Shadows of Death

It's Not All About the Bird

Ricky flew into our yard uninvited one day when my mom and I were swimming in our little above-ground pool. The beautiful azure markings caught our eye immediately in the bush just above the siding, and the song bursts seemed shared just for us. A parakeet in the middle of a Detroit neighborhood was not a common sight.

Mom and I had been creating a whirlpool by jogging around the perimeter, watching all the detritus collect in the middle of the funnel to make vacuuming easier. Mom was quiet, likely thinking . . .

If only the task were that simple in life—gather all the junk into one spot and let the suction tube make it all disappear.

The water then sparkled in the sunshine, the lining of the pool coincidentally matching our little visitor’s plumage.

The bird was obviously someone’s pet who had escaped his cage because he was friendly enough to land on mom’s finger and let her bring him into the house. In a short time, we set up a birdcage and purchased seed and toys. He made himself at home and remained our faithful pet for years.

Mom taught him to say, “Pretty Ricky. Pretty Rick.” “Hello.” “Good night. Sleep tight.”

Ricky liked his cage well enough—he happily slept in there at night when we put a little drape over top, but when we sat in the living room watching TV or eating a meal, Ricky was free to fly or land on our plate to check out our meal choices. He especially loved perching on the rim of a glass and helping himself to a drink. The bird loved his toys and played in the middle of the living room floor, entertaining anyone who happened to be present, and he happily rode on Mom’s shoulder as she did various chores around the house.

We never noticed Ricky aging, so one day when I arrived home from school and saw him lying on the floor of his cage with his claws stiffly curling up, I phoned my mom at work.

“Something’s wrong with Ricky! I think he’s dying.”

“No. No. No! Please, don’t let him die. Make him wait for me.” Mom said through choking sobs . . .

Right at her desk. Right in front of her boss and other coworkers at the insurance agency where she worked. She lost herself in those minutes. Fell apart. Told her boss she had to go home immediately. Embarrassment didn’t color her cheeks until she admitted that it was just her parakeet—not a family member in crisis, as it must have appeared to colleagues.

I had a hard time consoling mom that day, but eventually we did all the proper bird burial, pet funeral proceedings in our backyard. We put all the reminders of him away too. And mom got over it.

I didn’t know until a week or so later when I heard her on the phone with a friend that the day I called her at work to tell her Ricky was dying was the same day she was served divorce papers, also at work.

She had threatened divorce many times in my young life, so I always assumed that’s what she wanted. It was her idea.

I heard her tell that she held it together when the papers arrived and flippantly showed her colleagues.

“It’s finally official. Look what I got today,” she had said, fanning herself with the envelope. “We had a good run, but all things come to an end eventually.”

And then she had to face my call. It was the death that triggered something, but I don’t think the tears were all about the bird. She had put up a good front, but who doesn’t feel the loss when a thirty-year marriage is about to implode? People say it’s like a death. Something you carried around on your shoulders curling up and dropping off.

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Strangely, my parents went on a trip to Vegas together just after they started divorce proceedings. They came home holding hands and quietly dismissed their attorneys, not exactly in love again, but not quite ready to watch the crash.

This wouldn’t be the first time they brushed past a valley of the shadow of death.

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[My upcoming book illustrates the nuances of a complicated marriage & how sometimes a child arrives by surprise right in the middle of all the muck. While it is a personal story, it resonates with many who have experienced shaky foundations & walking “through the valley of the shadow of death.” I hope you stay tuned for publication.]