The White Feather
Walking on Nantasket Beach in my hometown peninsula of Hull, Massachusetts, makes me think of my brother Jim. Jim lived in Hull for most of his childhood and all of his adult life. He was an ardent weather enthusiast and a respected member of the local weather community who frequently took photographs at the beach, some of which were published. Later this month is the anniversary of his unexpected death in 2001, and The Blue Hill Observatory, where Jim was a volunteer, will be hosting the 4th annual Jim Redman memorial picnic (part of the reason I’m in Hull right now). After his death, the Observatory erected a flag with an inscribed dedication in Jim’s memory.
My brother Jim’s life and death were intimately intertwined with my brother Dan’s, who died a month after Jim did. This is the time of year that my family and I relive our heartbreak, and I find myself remembering a certain white feather…
Below is an excerpt from “The Jim and Dan Stories,” the book I wrote about losing my brothers.
It was a perfect white feather that must have just fallen, but it seemed to have been placed in my path just for me. I was walking on the beach in Hull, the beach that Jimmy so often took storm photographs of, trying to gather my strength for his funeral and thinking of the eulogy I was to give. I found myself picking up that feather to save in my pocket and then later putting it with Jim’s body when I said my last goodbye. For me, it represented other-world, freedom, and purity.
Weeks later, we were facing the worst with Dan in the hospital, an unlikely place for a white feather to show up, but it did. Jeanne, my sister-in-law, pulled it out of her pocketbook (not knowing about the white feather I left with Jim’s body), saying her daughter had given it to her. We called ourselves “the three ministering Mary’s,” Jeanne, my sister Kathy, and myself, tending Danny at his death bed, the way Mary Magdalene, Mother Mary, and her cousin did for Jesus. That was when it occurred to me that death faced willingly, and especially after suffering, was a sort of sacrifice and generator of grace. And didn’t Danny say “I’m all right” the first chance he got when the breathing tubes came off, the way Jesus said “forgive them, Father,” comforting us when he was dying? continued...
We anointed him with “three Wise Men Oil” that my sister Kathy, an aroma-therapist, had brought. We placed the white feather on his pillow next to the pin of Mother Mary that an anonymous late night visitor had left there. ...When I find myself in times of trouble…Mother Mary comes to me…speaking words of wisdom…Let it be. The nurse removed the breathing tubes when Dan signaled he was ready, like taking Jesus down from the cross he was nailed to. After he died, I placed the feather safely in my journal to keep in remembrance of his passing, but later, when I went to retrieve it, it was gone.
Family friends arranged for a funeral reception at the Hull Yacht club, which was stone’s throw away from where the house we all grew up in used to be. My husband, Joe, took a picture of Jeanne, Kathy, and me at the bandstand gazebo on the lawn. On the way over to the bandstand Jeanne picked up a white feather and gave it to me.
“You better take good care of this one,” Joe said.
“No, this one can go where ever it wants to,” I answered.
After holding it awhile, I passed it back to Jeanne who wore it as an earring.
Weeks later, when that picture was developed, I was shocked to read above our heads in bold letter “DAN S MEMORIAL.” My Massachusetts sisters and mom drove down to the yacht club to take a second look. It actually said “DAN SHORT’S MEMORIAL BANDSTAND,” but in our picture some of the words were cut off.
Comments
I am sorry for your sadness, and I'm glad you can find places of perspective to view these events. You have a gift for seeing lifes synchronicities, seeing that this is a tapestry and not a series of disconnected events, and I hope that brings you comfort in times of need.
This is a beautifully written post, and I think you for it.
michele sent me...
Posted by: mw | July 9, 2005 11:16 AM
Hi, Michele sent me, though I've been before on my own and found your story very moving.
Do you know of the legend that angels leave feathers for people, in memory of their visits? Whenever I find a white feather, I wonder which of my angels was passing through.
Posted by: Silver Lining | July 9, 2005 5:22 PM
How beautiful and moving. I am so sorry for your sorrow, and yet, so gratified and heartened by the sense you have brought to your losses, and the courage and bravery you show..
Minerva
Michele sent me...
Posted by: Minerva | July 9, 2005 5:37 PM
Very poignant post. I lost my Dad this past November. Made me want to write about it. I thought I had said it all in his eulogy. Sorry for your loss.
Posted by: rdl678 | July 11, 2005 5:51 AM
I cut all my hair off again, Colleen. Today I found two four leaf clovers. And check out the poem I wrote on my livejournal.
Reliving death is always hard, but better, I hope, than not being with the memories.
I miss you.
~Mara
Posted by: Mara | July 11, 2005 3:36 PM
The lines above from the Beattle song 'Let it be' mention
'Mothe Mary'. Have listened to the song countless times and
always thought the 'Mother Mary' in the song was the mother of
Jesus. a few weeks ago while readying an article about the
beattles it was mentioned by Paul McCartney the reference in the
song was to his mother who was named Mary. which ever it was,
the song is among my best loved.
jfrancishill
flinttexas
Posted by: jfrancishill | January 8, 2008 3:34 PM
In 2005 2006 and 2007
June, November & April
My nephew, my sister, and my soul mate
Right after each one of them passed away I found a white feather and I have them placed in my curio under their picture..I truly believe they came from their angels and I will cherish them forever.
Posted by: elaine mcdonnell | January 21, 2008 12:28 AM
My twin sister died very suddely in Jan and when I was getting ready to fly down to arrange things i was in the bedroom when a white feather fell to my feet.when we where down in dorset
my son had just put on his jumber and sat down when a white feather came and settled on his arm. I feel this is my twin letting me know that she is fine.
Posted by: Enid | February 2, 2008 12:33 PM
Seems like the white feather is a universal message from loved ones beyond. Peace.
Posted by: colleen | February 2, 2008 4:13 PM
Having done lots of soul searching about my dad and why he left me like he did and never said he loved me - Having been taking therapy from an excellent intuititve healer - She advised on a book which I purchased and working through it - In that book i wrote a private letter to my dad to say why did he never say he loved me - and if he could please please please come back to et me know he does and know that he is happy with what I h doign for my mums care. Last night at the therapy session we were just chatting and laughing - then the therapist said your dad is with you - on my knee black trousers - so it was sure not there before I went in was a white feather. Last night I reflected on the letter I wrote and am so sure it was from him ???
xxx
Posted by: Linda Gray | March 1, 2008 4:41 AM
That's an amazing story about the white feather, Linda. Thank you for sharing it. Here is one about a black feather and my own father's death. http://www.looseleafnotes.com/notes/2006/06/the_black_feather.html And this is the link to the category archive on my blog, Losing a Loved One, where my writings on death are stored. http://www.looseleafnotes.com/notes/losing_a_loved_one/
Posted by: colleen | March 1, 2008 9:52 AM