Something Like a Bird

Nine years of love, loss, and signs from Avellina

Michael, Carolina, and I standing at the bench.

This past week marked 9 years since we lost our daughter, Avellina. As we do every year, we visited the bench we have for her in a garden in the West Village. We left flowers behind, and I read the letter I’d written to her from my journal aloud to Michael and Carolina.

Carolina holding flowers on our way to St. Luke’s in the Fields Garden.

We named her Avellina after the province in Italy where my father-in-law is from: Avellino. Avellino also means, little bird. When we were with her for the few short hours she was alive, Michael played music, and the song we associate with her is Bird Song from the Grateful Dead.

All I know is something like a bird within her sang
All I know she sang a little while and then flew on
Tell me all that you know
I’ll show you
Snow and rain

If you hear that same sweet song again, will you know why?
Anyone who sings a tune so sweet is passing by
Laugh in the sunshine
Sing, cry in the dark
Fly through the night

After decorating the bench, we walked around the garden. I was surprised to see so many references to birds. References, I’m sure, have been there since we dedicated this bench nearly 10 years ago, but ones I’ve never noticed before.

“Perhaps a singing bird will come”

A nearby bench with a plaque that reads, “Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come.”

A birdhouse in the garden.

A weathered birdhouse affixed to a tree in the back corner of the garden. It looks like it’s been there for a long time.

A bench plaque for Richard Bentley.

A plaque for a man who “Loved the gardens and the birds that visited him.

Pigeons in the garden.

A pigeon. I shot this photo and later realized there’s a little rainbow in the ray of light.

A sculpture honoring Gene A. Morin, a West Village redisdent who passed away in October 2006.

A sculpture of birds honoring a West Village resident.

Bench plaque for Virginia Hardman

And lastly, a bench plaque that reads:

“Let me grow stalwart old

Like and elm

In whose green-leaved crest

Song birds nest”

Flower on Avellina’s bench.

I’m taking these references as a sign from Avellina that she’s with us, saying hello, and letting us know that she’s right where she’s supposed to be. The physical part of her is buried under the flowers (yes, we scattered some of her ashes by the bench), and part of her surrounds us everywhere we go.

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Words of the Week

"What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us." —Helen Keller

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Photo of the Week

Carolina and I have a silly habit of sticking googly eyes to things that look like faces. Recently, we added these eyes to a standpipe in our neighborhood. We hope it gave passers-by some smiles!