I met a remarkable woman last night who shared a story that will send chills down the spine of even the most recalcitrant skeptic. Like me, Becky lost her 20 year old son to suicide and we share many of the same struggles. She recounted many stories, but this is one of my favorites.
As most of us bereaved mothers do, she longed for a sign from her son that would assure her he was at peace, that he was still around, somehow. One day, while lying on his gravesite, she pleaded for him to give her such a sign. Right away, a black bird flew across her, followed a moment later by the rest of its flock. Okay, so that could be explained by coincidence, right? I mean, birds do fly in the sky, even the sky above a gravesite. But this is where the story defies explanation.
One day, she found a little black bird perched on one of her son’s bookshelves…in her home! She knew it was him. She felt his presence. Furthermore, the bird didn’t flinch, much less fly away, when she gently scooped it up in her hands. She carried it lovingly to the door and let it go. As the bird flew away, she said her grateful goodbyes. How did that little bird get into the house? There were no open windows. Becky wasn’t in the habit of leaving doors open. And why a black bird? Couldn’t it just have easily been a sparrow, a bluejay? I do believe it was her son trying to let her know that he was free from earthly bonds, that he was okay, at peace and with her. What do you believe?