Friday evening, at about 7 pm, I got “that call” from my brother. Our mother had died. Florence Reynolds (Bailey) Minch left us before seeing her 100th birthday which would have been on October 25. Many of us believe she wanted to be with her girls (her oldest daugthers, Shirley and Charlotte, who died in 2022) more than she wanted to see another birthday.
Last year, she had her annual exam. Her doctor pronounced her a “fine specimen of a woman.” She corrected him: “I’m a lady.” After that, I and other family members often referred to her as “a fine specimen of a lady.” Indeed, she was.
Several years ago I wrote about her and my aunt Edith who was dying from cancer at that time: Meditation on Life and Mom Near the end of that post, I wrote “it’s listening to her talk about her birds and squirrels and the occasional woodchuck that I’ll miss.”
Over the last few years, she became entranced by Baltimore Orioles, particularly the males since they have more striking plumage. In fact, during the last couple of phone calls we had before she broke her hip and went to hospital, she’d say, “I just want to see the Baltimore Oriole one more time.” I never asked what she meant by “one more time.” I chose to think that she meant they were migrating, and she wanted to see another one before they were gone for the winter.
This past week, our feeder was being visited by a female Baltimore Oriole. I couldn’t tell my mom because she had stopped taking phone calls. Her voice was too weak and the effort too tiring.
This morning, while fixing coffee, I saw a male Baltimore Oriole at the feeder. Maybe I should have felt sad that I could no longer tell Mom of my sightings, that I couldn’t pick up the phone and call her or ask someone to pass my message along. But I didn’t feel sad. I felt a surge of joy. One of my mom’s favorite birds was visiting my home. Coincidence? I think not.
My mother over the years.