Losing Those We Love

Cats are lovely creatures. I even have one myself. But they are also natural hunters. I read that house cats are actually more likely to to catch the creature they are after, than any other animal!

The cat that I’m taking care of in Hawaii is no exception. Here we are, on nearly 5 acres of untamed land, with birds of every color flitting about. All sorts of wild things inhabit this property-even wild boars.

This morning, when I was having my cup of coffee outside on the lanai, I heard a chirping noise behind me. I turned around, and my darling adopted kitty had caught yet another bird, and was playing with her.

I grabbed the poor bird out of Pua’s grasp, and held my breath. Had it been damaged beyond repair? It sat quietly in my palm, closing it’s eyes, seemingly unconcerned that I was holding it. Worrisome, to say the least.

I’ve had three recent experiences with dead or dying birds in the last month. I’m wondering if the universe is trying to tell me something.

The first was in Ashland. A lovely yellow bird smashed into my sliding glass door, and proceeded to die in my sight. I was devastated. I cried so hard. It brought up so many feelings of loss and despair. My eyes are tearing up, just thinking about it.

The second time was in Hawaii. I was half asleep, and heard something squeaking. The squeaking continued. Annoyed, I glanced over at the cat, and noted wearily that she had a brown squeaky toy she was batting around. It took me awhile to realize what it was.

I saved the birdie, but she did not look well. I held her in my hand, as she closed one eye, and then the other. I cried for her. I wasn’t sure if she would die, or if she was in shock. I made sure that the cat was indoors and occupied. I placed her on the ground, underneath a palm tree, as she wasn’t stable enough to sit on a branch.

I came back later and she was gone. I will never know if she was eaten by some beast, or if she recovered, and flew away.

Again this great sadness welled up inside me. I sobbed. This poor, gentle little bird probably died in terror.

I think often of my brother Matthew, who died when he was 16. He was having surgery for a heart defect, and he never made it through. I prayed to God over and over that he might live. It was a huge shock for me, when the surgeons came out and told my parents that he wouldn’t survive.

It’s hard for me to grasp that this was over 30 years ago. Losing someone you love stays with you for your lifetime. I still talk to him, and he visits me in my dreams. He made everyone laugh, and was so full of life. It doesn’t make sense that he died so young.

I am guessing that my sorrow over these birds has something to do with innocence being destroyed. With my brother being snatched away from me. God didn’t hear me, or if He did, he did not answer my prayer.

For a very long time I was infuriated with God, and I denied that He existed. Slowly over time I have welcomed Him back into my life. But that’s another story.

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