“It’s time to go,” Papa whispers quietly. 

I try to move but I can’t. My feet stay planted on the floor and my gaze is fixed on Mamie. Her breathing is shallow but her eyes are open. She offers me a small smile. “Je t'aime très fort ma biche,” she whispers to me. Slowly and with great effort it seems, she raises her hand, reaching for mine. 

Desperately, I try to restrain my tears. I can’t cry in front of her. Not when she is being so strong. She is the one on her deathbed and I’m the one crying. No. I will not allow Mamie’s last image be of me sobbing. Carefully, I clasp her frail hand in mine. 

“I,” Mamie hesitates, trying to think of the right words. “I will always be near. You just have to look.” 

I try to lock her in my memory; her heavy french accent and that determined look in her clear blue eyes. Just the thought of forgetting pushes me to the brink of tears. “Ok,” I whisper hoarsely. 

Mamie smiles. “You know where to look?” she asks quietly. 

I don’t answer right away. Unlike my grandmother, I am not religious. She knows this. But how can I tell her that when the cancer finally takes her, I will never see her again? How can I admit that to myself? It is much easier to lie to us both. Much less painful. 

“Dans le ciel,” I reply. That’s where heaven is. That is where she thinks she’ll end up. 

Mamie smiles. I offer a weak smile in return. Then I quickly look away before it becomes too much. My gaze falls on the window. Evening sunlight floods the room. A beam of golden light falls across Mamie’s bed. A flicker of movement catches my eye. It is a Brown-Capped Rosy Finch. I smile as I remember Mamie teaching me about it. She has been obsessed with birds ever since she moved to Colorado. 

“Les oiseaux sont incroyables. Ils survivent dans un monde qui est toujours en train de changer,” Mamie had told me countless times. 

Never had I truly listened to her. I always thought there would be a tomorrow to spend time with her so I never was really with her. Now as I look at her thin form lying on the hospital bed, I wish that I had spent more time with her. But I didn’t and it is too late. “Je t’aime très fort, Claire,” Mamie whispers. 

“Je t’aime très fort, Mamie,” I whisper back. 

Then, before I can fall apart in front of her, I follow Papa out of the room. I hold in my tears during the walk to the car and the car ride home. It is as if someone just ripped out my heart. I hate this empty feeling. It is only when I cross the threshold of my room that I finally crumble. Pain floods through me. It isn’t the type of pain you get when you break your leg, it is so much worse because you know this wound will never truly heal. 

I just curl in a ball on the floor and cry until the empty feeling returns.

One week later…. 

Although a week has passed, it still doesn’t feel real. Every day after school, I expect to see Mamie drive up in her Hyundai, waving and beaming at me. But she is never there. The first few mornings, I would wake up early to watch the sunrise, hoping to find her. But eventually I gave up on that too. Now, for some reason I don’t quite understand, I am angry at the sky. Maybe it is because that blue expanse always seems so cheerful or maybe it is because, even though I know it is impossible, I can’t find Mamie in it. 

“Claire, are you ready?” Papa asks. 

I shake the thoughts out of my head. Papa, Blaise and I are standing in front of Mamie’s house. It looks empty and sad. Or maybe that is just how I feel. “Claire?” Blaise prompts. 

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. 

Am I ready? Of course not. I will never be ready to clean out Mamie’s house. Cleaning it out means I have to accept that she isn’t coming back. Never. She is gone. I just don’t know if I’m ready to accept it yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. But I need to get through it. Let go of her so that I can keep on living. 

“Ok,” Papa sighs. He looks exhausted. His normally neat hair is messy and there are purple bags under his eyes. “I’ll do her bedroom. Blaise, why don’t you do your bathroom and Claire you can do your bedroom.” 

I nod. We don’t speak another word as we enter the house. The kitchen counter that was always decorated with some sort of flowers is now bare. The colorful paintings that adorned the walls are nowhere to be seen. As we head up the carpeted stairs, memories flash through my head. Memories of the times we played hide and seek, the day Mamie first moved into her new house and the one night that we slept at her house. Guilt washes through me. I should have made more of an effort, should have spent more time with her.

When we reach the top of the stairs, we split up. Blaise continues walking straight, Papa turns left and I turn right. As I approach the white door of our bedroom, I take a deep breath. You can do this. Then I swing open the door. 

The room is just how we left it. Two twin beds sit on opposite sides of the room. An elegant black desk is pushed up against the wall. Sunlight streams in from the two windows. I can feel my composure crack again. Before I know what I’m doing, I bolt out of the room, down the stairs and out the front door. Tears are streaming down my face and my chest is heavy with sobs. 

Suddenly, I become aware of the small bird sitting on the railing of the porch, watching me. At first glance, the bird appears to be a plain brown color. But Mamie taught Blaise and I to look closer, so I do. And as I do, I begin to notice the little streaks of bright red feathers on the wings and the bronze feathers on its neck. Then the bird opens its wings and glides over to the small table in the corner of the patio. As it flies, I am able to catch a glimpse of rosy pink on its belly. It is a Brown-Capped Rosy Finch. Mamie’s favorite bird. 

“Hey,” I whisper to the bird. 

It doesn’t fly away at the sound of my voice. Encouraged, I edge closer to the table. The bird gives me a suspicious look but still doesn’t budge. Slowly, I slide myself into one of the cushioned chairs surrounding the table. The bird still doesn’t move. We sit in a comfortable silence for a minute. It really is beautiful, nature, I mean. With the light blue sky stretching for what seems like forever and the tall grass that dances gently in the breeze. But that isn’t even the best part. The birds are the true gems of nature. Sometimes I wonder how it would feel to fly, to let go of all my thoughts and emotions and just fly. 

I turn my attention back to the bird. It is still watching me. Actually, I think it is a she. Her feathers aren’t as brightly colored as the others I’ve seen. For some strange reason, I have an urge to talk to her. I know it is bizarre and probably crazy but it feels like I need to. 

“You know, I lost my mamie a week ago,” I whisper to the bird. She appears to be paying attention. Yup, I’ve definitely lost it. I am officially crazy. But even though I know it is crazy, I keep talking. “It sucked. No, it really sucks.” 

Naturally, the bird is silent. But she is still looking at me. I gaze right back into her black eyes. Calm washes over me as I gaze into her eyes. Questions bounce around my head. How old is this bird? How much has she suffered? Probably more than me. After all, she is a bird and I am a human. Humans don’t have to deal with giants bulldozing down their homes and releasing deadly chemicals into their habitats. 

“Thank you,” I whisper to her. I’m not exactly sure why I’m thanking her. Maybe it is because of the way she brought me back to reality. 

The bird looks at me and dips her head. It is a small, almost unnoticeable movement but I see it. I frown, confused, but before I can say anything, the bird flaps her wings and disappears into a tree. 

“Claire?” Papa’s shouts from within the house.

Slowly, I stand up and make my way to the door. Something within me feels different. My hands and legs feel lighter and my chest no longer aches. A small smile appears on my face as I remember what Mamie said. 

“You know where to look?” 

“Dans le ciel.” 

In the sky. A tear flows down my cheek. But for the first time since I found out her cancer was terminal, I don’t feel empty or sad or angry. In fact, happiness floods through as I watch the birds zoom through the air, imagining Mamie gliding amongst them.