Into a world still reeling from the recent 9/11 attacks that had gripped the nation just six weeks earlier, Londyn made her grand entrance on October 24, 2001, in Austin, TX. As much as we loved our time spent in the city known for “keeping it weird”, it wouldn’t be long before our overnight title change to parenthood would introduce us to a world of isolation we didn’t know existed.
And so in the spring of 2002 we said our goodbyes to 6th street and all the colorful memories that only a young married couple with little to no attachments can make. With family center of mind we set our sights north and moved to the DFW area. After a couple years spent in a small but homey apartment, in the fall of 2004 we realized our dream as first time homeowners.
In keeping with its size, our backyard was at best a square plot of dirt, tiny but functional for our purposes. A special and unique gift would come to mark this space a few years later when, on a crisp October evening, we were gifted a young pear tree. Unfortunately, the green-thumb gene, very prominent on both sides of our family, managed to skip both Sean and me. Naturally, we became immediately concerned for this poor tree’s chances, but to our utter astonishment and joy, the tree took root and would display beautiful blossoms every spring.
It was during one of these spring seasons a family of birds moved in. We watched over the days and weeks as they completed construction of their straw home within the branches of our tree. Eggs were laid, and eventually little baby birds were spotted. Londyn, now a kindergartener, was thrilled by the whole process, and though my memory is fuzzy at best, I can envision my little girl asking for a boost from dad to take a peek.
I can still see her sweet little face. Bright blue eyes and copper colored pigtails, looking back at those first few years when our family was just starting out, these years that had no shortage of challenges are now seen as so very precious. As all parents do, we often dream of what the future has in store. Watching with measured anticipation, we brace ourselves as the inevitable promise of “someday” makes its slow but steady approach. Floating out on the horizon it brings with it a promise of things that will be. A future full of color and dreams. A vision of how our lives will change and the exciting new adventures it holds both for ourselves and our young adult children. Not once does that vision include their death.
Unfortunately, Londyn’s moment with the baby birds although briefly poetic, did not end as we would have hoped. Mother Nature can be an unapologetic bully and our sweet Disney-themed moment quickly turned into a grizzly scene straight out of National Geographic when one morning Sean suddenly discovered the nest was empty. A quick scanning of the grounds surrounding the tree revealed the ugly truth, and after quickly disposing of two tiny baby bird bodies, we put our “parent hats” on and told Londyn they had grown up and flown away.
I find this memory resurfacing as our second “baby”, now a 6’1” young man soon to turn 19, truly has grown up and left the nest. And like most things lately, the irony is profound. A beginning and ending, Ying and Yang, we find ourselves hanging precariously in the balance. Adopting our newest title “empty nesters”, never once did I imagine our meeting of this moment on the horizon to include simultaneous visits to a local cemetery in search of our daughter’s final resting place. But we now find ourselves navigating a foreign road that has no map. And as we mark the two year anniversary of her passing, it’s through much inner reflection, time and support that we find our road has steered us to this moment.
Awakened by an unusually quiet house, my mind in constant motion and unable to sleep, this particular morning finds me up and out at the gym earlier than usual. With Brendan on my mind, his recent move bringing with it all the worries that only a parent can truly understand, I once again find my drive home spent bargaining with the universe. And this time the answer is swift. Turning the corner onto our street I find myself awestruck by the unexpected sign greeting me. It’s in this moment I’m reminded of the secret connection we now have, a special link to the other side fueled by our very own angel. And this time she has brought a friend. Perched on a wire crossing overhead, the sunrise at their backs, I am met by two birds. Sitting side by side with unswerving purpose they stand sentinel. Remaining in place as the seconds tick by, their message is conveyed through their intentional stillness. Your nest is not empty, we are always with you and all will be well.
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