When my father passed away nine years ago, my aunt shared with me that she always thought of him when she heard the song “Blackbird” by The Beatles.
I do, too.
It’s uncanny how I might be feeling sad because he’s not here anymore and go for a walk, only to see a flock of blackbirds flying overhead. Or the song will randomly play on the radio. Or a blackbird will perch itself on our birdfeeder and lock eyes with mine for a millisecond before flying away.
I once had someone tell me that the loved one they had lost is in heaven “making all of these great things happen for me.”
I respectfully smiled and chose not to share the truth at that particular moment because loss is so personal. So hard.
But the truth is that our loved ones don’t make that stuff happen.
No one has the power to become God-like, even in death.
However, God knows the desires of our hearts and He understands when we just need a little extra comfort in knowing that it’s OK. That they are where they should be. That you will see that loved one soon.
Shortly after Dad’s death, I found myself sitting at my computer desk on a cloudy, Indiana winter day. Something reminded me of Dad and I began to feel guilty for not spending his last Christmas with him or that I didn’t call him enough or that I sometimes got frustrated with him.
The radio played in the background and just as I brought my hands to my face to wipe away the tears, Paul Simon’s song “Father and Daughter” began to play. At the part in which Paul sings “There could never be a father who loves his daughter more than I love you”, one single beam of sunlight broke through the clouds and beamed through the window, enveloping my face. I was completely illuminated by one small ray of sunshine.
And while I know that Dad didn’t make that happen, I know that God did. And He was telling me that Dad’s OK now.
His broken wings have learned to fly and after all, he was only waiting for this moment to arise.
Happy Birthday, Dad. You are so very missed.