It’s been two days since we lost Nanook and I’m still in that ‘curl up in bed and do nothing, everything is awful, I teared up walking past the dog toy section at work’ stage of grieving.
But I’m taking comfort in a weird thing.
Some people believe that robin redbreasts are symbols of visits from the dead, or ‘signs’ from lost loved ones, and I do, too. They’ve long been my favourite bird, and for the past few months, every time I’ve been worried or upset about something, there’s been a robin in my garden, and then everything’s turned out okay. It’s gotten to the point where if I see a robin, I know I’ll be fine.
Yesterday, I was getting ready for work and looking out of the window when a robin landed on the fence outside. We looked at each other for a good while, and all I could think was, “there you are! there’s my robin!” and I knew that I would, eventually, feel okay.
