The Friend

“Ever since he died, I keep seeing white birds,” Linda spoke, long staring across the lake. The sound of the water splashed against the hulls of the boats next to the ancient wooden dock.

Her friend sighed inwardly. What do I say?

“What do you think it means?” Her friend deflected, not wanting to express her true thoughts to Linda in her grief.

“I don’t know, probably nothing. But they say the dead leave messages for the ones they love who are still here. Things like white feathers, coins, other things, I guess.” Linda began picking at the rot in a wooden plank, flicking the bits into the water.

Her friend watched the bits bob up and down like little corks, imagining them as minuscule ships on a stormy sea. A small, curious bluegill darted from under the dock to sample the offering, sucking in the bits with a “pop!”. The disappointed fish spit out the now doomed flotilla and the friend watched the bits disappear into the murky pool. It was too easy to allow her brain to become sidetracked to avoid Linda’s pain.

“Well, white feathers come from white birds,” was all she could think to say. But they’re not messages, the friend kept to herself.

“I mean, have you ever seen white pelicans here? Here? At this lake? I saw a flock, group, whatever a group of pelicans is called, yesterday. I posted it online, did you see it?”

“Yeah, I did. It was a great photo.”

“But have you ever seen white pelicans here before? I wish you had seen them,” Linda said. Her friend could hear the frustration in her voice. She wanted nothing more than to validate Linda’s belief that Jeremy was trying to tell her he was ok on the “other side” but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“A flock of pelicans is called a brief.”

“What?” Linda asked.

“It’s called a brief. For pelicans, that is. Like a murder of crows or a parliament of owls.”

“Oh. Ok. You mean like the movie?” Linda asked.

“Yeah or the book.”

“Yeah, right. It was a book too. I’d forgotten. You always did like to show off how smart you are.”

Linda’s dig stung a bit, but her friend buried it.

It wouldn’t hurt if it wasn’t true, she thought.

They had been best friends since High School and the loss of Linda’s son was the most heartbreaking thing she had ever been through. She thought Linda needed to get away and so she had invited her here to her family’s cabin. The placidness of the lake in the quiet of the mountains, the sharp smell of pine through cool thin air. It was the place where she found peace, but maybe it wasn’t for Linda. Her friend felt helpless that Linda might not ever find peace again, but she was determined to try to help her in whatever small way she could.

“You said you keep seeing white birds? Like, what others?” The friend prompted.

“I saw an egret the other day behind my house. I never see egrets there. I saw an albino seagull a few weeks ago, when I stayed at parents.”

“I see.”

“You don’t believe me,” Linda stated.

“I believe you saw those birds, white birds.”

Linda turned her head to stare at her friend, “But you don’t think they were signs from Jeremy. You were always the unbeliever, the atheist.”

“I’m sorry, Linda. I’m not good at pretending I believe in something I don’t. I want more than anything to tell you Jeremy’s ok. That he’s watching you from heaven and that he’ll be there for you when you die, but I love and respect you too much to lie to you. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well…” Linda uncrossed her legs and stood up shakily as they had been sitting on the hard planks for over an hour. “I think I should go. It’s getting late and I want to sleep in my own bed.”

“Wait, I thought you were going to stay the weekend?” Her friend said, looking up at Linda.

“I think it’s best I go now.”

“Linda, I’m really sorry...”

“I just want to go home.”

“Please stay until tomorrow. The roads are really dark at night. You haven’t been sleeping well since…”

“I’ll be ok.” Linda cut her off. Linda slowly walked back to the small cabin, shoulders slumped and head low. Her right arm came up when she was a little ways from her friend. It came up to her face and her friend knew she was wiping away the endless tears. Worry and anxiety for Linda welled up in her friend.

Hey Linda, I’m sorry about yesterday. Did you get back ok? The friend texted.

Yeah, I’m fine, came the response.

You want to get together when I get back tomorrow?

No. I think I need some time to myself.

A stab of pain shocked through her heart. The friend took a deep breath, held it and released it slowly through pursed lips.

I wish I knew what to do. She just needs time, she thought.

Linda’s friend had no previous experience with loss and like most people, found it very uncomfortable to confront mortality head on, especially the loss of a child. It was a hard thing to do for the friend, to make the decision to step back from Linda, to give her her space. She knew she was very reserved but now the friend felt she was a failure in this relationship, trying too hard to show Linda she cared and felt her loss deeply. She had no children of her own yet she had been Aunty to Jeremy.

How do you help a friend who is destroyed when you have a broken heart yourself? The friend questioned.

The brilliant sunshine almost blinded Linda’s friend as she shuffled into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Traffic had been really bad last night and she hadn’t gotten home ’til very late. Her eyes adjusting, she peered out to look on the city street below, something she always enjoyed doing. She liked how she could watch the people and the vehicles on the city streets move about and imagined little stories about their lives.

She heard a ding and she set her mug down on the kitchen table and went to pick up her phone. There was a text from Linda’s phone.

Linda died last night. This is Tom.

A wave of hot shock and nausea coursed through the friend’s core. The friend dialed Linda’s phone through her shaking hands. Trying to control her breathing, which had become hard, she waited for Linda’s husband to answer. Her call rolled over to voicemail.

Sorry, I can’t talk to anyone right now, the text explained.

What happened!?

They’re not sure. They’re going to do an autopsy and tox test.

She was doing drugs?

No, she wasn’t even drinking. She went to bed and didn’t wake up.

The friend dropped her phone, leaning heavily on the table and slowly sank to her knees and stayed there in stunned silence for a long time.

The friend sat in the Adirondack chair she had dragged out from the front porch of the cabin to the old dock. She had spent the afternoon sitting there, looking out across the water and at the forest edge, watching the circle of water ripples the fish made and the scrub jays screeching their calls to one another. She was still in shock over Linda’s unexpected death and her thoughts continually circled over the memories, good and bad, of their time together. Threaded through her thoughts was the mournful song, A Parliament of Owls. It complimented her sense of loss very well. She had heard it for the first time on her phone on the drive up to the cabin and had played it over and over again until it became stuck in her head. She now knew how someone could die of a broken heart like Linda, and wondered if that’s how she would die as well.

The sun had set hours ago and still she sat, cold and shivering, but not wanting to move. This place had always brought her peace until now. There was no moon this night and it had become very dark and still. The lake was a mirror to the night sky. The friend stood up and walked to the shore, bringing her toes to the very edge of the water. She looked up at the stars for a moment, then turned her gaze down. The vision of the stars reflected in the perfectly smooth lake made her feel a bit disoriented, like she was looking down on creation from far above. For a moment, the grief receded and the warm glow of love for Linda replaced it.

The friend felt a breeze brush her face and a white feather landed at her feet. Puzzled, as the lake water remained undisturbed, she looked up and gasped. Close, overhead, a white owl silently beat its powerful wings as it flew toward the cabin. The friend, turning, fumbled for her light and began walking in the same direction.

“Crap, this thing is so hard to turn on!” The friend muttered to herself. Scanning the tree line around the cabin, she tried to spot where the owl had flown to. No longer seeing it, she looked down as she continued to struggle with the lamp until it came to life in a bright beam.

“Finally!”

The friend brought the light up, sweeping the trees to find the owl. As she brought the light to bear on the cabin’s rooftop, she gasped. There, she saw no less than twelve white owls. White barn owls, a kind the friend had never seen before.

“They must be from the same family.” She said to herself, in awe.

As one, the owls launched themselves silently into the night, their wingbeats synchronized and hypnotic. The friend stood there, watching the owls until they disappeared into the blackness of the forest.

A chill ran down her spine as the friend remembered her last conversation with Linda and a hope began to grow. And then she knew. The song and the owls; it had to be Linda. She looked up at the sky again and whispered “I miss you.” She began to cry, but unlike the tears before, there was a smile at the feeling of a closeness with Linda that she had never felt before. And finally, she felt at peace.