Sunday, March 4, 2012

I Asked for a Hawk.

A dear friend passed away earlier this week. In addition to grieving his loss, I've been grieving my inability to say a final goodbye, which I was unable to do in the weeks before his passing. His services will be held in private, and it surprised me how much this felt like salt in my wound. Irrational, probably, but I am left with the uncomfortable feeling of unfinished business, lack of closure. Closure for me, of course - not for him - which feels selfish, but there it is.


I prayed for him in church today, and on the drive home, I sent a silent prayer up to the sky: "If you've arrived safely at your new destination, my friend, please send me a sign. Show me a hawk on my drive home."


Nipping at the heels of this request came a series of internal admonitions: Who am I to dictate to a dearly departed that they should communicate with me, let alone how and in what time frame. My eyes scanned the tree tops as I drove, but I felt foolish, knowing full well that such appearances don't occur on demand. Also, we live in an area where hawk sightings are not unusual, so I had requested a sign in a form that might be nothing more than a daily occurrence. What a dolt. 


I sped through a changing yellow light to turn onto the wide main drag that marks my last leg home. To my left are the town's municipal offices. To my right, an old cemetery. 


I completed the turn and was passing the cemetery when sweeping into view from the right came a smallish hawk, wings spread wide in a graceful, unhurried glide. It wasn't circling high over head, it was crossing my path, and it banked to its right a bit to show me its smooth, creamy underside before continuing its slide toward the municipal complex and out of my view. 


Several months ago, my friend's bladder was removed. Most recently, the cancer had invaded his liver, and his back was giving him a lot of pain. The chemo and radiation sapped what remained of his flagging energy, and he was frustrated that while his mind was willing to get up and go, his body was unable. 


This was not a hawk at rest. I don't know if it was at work or at play or just taking in the view on this grey March morning, but it appeared healthy, strong and free. 


I thought: I will never know if this is the sign I requested, but I can choose to believe that it is. And in making the choice, my eyes filled with tears, my heart swelled, and the need to look down into a casket to pay my last respects was winged away with the vision of the hawk. 


I am reminded of the importance of asking for what we need - whether a sign, a hug, an apology, whatever - however silly or unimportant or selfish it may seem. Because sometimes, oftentimes, we really, actually get it. And when we do, we get heard and validated and made a little more whole. 


Rest in peace, dearest P. I'm glad you made it home safely. 

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