The owl that gave her life

She was absolutely majestic. Her outstretched wings reminded one of the freedom of the wide open spaces and the joy of being free to live, love and breathe this precious life of unlimited unrestraint and happiness when we just let go and fly.

Salix would visit every night, whenever we decided to sit under the trees on many beautiful moonlit nights, and savor the fresh country air. She always somehow knew exactly when we were out and about. Maybe she came by every night to enquire if we were of the mind to be outside, I am guessing she did, and was very disappointed whenever we decided to stay in.

Her amazing wings would flutter in glorious graceful movements and come to rest on the same branch of the white willow tree. It was a lovely tall tree, with branches stretching and reaching towards the sky, its unusual leaves always waving as if in supplication to an unknown and unseen sky god.

We named her Salix, from the genus of the tree that she chose to be her temporary respite from family life. Most nights she came alone, but when she felt like having company she would bring her partner or the two children, whom we named Osier, father, following the tree tradition, and the two children were Willow and Sealh.

The strange thing about this owl, was that she appeared, for the first time on the night preceding that fateful day that my younger sister first knew for sure that she was ill. Did Salix somehow know that her first visit was a presage to a very heartbreaking occasion, that she was a portent or omen that arrived at a very momentous and timely moonlit night, or maybe she was just sent here to assuage and allay our pain.

Her first visit was very brief. She swooped down magically out of nowhere, sat on the willow branch, yelled, 'whoo!', scaring us a little, then she spread her wings and flew away.

Petal, my sister, named for the fact that she arrived in this world with little fingers and toes folded so tightly, and yelling so loudly, that she literally had to be unfolded like a flower petal. She had been feeling ill for a while, and on that first owl sighting we were awaiting her results from our family doctor. Petal was fifteen years old.

The next day we got the unwelcome news. She was incurably ill, it matters not from what a person is ailing when you hear the word incurable, nothing can be done. The illness had emerged too late for any cure to be administered. One minute she was a healthy teenager, enjoying her youth, and the next moment her life was practically over. She has one year or less to live was the final diagnosis.

Being the inexorable optimist, Petal was not daunted, she resolved to live each day to its fullest and not worry about the unfortunate consequences. "I cannot stop life from doing what it needs to do", she would smilingly say. So, she went about the business of life as if nothing had changed. Petal was the same fun loving, take no excuses from anyone young person that she had always been. She was very wise for her age. I called her the 'old lady' of the bunch of us, of which there were seven, some older, some younger.

Petal refused pills, she refused bedrest, she refused anything that would render her an invalid. Our parents fretted, mother cried, but father said let her be. She wanted to live life on her own terms, Petal was a stubborn, independent flower, always tightening her fist at any thing that threatened her style, no one would or could make her courage wane in the face of any adversity.

The chair by the pond close to the willow tree was Petal's favorite spot. By day, as long as the weather permitted, and after school, she would take her pillow and lie in the sunshine until there was no more warmth. She went out with friends and did all the fun things as if every day would always be preceded by another perfect day.

On those nights when we sat outside with her, Salix was always there, by herself or with her family. Sometimes it was just Petal out there, both keeping each other company. The highlight of her day was to see that owl in the moonlight. We did not know where Salix came from or where she went. She just appeared when she wanted and then disappeared after we said goodnight.

The mere existence of the night owl was an elixir, a balm to the healing process of this young girl. We did not know whether or not it was the normal activity of an owl to visit the same spot every night and hang out with the same family for years. For she came to us for four seemingly short years for us, but presumably long years for the heart shaped kindly bird and her family.

Petal defied the odds and lived for three years seemingly strong and healthy. Her fourth and final year saw her getting weaker. Her appetite waned, she started to lose weight and needed to rest at home more and more. She spent the days lying on the bench in the sunshine as long as there was sun shining in the sky. She was waiting for her owl she would say.

There were nights when she was just too weak to go outside. We were sure that we heard the "whoo' of her friend outside, reminding her that she was not alone in the bird friend world. Some nights we had to carry her out for a short visit when her smile was getting weaker, and her eyes would only open for the sight of her owl.

Four years to the first sighting of Salix, Petal returned home, smiling a weak smile at the owl. This was the only time that Salix had ever passed by her window, it was open and the bird silently swooped down and perched on the window sill, called a quiet 'whoo', looked in for a few moments then quietly flew away.

Petal took one last gentle breath and let go of life. Her silent grace, steely determination and strong resolve to not let herself be beaten by anything, had kept her going for four years when the odds were against her living for one single year. The night owl was a panacea to her will to keep strong and strive for excellence in every day that she triumphed, and she won every day one day at a time.

Salix came by every night leading up to Petal's final rest day. We were always out there to keep her company. She came back on the night after Petal was off to her new life. Salix always came by herself these past days, as if to savor her last moments in quiet and peaceful solace.

That night was the last time that we ever saw Salix or her family. She looked at us, gave a sad but hopeful 'whoo whoo', the only double 'whoo' that we ever got, raised her graceful wings and soared into the night sky.

She had come to bid us one last goodbye.

We were confident that wherever Petal was, there would Salix be also. So, we had no need to be sad, our sister and her owl were together and would forever be each other's company.

We were content in the knowledge of hope and closure to a young life, short, but well lived.

N.A.