

  1. Oh, Judith. I am so sorry to hear of such a tremendous loss. I don't know if you remember me - Dawn Williams. I'm bored tonight and looking up old friends and acquaintances on the internet. Somehow I remembered you and wondered what you were doing now...and here you are. What a beautiful piece "The tale of the white feather" is. I wish you much peace, dear girl. Dawn

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  2. Hi, Dawn. Yes, of course I remember you. I am sorry that you had to find me this way, but I am very glad that you DID find me.

    I would love to hear from you again ... I am "emailable" from the college website, vvc.edu

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