Thank you, birds,
for singing on and on as my wife lay dying in her hospice bed. Your songs fixed me in the moment, made me look rather than look away when her breathing became so labored her body rocked like a broken machine. Your cheery conversations seemed so inappropriate at first, but then I realized you were cheering her on. “Go, Kitty, go”, you were saying, as the energy that once busied her fingers and hoisted her smile escaped from her body to power the universe in new ways. Thank you, birds, for revealing the truth about death: that it is merely a rumor spread by those who have yet to glimpse eternity. John Ptacek
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