Wednesday, June 30, 2010


My two new fledglings are learning how to talk, and they practice a LOT! This can be very annoying but I'm so into this little family that I don't mind their banter. I witnessed one mature crow sitting high in a tree and would give three caws .... the 'kid' sitting in another tree would mimic almost perfectly the adults call - except for the little break in h/her voice. Then the adult would do a slightly different call with only two caws ... another attempt at a perfect mimic. This went on for at least 10 minutes. Fascinates me.

Crows are known to grieve the loss of a family member and have been witnessed sitting very close to another crow while that crow dies. Elephants will grieve for weeks or even months when they lose a tribe member, the living not leaving the spot that their gentle giant lies for all this time. Someone said that grief is purely a human emotion ... I beg to differ.

Somehow I find it reassuring to know that the loss of a family member can wreak such havoc in a family of crows or elephants. Somehow I feel less alone knowing that the loss of an individual is horribly powerful no matter what our species.

I've been following another blog that a friend of a friend sent me. It is a woman in northern California (and a friend to this acquaintance of mine, also in CA) who lost her husband 4 months ago to cancer. She is mirroring all that I am going through now. In her latest writings she said that she no longer is afraid of her grief. This hit a chord with me. The last few weeks I have been doing really well; very few tears shed, more laughing then crying really and just not letting my mind go too deep into thoughts of Jim. I was thinking there was something wrong with me ... but this week I've hit another wall and it's starting to crumble on me. And I wonder ... am I afraid of my grief? I think maybe I am. I think I worry if I pull this little finger from the damn I will simply drown in the flood that will hit me. There's a leak though, and it all comes spilling out anyway.

I berate myself for not being able to do much around the house. I get so overwhelmed so quickly and lose energy so fast and then I just collapse, unable to move. I think about how an elephant will stand sentry over their dead ... or crows will stand fast beside their dying. I too can just let things go, just sit and stare at his empty chair and stand, sentry, over my aching heart.

Thank you all for being there for and with me. I do know you're there, I do feel you, my tribe, my family, and I do
love you all back!


  1. The thing is, you're not doing "nothing." You're processing, processing, processing. Those hours of staring are really productive. You have 14 months of tornado wreckage cluttering your brain. It takes time to pick through the piles, decide what to mend and what to store and what to leave behind. There's no such thing as wasted time. The mind will demand what it needs to reconstruct itself around this big loss.

  2. Do you see it, Mary? As you take care of your crows, they are taking care of you!

  3. Mark, sometimes I do see it, yes. On a magical, universal level ... and it's wonderful.

    Hannah, I find I'm giving myself more permission to simply stare and think now .... thank you!