No Rest for the Messengers
I guess I should never take the owls too lightly.
The day after I posted my piece on the owls as Messengers, my father-in-law was hospitalized. Before the week was over, he had passed.
My father-in-law’s passing was not entirely unforeseen; he had been in declining health for a bit, and yet while the passing of a loved one is never easy, when the final moment came, he was in a peaceful situation - one I could only dream of having when my time comes.
My 78 year old father-in-law had five wives, seven children, 11 grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren. He had five biological daughters but also a few other “adopted” daughters as well.
When I last saw him, it was by chance just after he had moved on. I had walked back to his room in the ICU and as I approached the entrance, I saw eight of his daughters and granddaughters gathered around him, clearly grieving but also peaceful and calm. It was a scene of absolute beauty and love.
Shortly after my father-in-law’s passing, I posted a note here. In our tradition, the spirits of the deceased are granted four full days to linger and interact with their friends and family, but then they are to be reminded to move on to the ancestors in the land beyond the rising sun lest they get lost. The command should be given by an elder of the tribe, but their are few left who remember and practice that tradition, so I threw out the statement here for purposes of respect and protocol.
In addition to the passing of my father-in-law, my 36 year old sister-in-law was recently diagnosed with leukemia. Over the last couple years, she’s also had to fight diabetes, infections, kidney failure, cancer in her uterus, and brain surgery to clean and clear a brain bleed. She’s tired and decided not to fight the leukemia.
On the evening of the day following the fourth full day of my father-in-law’s passing, the family gathered at the house of my wife’s aunt (also an old friend of mine as we have dealt with various tribal political situations together over the years) who happens to be the closest thing to a medicine woman we have left in our part of O’odham Jeved. As the sun was just about to set, my wife’s aunt gathered everyone and said a blessing for her niece then, unrequested yet unsurprisingly, she also said a blessing for my father-in-law and asked him to start his safe, purposeful, and loving journey to the ancestors.
Everything happens as it should.
When we got home after visiting my wife’s aunt, my son yelled, “an owl!” We both saw one float down from above us unto the branch of a tree branch. There was no sound, no hooting - just the silhouette of him in front of the very last light of that day.
Today we begin the final commitment of my father-in-law’s earthly remains, and the signs continue.
Last night, just before dinner, my son, again, as he was about to sit to eat, stopped in his tracks and said, once again - this time quietly, “an owl.” Behind my wife, not more than 20 feet away, sat an owl, fully unobstructed in view, in one of our orange trees. His body was facing east, but as owls do, he had his head turned 180 degrees around and was looking at us. The sun was going down, and his yellow eyes were illuminated. He blinked, turned his head nearly 360 degrees clockwise, looked at us, blinked again, then turned his head forward and flew off to the east - toward the home of the Sun and the Land Before the Sunrise.