When Eagles Die - Webs



When Eagles Die

I once heard, or maybe I read about, how eagles die. Perhaps I got it from the Discovery channel. Anyway, I found the story captivating although it reminded me of another lifetime quandary. How come you never see dead birds? The only dead bird I have ever seen was in the mouth of a cat, so I think that I know the cause of death and I have a pretty good idea of what happens next. What about the ones the ones that die of old age, or fly into a tree? How come I never find them dead, or at least flopping around on the ground as they expire? It seems to me also, that by now, I would have been nearly hit by a bird that came hurtling to the ground because it had a mid-flight heart attack. But that’s a whole separate question and I know that I have been accused of wondering about things that “normal” people don’t.

This is how eagles die.

They go to the edge of a cliff. They place themselves right at the rim of the precipice. They find a place where they can do this by facing directly into the sun. They place themselves in this exact situation and they dig their claws in. They stay there, facing into the sunlight, until they die, at which time they tumble down the cliff. If I have created for you the image that I have, this is an amazingly dignified act. I love the fact that they face the sun. The light rather than the darkness. They face it in the way of their own choosing.

I once saw an eagle die. She was my Mother.

It had all of the same components, and when I first learned about eagles, I immediately thought of her. Dignified and facing the light.

Cancer is an ugly thing. It devours you slowly. It takes all of you, out of you. It is difficult to do this in a dignified way, but she did.

I assume that there were times when she was afraid. It’s hard to know, given all of the things that she ingested at the end that numbed her as much as possible. I’m certain that these things affected her thinking in ways that I cannot know.

When my mother approached the time when she knew that she would be leaving me soon, she prepared me for her leaving. It was a simple act really that was richly profound and wise and brave. She gave me something that belonged to her. In this simple act she let me know that she wasn’t going to need it anymore.

My Mother always had a wonderful economy of words, which she clearly didn’t pass on to me. Once she settled a potentially volatile all-family dispute with 24 words.

In this moment, she told me that she was going away and that she was OK with it. It is immensely clear to me that this was entirely for my benefit. I am certain that she went through this process with everyone that she loved in the same selfless and incredibly personal way.

Although it was awful when she left, she had given me a way to deal with it. This doesn’t say that I don’t miss and sometimes mourn her. I do. I miss her right now. It speaks to the fact that she came to me in a way that was powerful and personal and helped me to face the imminent. She wasn’t damning her misfortune or her bad luck or her lousy genes. She was at the cliff. She sat in magnificent dignity and stared toward the light. She could have chosen to look at the darkness, but she didn’t. Because she chose the light for herself, she was choosing it for me.

Some time I’ll decide to write some things about the great life of an average woman. A woman who figured out a way to give me, her son, something that she never had for herself as a child. Security.

First, I need to get myself through this part.

Parents teach things in a variety of ways. My Mother didn’t teach by talking or by doing. She taught by being. By being the person that she had decided to be.

A wife and a Mother of extraordinary dignity.

And the heart of an Eagle.

As I write this, and I begin to be overcome with her goodness, I am aware of my motivation. I am trying to thank her.

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