Return of The Night Owl

It hit me like a tone of bricks, all at once. My old life was gone. The people I held dearest… Gone. The traditions… Gone. All the broken promises flashed before me. All of the regrets, immediate. The sinking feeling was just overwhelming.

When you lose someone, you’re faced with the harsh reality of every decision, every promise, and every regret you ever had with them. You are forced to reevaluate what you believed to be true, versus what was true. And the truth is, we all make mistakes.

As I made my way to the old barn, the sound of solid crunching snow beneath my winter boots and the shimmery stars above guiding my path forward —a series of thoughts flashed through my head. Almost as if I were having a conversation with myself.

“I knew the day would come when I would lose them. But I never expected so soon!”

“How could I lose two of them so suddenly together? One got me through the other. But who will get me through both?”

“How could I be so naive to think I’d have more time? We have to count each day as a blessing! I thought I already knew this?”

I questioned… And I answered… And I questioned some more. But the truth is, there were no questions. I already knew the answers. But I had failed to see the question when I had the opportunity to act. I thought I knew everything. But I knew nothing at all.

Losing both of my grandmothers, my only remaining grandparents, all within a month of each other, just devastated me. I knew my time would come when I would have to say goodbye, but I never expected so quickly, and so suddenly. But that’s the thing about time. It is fleeting. It is quick. It is sudden. We think we have all of the time in the world, but then the world becomes so small when we are faced with reality.

That’s the funny thing about time. You can’t reverse it. It keeps moving forward. Creating a future. Creating a life. Whether you play a role in it or not, it keeps going. But in order for your future to be set, it all takes place in the present. The present awareness of today.

Bright wintery nights had a way of making me question everything. The crisp January air seemed to awaken my mind, body, and spirit, as the stars made me question my significance. The old red barn illuminated through the fresh blanket of glistening white snow, bringing back every childhood memory that unlocked what I knew to be the truth; we only have today.

It had only been a few months since we said our final goodbyes. But it felt as if it were a lifetime and yet a minute, ago, all at the same time. How could that be?

Caught up in my own head, I stepped into our old red barn as the adult me and entered as the 12-year-old version that had a deep-rooted fear of being left all alone. How could they leave?

On the verge of tears, my face burning red, as my breath appeared before me in the cool winter air - I heard a noise. A little rattle came from the wooden beams in the old barns’ ceiling. And suddenly, I realized I was not alone…

A little “hoot-hoot” shouted from above. A part of my past shining in the darkness of the night. My old friend had returned. The old barn owl.

Every evening, when the stars beamed bright, I would make my way outside to ask life's biggest questions. It was then that I learned to appreciate the silence of the night. Waiting for a sign from above. Something. Anything. Over time and through the darkest of days. For they were always followed by the brightest of nights. My light at the end of the tunnel.

That light at the end of the tunnel was a friend. The old barn owl was both. Both my light and my friend.

Months ago, on a cold October night, a few weeks after my second grandmother had passed - I sat quietly below the stars, ashamed and guilt-ridden. Tormenting myself. Why I had waited so long in-between visits. How could I be so naive to take the people I love for granted? How could I be so stupid to think I have plenty of time? I thought I was protecting them? What did I protect them from? I missed out on moments I’ll never get back.

As tears trickled down my face, I gazed upon the stars, desperate for answers, and whispered, “Please, from above, send me a sign that everything will work out. Please show me that everything will be okay. I need to believe.”

And suddenly, without warning, a faint “hoooo-hooo,” bellowed from the trees. At first, I had no idea what I had heard, so I listened patiently and silently for a clue. Again, but louder, and closer, “hooot-hooot.” This time leaving me certain with what I had heard, a wise old owl. My question had been answered. My belief sealed.

For some things, we run into, and some things were just meant to be. My friend the barn owl represented my destiny.

It was from that moment on, I knew that life was only going to be as good as I made it. Life was every action, decision, and consequence I created. My thoughts were my belief. My destiny represented my belief, and my belief sealed my destiny.

The wise old barn owl taught me that life will continue on, even when fears limit reality. We are never alone in the pursuit of a greater purpose. It is our responsibility to continue on and ask ourselves for forgiveness. For we must learn to spread our wings and fly into the unknown!