Kept walking to the turn-around and headed back. The hawk was still sitting there and willing to pose for photos until I took three steps off the trail toward it. Then it flew to another low branch, still close to the trail. Again we played photo op. Again I took three steps from the trail, and the hawk flew.
From its third perch the hawk waited patiently while I walked to the trail junction and followed a new trail. We played the three step game, and the hawk flew, but to a tree I couldn't reach. I had to let go of the connection, but the feeling lingered that this had been an OTHER experience. If you look between the tree limbs you can see the hawk flying away in the late afternoon sunshine.
Bothering both a hawk and a heron in one walk seemed significant. A great sense of awe accompanied by support and light filled me. I knew I needed to communicate with Dad in an honest, authentic way, to share that support and light.
I managed to tip a couple ounces of protein shake down Dad's throat only to provoke wrenching gurgles and rattles. "I know, Dad. I know." He stared deeply into my eyes, and I felt a locked-in connection beaming absolute love between us. "You don't have to be brave, Dad. I will do everything possible to make it not hurt." That is my solemn promise and responsibility.
© 2012 Nancy L. Ruder