For Little Babe and Little Hannah and for all your little ones too:

Dark
Night enfolds / entraps
tears for all the bright, beautiful things
that die.From: Southern Comfort -- The poetry of a Kiwi-bird.
Southern Comfort -- The poetry of a Kiwi-bird.
Author: kiwimac

As much as it breaks my heart, this must be written here also. I was guilty of some of the deeds as mentioned in the following poem. Little Babe always took a backseat to Hannah. He was a mama's bird though, and he loved me so. I was not consistent in my loving of Babe. He could be very annoying sometimes with his loud "screeching." I know he was only doing it to get my attention. When he did that and I would go get him, he would stop squawking.
Here's the awful poem I hate to acknowledge, but it has to be done for Babe's sake and memory, and as part of my apology to him.

A Tear Fell
As I sat alone and listened to the family down the hall,
They were laughing and so happy and missed me not at all.
I heard someone remark, what a beautiful dog they had,
"Oh yes, he is a treasure, and he is never, never bad."

"Is he the only pet you have?" and the reply I clearly heard,
"Oh no, there is the cat and a hamster, and a stupid bird."

"Oh," the voice was heard to say, "and where might be your bird?"
"He's kept away from all of us so his screaming can't be heard.
He's just a pest and sits all day and he can't cuddle in your lap,
Birds are not affectionate you know, they just sit and take a nap."

"Or else they scream and make a mess, I just wish that he would go,
We have never really liked him, he was a gift from my Mom, you know.
She looks in on him when she comes around or else we would turn him out,
He's such a stupid bird you know, all we ever hear him do, is to shout."

Down the hall in a little cage, huddled close to the dish of seeds,
A tear slid down from a little eye, there was no one to know his needs.

But Someone had a different plan, for his pain and distress was heard,
Next morning when his seed was brought and he was left without a word,
The little one realized at once, his cage door had been left open wide,
He flew down the hall and across a room and suddenly he was outside.

He flew for what seemed like miles until he finally had to land,
He circled around and dropped down below and lit upon a hand.

She smiled at him and said, "Hello" and her voice was soft and kind,
No one had ever been nice to him and he never believed he would find,
A person to love him or someone to care, having a heart brimming with love,
But she gently took him inside with her and told him he'd, "come from above"
To fill her heart with joy again for her baby had just been taken away,
Across the Bridge to wait for her there just as he had come to stay.

She called him Hope, for he gave back her life and caused her heart to sing,
This miracle come to fill her life with joy, a miracle on feathered wing.

As he went to sleep that very night in a beautiful cage by her bed,
A tear fell down a feathered cheek as he heard what she whispered and said,
"Goodnight little Hope, wake me in the morning." And he gave her a feathered grin,
No more sadness and loneliness for them, their new life was about to begin.
Written by: Juanita

Maybe Babe got tired of waiting for me to truly appreciate him and flew down to the dog so he could go to Rainbow Bridge where he would always be loved and be happy and free!!

For the first few nights after Hannah died, I did bring Babe into my room, and he slept on a basket right beside me in my bed. I never put him anywhere off all by himself, but I "pushed him away too many times and yelled at him too many times to "shut up."

I KNEW after Hannah was gone that I needed to give my love to Babe and that I should have waited to get other animals so it could just be precious little Babe, at least for awhile. In my grief, I hadn't yet quite found enough love in my heart to totally embrace the little precious bird I still had.

Babe would sing to me every morning. He had such a beautiful little song. Sometimes we would whistle back and forth to each other. I would try to copy his whistle, and he would also try to copy mine. At midnight covered in his cage, he sang his little song for Hannah the night before she was put to sleep. Even though he didn't seem to much like Hannah when I was around, I found them several times together when I would come back home. And also the night before Hannah died, I found him on the bed with her sitting on her back. Babe was a very smart little guy.

I hand-fed Babe for months after he was hatched. He was a very dear little fellow. Babe never could fly. Either his mom and/or dad picked all his tail feathers off or something happened when he was just a tiny little things. After a time, he grew a beautiful long tail with beautiful, perfect feathers, but he never realized he could fly.

He, like Hannah, had such bright little searching eyes. He would ## his head and listen to my every word. He lived for about ten minutes after he was attacked, and while my neighbor was there with him while I went to get a towel, she said he lifted his head. No doubt, little Babe was looking for me still.

I had just been sitting in the front room at the dining table where I had put Babe's cage to keep him safe from the dog. I was putting together some notebooks of poems and stuff. Babe was right there with me, although he didn't come out and climb all over me or sit on my shoulder as he usually did, and I didn't pick him up. I fed him a little wheat bread though. He just sat there by me not asking for anything.

I was GOING TO BEGIN TO pay more attention to Babe and the new animals this week, when I was finally going to have a few days off. Now, I have the days off, but there is no Babe to love. The cage is empty, save for his little feathers and seeds. I remember one day getting down on the floor to search for signs of Hannah, and all I found were bird feathers. I was so disappointed . . . Now there will be no more bird feathers either -- no more Babe songs to wake me. Babe is on the left in the picture -- you will see the no tail feathers there. Of course, that's Miss Hannah with him, and one of his sisters, whose name is Bopper. (Boppier is alive and well in Gulf Shores, Alabama, where he lives with a man who owns a convenience store. Bopper is THE BIRD of Gulf Shores. He stays in the store when it is open, and everyone knows him. Hannah and I went to visit Bopper about a week before she was put to sleep. They remembered each other.)

This is to Babe:
Babe, please accept my apologies. I am so, so sorry that I never loved you like I should or wish now that I had. You were a beautiful, loving, precious little fellow. I know that you loved me very much. Please, please forgive me for not being there for you so much of the time, and please, please forgive me for not protecting you from the dog. Please forgive me for getting the new dogs, Babe. Please forgive me for not letting you be "enough" to get me through my grief. I did love you, Babe. I did. And now, I miss you so very much too. You were with me for a long time too, I think about seven years. You can fly now Babe -- you could have flown for a long time. You just didn't know it. Be with your big sister, Hannah. Give her a "kiss kiss" for me Babe, like the "kiss kiss" you gave me so many times.

One day, Babe, I'm going to raise some more baby birds, and promise you, I'll love them like I wished I had loved you. You weren't just a bird, Babe. I always knew that. You deserved so much more than I ever gave you. You too were a gift from God. Thank you Babe for loving me through it all. Thank you Babe. Love you Babe, beautiful babe. I thought I had more time, Babe. I thought I had more time. I was wrong in so many ways about so many things.

Little Babe was beautiful (as was Bopper), and also our precious lil' Hannah girl.

Beautiful "story" you wrote, Marcia AND a beautiful tribute to your precious Babe.

Thank you for sharing "Juanita's" beautiful poem!

This is life......these are our families.....
Yes, I hold my Ms. Lucy and Mr. Yoster tighter now.
I know that they feel my love, and the love of their daddy, Ben.....


I used to say, right after Ernestine was gone...that, "I should've", "Why didn't I", etc., etc......

And, some wise person on this site said, "BECAUSE YOU ARE A FAMILY".....
And, "as families", we sometime "forget", "ignore", "yell" and even say, "shut up"... Not meaning too, mind you.

I think of my "Human family".

My dad, in a nursing home............I SHOULD BE THERE MORE OFTEN, and I will, because I love him...
If only for 1/2 hour visit ---- it's a lot more than I do now!!!!!

And, my mom, doing the best that she can with her medical illnesses that are very painful........
I need to see her more, as well.

My brothers..........They have lives of their own..... I'm 43...
The oldest is 45, and the youngest is 36 with a wife and 3 beautiful kids.
I'd be happy if I knew that they, too, will visit our parents.

Ben & I, Lucy and Mr. Yoster..........We are a unit, we are a family.
And, I love them with all my heart!!!

Thank you Marcia!!!
God Bless you & your family!

Love, Denise

p.s. (and, everyone else on LS and their very special families)

marcia-you and I have talked so I know of your love for
beautiful words! what beautiful words both you and juanita
used to describe so much love and conflict and regret and
resolution!
I found a poem that I loved too--could a wee bird be
compared to a ship? yes this one----!


I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says:
"She is gone."
 
Gone! Where?
Gone from my sight --that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me,
not in her.
 
And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
"She is gone",
There are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout:
"There she comes"
- and that is dying.  An horizon and just the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, Oh Lord, that we may see further.

Bishop Brent
1862 - 1926

thinking of you marcia!
patti

Patti,

That is beautiful -- perfect -- for us all. Thanks so much for sharing that. Thanks so much for everything.

Marcia

backatcha kiddo

oh and I forgot to say babe was very beautiful, great photo!

Marcia,

That is a very touching tribute! Babe is smiling right now; he understands everything. (And your grief now is proof of your love.) And, as Denise said, you're "family"---and in the comfort of the routines and familiarity it is not uncommon to say things or neglect, etc. etc. But that doesn't mean you didn't love Babe. Not at all. And Babe knows that.

Have you re-read the article on guilt yet? It is so healing.

Marcia,

I feel certain that that's not the case. While we're in these physical bodies, we all have a natural instinct to survive, even though we know things are better on the other side. Babe knew he was loved. Your mind/logic may try to tell you otherwise---which is only human nature---but on a deeper level I know that Babe felt your love. And he had security and companionship (that doesn't mean someone is there all the time, but he had the security of knowing his needs would be taken care of). If on the slim chance that he did indeed try to speed up his arrival at Rainbow Bridge, it would have been only because he missed Hannah too much!

But to torture yourself would not be good for either Hannah or Babe. Try to take comfort in knowing that they are together now .