Sat on the porch today pondering and watching the finches. There is an invasion of them in the yard, on the feeders and on the ground under the feeders. Just a few cardinals. I wonder if the hawk is hiding somewhere nearby. The birds are skittish and fly away frequently. Tried to count the American goldfinches but quit when I got up to 30. Was going to brag about the number to oldest brother. One of the finches had gotten his spring coat of feathers but they were mustard colored instead of yellow. For some reason he made me think of an old Southern colonel. Oldest brother and his friend came over and we sat in the swings and talked. He showed me a photo of a bird feeder tray he had made. The feeder was lined with finches down each side like soldiers in a mess hall. Said he was going to make another one this afternoon. We love our birds.

Have thought of a thousand different things today while enjoying the swing in the mild temperatures. The sun came out for a little while then the clouds took over the blue sky. Hope Mother Nature is kind with her storms tonight. The tornadoes have caused enough heartbreak in Alabama. I’ve tried not to write of heartbreak too much but it’s part of my life so bear with me or quit reading and come back tomorrow. Smile!

February is half way over and March is right behind. The month of March brings lots of memories. Rosalyn died March 17, Chief’s 88th birthday is March 29, our 42 anniversary is March 28, and my birthday is April 1. Forty two years was not long enough for me and Chief. I bet we could have made it to 50 years if the evil Covid had not taken him. We had so many conversations about how dangerous Covid was and we were actually shocked when Chief, Stew, and I tested positive. We also talked about our living wills and the no resuscitation orders. He always would say, “Don’t let them intubate me, please. And don’t take me to the hospital. Let me die at home.” I always felt and thought the same way, too. My mother was born here in this house and drew her last breath sitting in her chair here. Daddy died here, too.

The death of a child, no matter the circumstances, no matter their age, is a complete nightmare, a profound sadness. Life tells us we are not supposed to bury our children. They are supposed to bury us. Such a sad time for a family when a child dies. Not only do you grieve for your loved one but grieve for the dreams of the child’s life that are taken, also. I always think of Rosie and the children she would have had when I see all my families’ children frolicking during our family celebrations. I always see blond curls, bright blue eyes, and chubby little legs. I know they would be beautiful and running around whistling. She learned to whistle early as a toddler. It’s been 21 years since Rosie died and her death is still the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep at night and my first thought when I wake. Chief is tied to those thoughts now, too. I always tell God to tell them I love them and miss them in my nighttime prayers.

The death of a spouse brings on a storm of grief, too. Life also tells us we can’t live forever so one of us will be left to pick up the shattered pieces of a life for two and try to put those pieces back together for a life for one. My father died a few weeks before I moved to Alexander City to work with Chief at The Russell Record. I had lived here with mama and daddy, the year following my college graduation, continuing my work with The Roanoke Leader. I told my mother I would turn the job down and stay here with her but she insisted I go ahead with my plans. She internalized her grief. Daddy died of a heart attack at the dinner table on a Sunday night. I never saw my mother cry till we came home from Daddy’s funeral and she wept in the kitchen in the arms of my oldest brother. As I write this I can hear her heartbreaking tears. I never saw her cry again but I know she loved daddy. I’m not so stoic. I’m still crying two years later. I loved Chief and I know he loved me and I miss him more every day. A friend told me once he hoped Chief was the first to go because he didn’t think Chief could go on without me. Is that a compliment? I don’t know.

I just continue to still be shocked at how the death of a spouse changes every aspect of your daily life. If I wrote down all the things that have changed for me it would fill this column. I’m still trying to feel my way down this new path my life has taken. It’s getting easier. I’m not stumbling as much but I wish he was walking with me, holding my hand.