I came across this bird drawing a year ago on Papa's birthday
After my papa died, not long after, I had a dream about him.
I stood inside an ancient church at the very back. Everything was dark, and everything was cold.
I looked down at the stone floor, at the dust on the stone floor, and at my bare feet in the dust on the stone floor.
I looked up and ahead, and I saw light and I felt warmth emanating from the front of the church. And there stood mon beau Papa. He smiled, and his smile was beatific. He lifted and cupped his hands and motioned me to come forward and see the secret that he held in his cupped hands.
I cautiously moved towards him, and when I reached him, I finally also smiled. He did not speak, but gently nodded at his hands. I looked into his blue eyes and then down to his hands. Inside, within a soft warm glow he held a little bird.
The next day I called La Sorcière, ma maman, and told her about the dream.
She barely let me finish. "Your Papa always worried about you, and what he wanted more than anything was for you to find serenity... the little bird is serenity."