How a hummingbird saved my life
Once upon a time, A told me about this hummingbird that hung around his shop. He mentioned how he heard its song frequently when he was working. He was a bird fan, anyway, but had a particular love for hummingbirds. To A, all hummingbirds had the same name, and I picked it up from him. Prior to meeting him, I had never seen a hummingbird in the wild before, though I’d heard they’re common here. I had only seen them at the zoo; we’ve got one with a hummingbird aviary here.
But sometime thereafter, I heard a birdsong I didn’t recognize, and followed it to the source, and found it was coming from a hummingbird. Thereafter, I heard them frequently, and saw them once in awhile. There was one that frequented my back yard, and I’d often see him at lunch time out the dining room window. It always made me think of A, and the two became connected in my mind. I would e-mail him after lunch and tell him of my latest hummingbird sighting, along with anything else newsworthy that may have transpired since we’d spoken an hour ago. I didn’t see them very often then; it was always a treat.
The weekend he died, I had put together a package with some music I’d copied for him, a magazine I thought he’d enjoy, and the usual perfumed card. The card this time had two hummingbirds on it. It was all set to go out into Monday’s mail.
Of course, by the time Monday arrived, my panic had grown, and I knew something was very, very wrong. (Even remembering that day as I type, right now, starts my stomach churning, as it did that weekend, and I can feel the panic rising right along with the tears. Never far out of reach, those feelings.) By Monday morning, I knew (rather than feared) that he was gone.
That same Monday morning, I was standing alone in the kitchen at work, a hummingbird came to the window and hovered there, seeming to peer in at me, for the longest time. I’d never seen one behave that way before and thought it was strange.
Not long after that, it happened again, and again I was alone in the kitchen at work. That summer I saw several out that window at work, always when I was alone. And it wasn’t just one hummingbird, despite their territorial natures. Sometimes it would be different ones. One day there was a pair together, which is unusual. Hummingbirds only come together to fight or fuck, and these two weren’t doing either. They were sitting on a branch near the window, looking in.
After the second time it happened, I remembered the card that was still sitting in the sealed envelope, right where I’d left it next to my desk. I couldn’t bear to touch the envelope. It wasn’t going out to A, and putting it away would mean admitting it never would. I hated seeing it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it. I told E about my envelope crisis, and he offered to put it away for me until I could deal with it myself; it took months before I was ready to take it out of the closet.
But the card…the card. The card with two hummingbirds on the front, the card he never saw. And yet, suddenly, I was getting these strange hummingbird visits at work. And at home I would see a hummingbird perched in the tree past my back wall, every morning. When a pattern began to form, I researched hummingbird symbology, and in many cultures they are seen as spirit messengers, uninhibited by the chains of linear time, as their wings move in the shape of an infinity symbol and they can go forward and backward at will. A would’ve known I would’ve googled it. And I knew they were from him. How could I go from seeing an occasional hummingbird in the neighborhood to seeing one or more every day. On really tough days, I would see as many as six. Though we hadn’t worked out any kind of code in advance, he picked something I would’ve associated with him and no other.
I started seeing them everywhere, nearly every day. They often flew in a manner to call attention to themselves, so (I thought) I’d be sure to see them, or they’d sing in the trees until I spotted them, and then they’d perch quietly. And when I didn’t see actual hummingbirds, I would see representations of them in places I’d least expect, or places I didn’t usually go—a loose card on the sidewalk where I took my walks, on the wall of a vet I’d never been to before, on mailbox flags, on doors and fences, and on random websites I’d pull up.
I mentioned these hummingbird visits, which I came to understand as “e-mail” from the next life, from A, to E, who was willing to humor me, at least, and he asked if I wanted to get a hummingbird feeder. I thought about it, and decided I didn’t want to. If I bribed the hummingbirds, how would I know if they were from A? If they kept coming, without any other enticement, then I’d know they were the messages I felt they were, that they were especially for me.
I was testing A. I was testing his love. I was testing myself, and my willingness to believe the unbelievable that felt like truth. And I needed it to be true. Needed it like air. I needed to know that he lived on, that he was out there, and that he still loved me, thought of me, cared for me, and could let me know, in his way. If I knew that, I could keep going. There were many, many days when the sighting of a tiny little bird was the only thing that kept me from complete despair.
And when, for one reason or another, the hummingbirds were scarce, I felt abandoned and worried that he’d left me once again. Then they’d come back, and I’d breathe a sigh of relief. I’d tell myself it was silly to live every day hanging on the appearance of a hummingbird, and I agreed with myself. Eventually, I got to the point where a missing hummingbird would not tank my mood completely, but still, seeing them always brightened my day. They were love notes from my sweetie, after all.
Hummingbirds do not like excessively hot weather, though, and that is what we’ve been having throughout June as we headed into the monsoon season, so they were scarce. They head north and to higher elevations to escape the heat, just as humans do. I went from seeing a hummingbird three times a day, and then not seeing a single one for days on end. I had asked A to let me know in a dream if he really was going to leave me to my own devices until I joined him wherever he is, rather than to just disappear on me, again. And then I had that strange dream, and wondered if this was it.
The days passed hummingbird-less, and I was trying to get used to the idea that this was going to be how it was, though I didn’t like it. One morning, I was out back with the dogs before work, and I was talking to A, as I’m wont to do when I’m alone (the dogs don’t think it’s strange; I talk to them, too.) I mentioned the dearth of hummingbirds, and my disappointment and worry about what that meant. I’d been pretty down overall, and this was just one more thing, and I could use a little help. And as I stood there, two hummingbirds whizzed past my head in tandem, so close that I could feel the wind from their wings against my cheek, and hear the whirr of their impossibly fast wings. Never had a hummingbird ever come that close to me.
I laughed, then, in shock and gratitude and a bit of disbelief that it had just happened; and I said “Well, all right then!” And the message I received was that he hears me, he was there, and always would be when I really needed him.
Somehow, that was a turning point for me. So forceful and undeniable was the response when I really, really needed him that I no longer felt the need to test him on the point. I was grateful when I saw a hummingbird, but I no longer was depressed if I didn’t. My faith that he is out there is steady now, and while I love the reminders, that faith does not crumble without constant reinforcement. That’s a change for the good.
So it was that I decided out of the blue the other day that I was ready to put up a hummingbird feeder. I can never quantify the hope and encouragement these little birds have given me as A’s proxies, and I felt like I owed it to them to give them something back. I researched it, ordered it, and it has been hanging off my back patio roof for 2 days now. I had a hummingbird at it within 15 minutes of it being up, and have seen three different birds enjoying snacks on and off since I put it up. I am delighted to see them. And despite the “bribe,” I still feel like they’re from A, as they’re the same ones that were hanging around my yard before I put the feeder up.
2 years minus 9 days, and this is where I am. It’s just a hummingbird feeder, but there’s really no “just” about it; this is kind of a big deal for me. All progress on this journey should be celebrated, I think.