Remembering.
Today, I remember you - your kindness, joy, and big heart. I remember all the happy memories you gave me, and how you made my childhood richer. I feel you with me when I’m by the water, and I think of you with your fishing rod in the early evening sun, casting your line in the calm and quiet, now understanding what that time might have meant to you. I remember the ways you showed up for me while you were living, and the ways you’ve showed up for me since your passing, one year ago today.
The last thing you said to me, as you walked out my front door, was that my house needed a watercolor painting of a bird, one that you fully intended on creating for me. You died before you could do so, but that didn’t stop you from fulfilling your intention. Instead, you came to me, just one week after your passing, in a spectacle of freedom - the largest flock of birds I have ever seen, over the sand dunes in our favorite beach town, the place I remember you most. I watched them swoop and dive above the berry bushes, over and over again, feeling overtaken by your presence and love. Later, I learned that these migratory birds were swallows, and because I’m one for symbolism, I looked up what they represent. Fittingly, they signify the path home. It was believed that swallows guaranteed sailors a safe homecoming after a long journey, hence the Sailor Jerry style tattoo of the bird on the sailor’s chest. The tale continues with the idea that, should the sailor be swept away at sea, the swallow would lift him to the heavens. Pop Pop, you outdid yourself on that one.
Seven months later, in the midst of a nationwide quarantine, a bird decided to build a nest on my front door wreath, right where I last remember you standing. For about a month, she perfected her home by day, every so often looking in at us through the glass, and returned each night from her foraging, where she slept until morning. She eventually abandoned the nest before laying her eggs. But she gave me unexpected company, hope in the midst of uncertainty, and a reminder that you’re still here with me, making sure I’m okay. You surely gave me my bird, and then some. Thank you for always finding ways to offer my heart strength.
For a while, I struggled because I didn’t get to say goodbye to you and express gratitude for everything you did for me. But perhaps that wasn’t necessary… you clearly are not saying goodbye. Instead you’ve shown me how love transcends, and continues on.
Love you, Pop Pop. I miss you every day.
In loving memory of my Pop Pop
Robert Lawrence Trees
July 7, 1933 - August 27, 2019