Feathers Brush My Heart

I'm reading a book called Feathers Brush My Heart, stories from women who have lost their mothers and their experiences afterwards of signs from their mom.  I look for signs every day.  I had one unusual experience the other day - who knows.  A bird flew into the glass door; I heard that telltale thunk sound.  It happens a few times a year and I didn't investigate immediately.  About 15 minutes later, I went outside for a cigarette (I know, I know - quit date is targeted for April 17th).  I looked down and in the snowbank by the door, I saw a bird's quivering tail, that's all.  It was buried in the snow and all that was showing was its tail and feet.  I got a shovel that we've been using to scrape ice from the deck and scooped it out, snow and all, thinking that it would do what most birds do: die shortly.  I gently dumped the bird out on the grass and as the snow fell away, it flew off.  I've never seen that happen - ever.

My sister told me that recently mom shared that she had been having dreams she was flying.  Not in an airplane, but flying on her own.  She told Kelsey that she LOVED the dreams, that it was so much fun!  It's a wonderful gift for a person who was once deathly afraid of flying.  Mom overcame a flying phobia years ago and got to visit so many exciting places.  She visited places like Guam and many South American countries for business - when there, she had to travel with an armed driver because of the kidnapping threat.  I think she found it pretty thrilling.  Mom and John traveled abroad a lot with friends and family.  Their last big trip was Italy and Greece.  

One thing I appreciate and love about my mom is that she truly was an optimist; not in the Pollyanna sense that all people are wonderful and every day is super-duper groovy.  But she believed that things could and would always improve and that no matter how dark and scary life sometimes could be, that the lows didn't stay low.  She was truly fearless, and when she WAS scared, she just picked herself up and went headlong into things until she wasn't afraid anymore.  She was just SO STRONG in so many ways.

Tomorrow the kids and I travel to Florida.  We booked these tickets eight days before mom died.  I'm happy to be in her place among her things, but am scared of how sad that might feel.  Most of the time, this still feels completely unreal and absurd.  How can someone we love this fiercely not be here?  I feel her presence and her memory in every second of the day.