Jay-Bird

Today is the second memorial service for my dear nephew Jason, who passed away on Dec. 20 just 6 months before his 30th birthday. As a family, we were able to gather together last week to bid him farewell in our hometown. His mom (my sister) wanted to spread some of his ashes on our mom's grave. Those of us who could get there gathered at the grave site. It was a gray, wintry day. My sister-in-law, she is awesome, had arrived early and shoveled a path through the 6" or so of snow. My dear husband offered a simple prayer that spoke volumes about how we were all feeling in struggling to understand this loss. Then my sister, her daughter, and husband spread some of Jay-bird's ashes. We stood there in the quiet, all grieving in our hearts, tears welling in our eyes, or just running down our faces, not a sound. Not even a whisper in the trees. The gray sky hung low overhead. As we turned to walk away, my attention was drawn to the sky. A small sliver of sun somehow shone through that blanket of snow clouds. Just a small glimmer of our mom? A bit of a twinkle from Jay-bird? Or both?
A couple days later my niece posted a picture on her facebook page. She had been skiing in Wyoming that weekend. The picture on the front page caught her eye. It was a bright red cardinal sitting on a snowy branch. Her grandmother (my mom) had always loved birds, and especially cardinals. Then she read the caption. The picture was taken over 1500 miles from there in a small suburb of Cleveland... the suburb where we were bidding our farewells to Jay-bird.
I don't know what you call it, but I call that hope.