17

I was holding Selah in my arms outside this evening, in silence, simply listening to the breeze make a song with the oak's leaves and watching the small wisps of clouds disappear amongst the blue. A crow and some vultures were soaring up high, as doves and songbirds soared from branch to branch.

"Why do some birds fly really high and others only fly low?", she asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know all the specifics, baby, but I do know though that many indigenous tribes revere the eagle. Because it can fly so high, higher than any other bird, they believe it is closest to God/Creator and a place some call heaven."

I sat there looking up with her, thinking of heaven. Of Michael. Of all those I love that are on the other side of the very thin veil. 

"You know what, Selah....you're my eagle."

"Why?"

"Because every day, you bring me a bit closer to heaven, to the magic in the world."

Then we got quiet and I cried with a smile on my face with this understanding, and how in that very moment I wish Michael could have met her in person (while also acknowledging the irony that she wouldn't have existed had that been the case).

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Tomorrow marks 17 years since he was killed and I admittedly forgot all about it till I received a beautiful message this morning. I didn't feel bad for forgetting, I was more so taken aback that I hadn't found myself comatose on the couch (historically I've found that my body remembers before my mind). The last few days Selah and I chatted over breakfast about tornadoes (her latest fascination), met up with her cousins, ran around a playground, checked the garden and chickens, picked plums, snuggled on the couch watching a movie about a singing pony...we've just been. Then, because God's timing is always on time, I randomly read an email that stated, "Nostalgia demands that we grieve what is gone so that we don't miss what's right in front of us."

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So to bring this odd story of random moments together, I know we all grieve things/people/losses in life, and I've let grief consume me, as I've so willingly allowed her to in years past. BUT…..I find it no coincidence that I've always known and felt Michael around the most over the years when I've let myself feel, explore, acknowledge, take ownership, laugh, and let go. They're the same exact actions necessary for my healing.

So when I think of my own little "eagle", this tiny being that makes me feel all the things that I never thought possible, and heal all the residual sadness that was never mine to cling to, I find that I am nostalgic but not miserable, over the way Michael's human journey transpired. What happened to him will never be fair...that is certain...but I will allow it to be the reason I feel as if I'm closer to heaven on earth, in all the little ways (and all the tiny humans), in all the little steps towards feeling more, in each day that I'm blessed with.

My hope for you is that one day you feel the same about the situations that broke your heart into a million pieces...that you find a sliver of heaven in your everyday existence, in the now…and in that sliver you see their smile once more.

It's the best way I know how to honor him and all that have parted.

It took me 17 years to feel this way, and I wouldn't have wished it to have arrived any earlier.

Thank you, my angel.

Photo by Rachel McDermott on Unsplash