There is not much left of the vitality that once defined my Mom. No tree-climbing with her grandkids, no crazy coast-to-coast-sleeping-in-the-back-of-the-van-like-teenagers adventures with her husband, no baking a million buns and angel food cakes to feed the neighbourhood.
Cancer is taking bite after bite, leaving only her beautiful smile and giant heart to remind us of what once was.
She spends most of her days in bed or on the giant armchair by the window. Just outside the window by the armchair is a line of bird feeders, lovingly filled each week by her husband. A myriad of birds visit her each day – chickadees, sparrows, bluejays, and wood peckers. She sits and watches them, hour after hour, day after day.
Those birds heal her, bit by bit. They can’t take the cancer away, but they give her the simple gift of pleasure that makes it worth getting out of bed every day. They remind her of what it was like to be wild, and what it will be like to be wild again, once she has left behind this failing body.
It was the same for my father-in-law in the months before he died. His gardening tools and beloved tractors sat motionless in the yard. The fire pit – his favourite place to sit – held no more flames. And yet, each day, the birds came to keep him company at his window.
I want to say profound things about the healing power of nature and the travesty of the way our cities have tried to tame the wild out of the earth and out of ourselves, but by now there’s a lump in my throat that is blocking my words. I will let Wendell Berry say it for me…
THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS (by Wendell Berry)
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
The same lump is blocking my reply Heather. Blessings to you and your Mom.
Beautiful. You inspire me with the way you always have the courage to look head-on at the really hard stuff in life – the stuff that most people think is too scary or ugly to look at, and then you come back and report the beauty you saw.
Big love to you, your mum and the rest of your family.
Beautiful piece. Still praying for you, your mom and your family.
Lump-in-the throat here as well, Heather. You are so spot on in your words and sentiment. No one should spend the end of their time here on earth in a sterile environment deprived of nature. Sending you strength in this difficult time.
Maybe that’s what we’ll have to do in her honour someday… Hang up birdfeeders by hospitals and old folks’ homes.
Dear Heather, I am saddened to learn of your mother’s death. I saw your courage to be there at Gather the Women in Sept. when you learned that her cancer had returned and you stayed with us, lending your own brand of courage, spirit and love to our gathering. Thank you for letting us know that she has passed and thank you for the beauty of her spirit that lives on in you and is shared with such compassion with us. Bless you, my friend, Suzan Nolan