(Picture taken of one of our countless mynas that have made our house their home. They are one of the first to awaken each morning and retire for the evening. Chattering away and the "boss" of all the watering areas, except for the egrets. They cannnot get them to budge, much to their chagrin.)
“That was a great bowl of soup.” Those were the final words my father-in-law, Jim, uttered, as he sat in a cozy armchair and took his last breath. My mom was absolutely astounded that someone could have such luck in how they shed their earth suit. She hoped with all her might that some of his good fortune in thoroughly enjoying a hearty bowl of soup might become her reality as well?
Mom felt as if her mother had really struggled in the last few months she lived earth side and I’ve witnessed a wide swath of this both personally and in my hospital chaplaincy. Just as no two births are alike such is the same with our deaths.
I was an eyewitness to this in nature today and it was a painful one. Myna birds are in abundance on our island and we’ve had a bumper crop of babies. Today I gazed out my kitchen window and observed one looking pretty puffy on the edge of our rooftop. Next, I spotted it on the edge of the grass on our walkway. I could see a steady breath and it moved a little, yet did not feel long in this world. I kept my distance waiting to see if I would spot her mom and dad as they are very attentive to their young. Finally, a parent flew in, nuzzled the little struggling one who flapped her wings making eye contact. It was a recognition, I hoped maybe the parent would stay as surely they might know what to do? It did know that this little one was not going to survive, thus leaving its side. I stood vigil from my kitchen window, until I was certain it had taken its last breath. I fetched it and placed it in a soft, burial place under a pepper tree. Always, similar words are uttered, that its life was important no matter how long or short. What has remained with me, is that this little one really hung on. She did not go swiftly and it was painful to watch, yet what do I truly know of such things? It took what it did and I was powerless to change the outcome.
More than once she flapped her wings before her final breath and it made me feel as if her little soul was taking flight. Garnering enough strength to do what offered her a sense of freedom and flight. This has stayed with me and I look at the other mynas and wonder who were her parents and what is felt by them? They knew instinctively that nothing could be done, yet the human part of me wanted for them to remain by her side and perhaps they did from a nearby tree? Not all of us desire for our last breath to be shared with another, and could this be true in the animal world as well?
Often patients waited in the hospital for the family members holding vigil to step out of the room to get a cup of coffee or run home to take a shower. Countless times this might be precisely when their loved one took their last breath. Such disbelief and a feeling of being cheated was expressed to not have been with their loved one. Yet when it was shared that perhaps this was exactly the way their person desired to go, a sense of calm washed over many of them.
Perhaps little myna bird, this was your wish as well? You were not alone. I stood merely a few feet away at my kitchen window and witnessed quietly. Perhaps you had an entire choir of songbirds enfolding you? I like to imagine this. Such is the forever mystery of birth and death. Each living being matters, no matter how long or short their life. You most certainly did to me, and our acquaintance was short, yet oh, so meaningful.
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