I have been feeling blessed by the spectacular weather we have had this fall – not sure I could have handled my grief and grey skies at the same time. The weather has also allowed us to delay closing up our cottage. Shutting that breaker off for the last time seems to be ripe with symbolism – the end of the season, the recognition that life is moving on, the acceptance that our boy really isn’t coming home again. But the weather man is predicting temperatures to dip below zero next week, so the time has come. I couldn’t face it, but luckily Lucas was craving one last soak in the hot tub (and a quiet place to study for midterms) so Greg has his son and his dog to help him through it.

Things have not been easy lately. There are so many pragmatic details that have to be dealt with in the aftermath of death, each resulting in another stab to the heart from “the sharp knife of a short life”. Like going down to the court house to apply for a letter of administration so we can wrap up his financial dealings. Filling out the form  was hard enough (name of deceased, date of death), but when the clerk asked us to raise our right hands and swear that the information on the form was true, I could hardly breathe. Yes ma’am, my son is dead.

I fled the house of grief last weekend to take refuge in a friend’s house in Kitsalano. She lost everything in the Calgary flood and has temporarily relocated to a beautiful heritage cottage three blocks from the ocean as she tries to figure out where life should take her next. I spent my first morning alone on the beach; my heart aching with grief and deeply regretting coming to a place that always seemed to draw Jordan. And then the strangest thing happened. A crow landed on the log beside me and proceeded to stare at me without moving for about 10 minutes. He then moved directly in front of me and continued our silent communication. At one point two other crows tried to chase him off and while they successfully moved him to the waters edge, he kept up his vigil. We spent almost 45 minutes together, that bird and I.

When I got back to the house, I looked up the meaning of crows and learned that the crow is a spirit animal associated with life’s mysteries and magic. The power of this bird as a totem and spirit guide is to provide insight and support intentions. Apparently if the crow has chosen to be your totem animal, it supports you in developing the power of sight, transformation and connection with life’s magic. Associated with justice, change, creativity, spiritual strength and balance, crows fly into your life carrying the energy of magic and healing. If the crow is your totem you will see things from a higher perspective, develop your will power and speak your truth more loudly.

If the last three months have taught me anything, it is to be open to each and every opportunity that offers to lighten the weight of our loss. So I decided to be open to the possibility that some higher force might be at work in my life. If nothing else, I will always look at crows with a little more fondness!

As we approach our first Thanksgiving without Jordan I find that there are still so many things to be thankful for. Like the many friends and family who have opened their homes and hearts to provide comfort, for Lucas whose journey through the strange land of Engineering keeps us connected and laughing with his detailed descriptions of his trials and tribulations with Trig. But most of all I am thankful for all the wonderful memories of Jordan that are slowly pushing their way through the sadness.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

“Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe  with you when she stands under my colours
Oh, and life ain’t always what you  think it ought to be, no
she ain’t even gray, but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life”   (If I Die Young. The Band Perry)