His Eye is on the Sparrow, And I know He watches me.

Perhaps the fact that I haven’t written about him is indication enough that I’m beginning to feel something I haven’t felt in a very long time, something I have been waiting to feel again, and hoping to feel again.

Until last week, I had forbidden my friends from speaking to me about him. That way, I could enjoy the feelings that surfaced every time I was with him and still retreat back into denial in order to cope with old feelings of guilt, feelings I have always known I would eventually have to face. There are no shortcuts in grief. Every emotion felt must be faced in order to gain entry into a future pregnant with fortitude, happiness, forgiveness and health.

Four years is a very long time. Some say it’s too long, but what is time when a loss of such magnitude, the loss of a spouse, completely consumes a person’s world? Time stands still. A four-year time span is difficult for people who haven’t had the experience to wrap their minds around. Instead, talk of the “one-year mark” circulates because the sooner the ones left behind feel better, the sooner the people in their lives can stop feeling so sad for them. A common thought is that all of the “firsts” are over with after one year. Not true. There are firsts I didn’t even know existed. There was the first time I went back to school, the first time I moved, the first time I made the dean’s list, the first time I got a new job, the first time I’m going to apply for my Ph.D. in Psychology and the first time I met a man I felt I could really be with. That’s four years and counting.

It’s not a matter of dwelling. It’s a matter of knowing. Knowing a person who once walked the earth is no longer here. Where do dead people go? I carry with me a sense of wonder, and I believe I am surrounded by souls who, no longer bound by flesh and bone, have the power to touch our lives in very beautiful ways.

While sitting on a bench on the edge of Spy Pond, yesterday, Jonathan and I witnessed a most beautiful occurrence. A small sparrow flew down from wherever he had been perched and landed on the ground, 6-inches from Jonathan’s foot. I said, “That’s strange. Sparrows never get that close.” I know, because I love sparrows and I periodically try to feed them whenever I sit outside drinking coffee and snacking on some decadent piece of flaky pastry. Typically, sparrows will perch on the chair across the table from me and wait for me to throw crumbs their way, but every attempt I have made to lure one closer has failed.

Yesterday, the little sparrow jumped up onto the bench where we sat and walked behind Jonathan. I stood and moved to his other side, waiting for the precious bird to appear. When he did, I extended my hand, placing it on the bench in front of him and my new little friend placed one of his little bird-feet on my pinky finger, hopped up onto my hand and proceeded to walk the entire length of my arm to my shoulder where he sat for at least 20 seconds. My heart filled, and a flood of emotion surged throughout my body. I wanted to cry and I wanted to laugh.

I moved very slowly, so as not to frighten him, and when he was ready, he flew from my shoulder, landed on the ground and continued on his way, leaving behind two very affected people, still frozen in disbelief.

My brother has always told me that when a sparrow lands near you, God is watching. My sparrow was a sign from Chris that everything is right and that he approves of my new friend, a man I feel I may be falling in……..to be continued.