It was a sad ordeal for all of us. How long would she be in the convalescent home? No one knew for sure. Yet, we suspected it wouldn't be for more than a few precious weeks. The place seemed friendly and cozy enough. The staff was very professional. There were always many daily activities to keep her occupied when she wasn't napping. All in all, she seemed to enjoy her new home. At least she accepted it willingly. That is until she went into the hospital... again. It was the third or, was it the fourth time? And she wouldn't be coming back to the rest home, and certainly not to her home.

I remember when my wife and I took her for a brief stroll around the convalescent home. We wheeled her past the nurses' station and through the community center. There were pictures on the walls of residents participating in various activities at the center – birthday parties, bingo, crafts. It reminded me of when our kids were in preschool.

Then we took her back to her room. I helped her up, lifting her below the arms and easing her into a chair. She smiled at me and held out her hand as if to offer thanks. I took it gently into my own and wondered if she was saying goodbye. – It's been a pleasure. Take good care of my daughter. Don't fight. And get a haircut! I don't know what she was thinking. It didn't help to ask since she could barely talk, and when she did, she was nearly impossible to understand. That didn't stop us from talking to her. And she would usually respond with a smile. She was in such good spirits, even to the very end. She was probably the most peaceful, pleasant person I had ever known. I never saw her become angry, depressed, afraid, or unpleasant.

Although peaceful, her death was not unexpected. The funeral was less than a week later. We said our goodbyes and shed our tears, and went home to continue with our own lives. The "kids" would go back to work and return to their homes separate from ours. The last time we all lived together in the same house was only the year before, during the pandemic. At the time, it worked out for the best. But now, everyone was headed in their separate direction, apart from everyone else.

Two days after she had died, I saw two mourning doves hobbling around on the brick patio not more than four feet from the kitchen window. I had no idea about mourning doves, yet I thought it was peculiar that they should appear. We have plenty of birds nearby, but these two were unusually close to the house. I believe they would have come inside if invited. It was almost as if they had a message for us. An internet search of "turtle doves" educated me about mourning doves and their legend of being messengers for the deceased.

Story and Cover Illustration Copyright © 2021 by Michael DeFrancesco