The Golden Owl

I’d gotten there as fast as I could. As soon as I received the call that they thought he might not make it through the next day, I dropped everything and headed immediately for the farm. My grandfather had always been like quiet magic. He had a way of calming everyone and everything around him. When I was a child, I could swear he calmed the wind with just his hands. It seemed he could revive a dying crop simply by placing his hands in the soil and reciting one of the Native American chants handed down by his grandfather, mixed with his quite magic was his ever-present and reassuring sense of knowingness about him.

I pulled in right as the sun was coming up. I could smell the mix of dew and sunlight on the tobacco fields down the way. The willow trees on the farm all seemed to sway somberly, as if paying homage to a great spirit in passing. “He’s been waiting for you,” my cousin spoke as I walked through the door. We had all known this day was coming, and thankfully, we were able to spend as much time with him as possible in his final days.

I looked across the room and saw my Grandfather laying there on a regal mound of pillows. The morning sun showering his weathered face with warmth and care as he managed to open his eyes. He signed for me with his hands. My grandfather had lost his tongue in World War 2 and was able to vocalize very little, so he used sign language and his eyes to communicate mostly. “Tallchief”, he faintly signed. That was his nickname for me since I was a little child. I was taller than all my other relatives, but also, I loved to dance with the land, and this reminded him of a friend he once knew that went on to become a world-renowned ballerina, Maria Tallchief.

As I walked over to his bedside, I could hear his breathing was heavy and his attachment to this world was fading. My grandfather and I had a special connection as if we were woven from parts of the same spiritual fabric. In his time alone, my grandfather would write the stories of his ancestors, their thoughts and his opinions, and views on this world and the worlds to come. We would often sit for hours in my childhood, and I would read his scrolls and regale in his writings.

I knelt beside him and embraced him with all my love. I wanted him to stay with us forever. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to him. Tears began to stream down my face. My Grandfather pulled me back and tried his best to say, “don’t cry, new beginning”, as he tried to push the corners of my mouth into a smile.

A slight breeze came in through the window, rustling the chimes as if to say the time for his departure was drawing near. I told my grandfather how much I loved him and how thankful I was to have him in my life for so long. I thanked him for all the wonders he had shown me, big and small, in our times together. He was always reminding us of the small miracles in our day to days. He would always sign “walking miracle”, anytime any one of us thought we were facing an insurmountable situation, to remind us all things are possible when we believe in ourselves. He was a Good Man. I thanked him for teaching me how to appreciate life, and how not to get so caught up in the hustle and bustle that so often distracts us from the important things in life until it’s too late. I thanked him for all of the years of reading his stories and being granted access to his writings. His writings and outlook on life, the quiet moments we had, all gave me such a wonderful foundation for building the beautiful life I now have. Words could never say how thankful I was to him for his love and kindness.

He took my hands and placed them over my heart and signed “I will be here now”, and I heard his breath slow even more. He struggled to hand me one of his scrolls. This was normally a sign he wished me to read one of his writings, so I did. I open the scroll, and the aged paper slid through my hands like ancient ribbon. He closed his eyes, and I read for him.

"Our ancestors live in the past to remind us of where we have been, and to help us focus on where we are to be, but there is no end, only new beginnings. Every spirit, man, and animal are all connected by the Great Spirit. This energy runs through everything. It is never-ending. Even though we may appear to leave this world in a moment of death, it is only a change of music in the dance of creation. We are guided in our lives by all that is: nature, spirit, animals, the elements. All things are conspiring for our enlightenment and joy on this planet. One day, I will pass on and leave behind my memories, but I will not be gone. I will be in your past to remind you of where you have been and in your future to help you focus on where you are to be. I will always be with you as I always have been. Our ancestors often say look for the Golden Owl, when a loved one passes. gold is the color of life, and owls are guardians of spirit. This is the surest sign that a watchful spirit is to remain over you all your days. As the feather of the Golden Owl holds notes of spirits, each feather has a memory or vision to guide you in this life and the ones that come after this. This life is meant to be lived in harmony and joy. Waste no time of concern or sadness worrying about the next. Loved ones will come and go in this life, please do not cry when they are gone. Instead, celebrate with immense joy that they were in your life and carry their memories with you in your days that remain. I have requested our ancestors to send a beloved Golden Owl to watch over you my family, to remind you we will always be together. You are my tribe of Walking Miracles, and my Love will always be with, for, and upon you. I will go to Love.”

As I finished the last words, I grabbed my cousin’s hand, she grabbed her mother's, and everyone present formed a circle of love around my Grandfather as we sang one of his favorite prayers. My grandfather opened his eyes one final time, then he took his final breath.

Instantly, the house felt differently. The magic that once was my Grandfather seemed to be gone. I tried my best to hold back the tears and focus on all the joyous times I had with him, as I know this would be how he would prefer it. My Aunt called the funeral home to arrange for his body to be picked up, and we all waited outside.

Most of the day was spent in a state of disbelief, that we would no longer be able to just stop over at my Grandfather's farm and sit for a spell or do a bit of fly fishing on the fly or stopover to see what the latest fruits of the garden were. Our oasis from the world was forever changed. Our champion had gone on to a new dwelling. We all remained, but everything was changed.

I sat by myself to watch the sunset at my and Grandfather's favorite spot, a mossy little peak that overlooked the Willow trees and the garden, next to the gentle creek below. The spot was where Grandfather had shared all his scrolls with me, taught me survival skills of life, shown me an appreciation for the wilderness and its creatures, mapped out the stars and their origins, and where he had shared his world of magic with me. I still felt Grandfather around me but differently. Even though I had never heard his voice, I could almost hear it now, laughing at me telling me everything would be Ok.

As evening came, I turned back to go to the house. It's traditional to have dinner together when a loved one has passed, so back to the house I went to see if any help was needed. As I walked upon the hill to the farm, I could see everyone standing on the outside, frozen, as if some spell had been cast over them. All eyes were fixated towards the end of the deck, everyone gazed at the Cedar tree my Grandfather loved so much.

As I got closer, no one made a move, and my cousin motioned for me to be quiet. As I was about to ask her what was going on, I saw it. In the middle of the tree on its biggest branch sat a majestic Golden Barn Owl. I had never seen a Golden Owl before, nor had I heard of anyone else seeing one in all my years on that farm. Its eyes were blue as the ocean, its feathers showed like sun gold in the dusk sunlight. It looked like a creature of magic perched upon that branch. No one spoke a word as we all just stood in silence. We felt my Grandfather’s energy, the energy we had felt leave when his last breath was taken. We all felt it now.

Each of us stood there, looking on in awe. It was as if we were all getting a glimpse into the realm of spirit. My mother took my hand and drew me in close. “See, Grandfather told you he would send you a Golden Owl. He is still with us,” she whispered. The Golden Owl stayed there all night, until morning, watching us celebrate the life of our beloved Alo: a brother, a husband, a father, a Grandfather, a teacher. The Golden Owl steadfastly watched as we all told stories of my Grandfather. As we shared the love he had shared with us and celebrated his spirit and his teachings, the Golden Owl remained a fixture of reassurance that Love was with us, as it always had been, and as a reminder that it always would be with us, just as Grandfather has promised.