My father and mother were able to stay together in their home in Bonham, Texas until their failing health required constant care. At that point, in 2002, they entered a nursing home. Daddy passed away later that year. They had been married 67 years.
In the spring of 2003, on one of my visits to see Mother at the nursing home, I stopped first in Bonham to check on their house. As I walked toward the front door, I heard the most beautiful birdsong. I didn’t recognize the clear beautiful plaintive notes, and the song called me to investigate. I followed the sound across the front yard. I was looking up when I reached the side of the house. First, I looked up into the towering trees, but I could not see what birds were hiding there. Then, I looked down and was greeted with a breathtaking sight – literally. A few years earlier, Daddy planted Mother a row of rose bushes next to the house. This was their second rose garden. He planted the first one for her in the yard on Mt. Pleasant in Oak Cliff in the early 1950s. He and Mother occasionally joked that he never promised her a rose garden; but this one made two, and at that moment it was a solid blanket of roses.
I knew immediately that Daddy used the beautiful birdsong to call me to that side of the house so I would see their roses in full bloom. I’m sure I would not have noticed them, otherwise. He wanted me to let Mother know he was thinking of her. I cried as I cut her a dozen of Daddy’s long-stemmed roses. I put them in one of her vases and carried them to Mother about 40 miles away. Her blindness prevented her from seeing the beautiful bouquet, so when I walked into her room, I announced what I was carrying. She inhaled deeply, as I held them in front of her . “A gift from Daddy from your rose garden,” I whispered. She didn’t speak any more, but she answered clearly with a smile.
This is the beautiful song Daddy’s messenger sang to me that day – the White-throated Sparrow.
Mary Christina's Musings 