Forces of Nature

My mother visits twice a day, at 11:11, since the day she died, 20 years ago. My father comes to me in the guise of a Hummingbird, at least once a day, if not more. There was a Hummingbird on the sign they put on his room the day we took him off life support, almost a year ago. I was already relating him to the Humming Birds who were fliting around my place in such numbers in his final weeks. When I asked the nurse why the Humming Bird sign was on his door she was quiet at first, as if deciding what to tell me. She chose honesty, for which I was grateful. “It’s to tell the staff not to resuscitate the patient.” She told me.

The symbolism was not lost on me. My father always loved Humming Birds and delighted when they nested in the tree outside his kitchen window. I remember his sadness when the wind blew one of the nest down and the momma lost her babies to the forces of nature. And how gently he picked up the nest and brought it inside to sit amongst the tea pots on the window sill.

He’s been with me in the guise of the Humming Bird this whole, strange year. He often comes when I’m gardening, or sitting on the deck, watching the world go by and staying safe on my island paradise, away from the tumult and terrors of this world. I’ve often wondered what our conversations would have been like these past few months and how hard it would have been to not be able to see him for so long. And then I remember that Covid isn’t what’s keeping us apart and that there will be no more conversations about the state of the union or the state of the garden.

I miss him. I miss his laugh, his wisdom and even his silences I tried to fill on long drives to hunt mushrooms. My daughters and I went last fall, after he died. One found a huge Cauliflower mushroom and the other hunted the biggest Chanterelle I’ve ever seen. He would have been so proud of them. We call it Grandpa’s Forest now, even though I was the one who brought him there. I’m happy to share the honours, in any case. We’ll go every year in memory of him and the last thing he gave me before he slipped away from me – the map he drew of his secret King Boletus spot. “One should never die with secrets”, he told me. Only he didn’t want to die, I know this. I think about it every day. He didn’t want to die. We were going to go mushrooming when he was better. He promised, but not a promise he could keep. Forces of Nature.

And so, every time I see a Humming Bird I wave and say, “Hi Dad.” And the girls say, “Hi Grandpa”. And we talk about the garden with him and show him what we’ve done.