Jeannie, my 1st cousin, died of cancer.
The funeral was May 31 so I met my sister and her husband to make the trek up to our hometown, Milwaukee. We meet at the intersection of 22 and 294, where I park my car and ride up with them. We've done this for years. The years that my mother had her stroke and we drove up at least once a week and then when my father's health was failing in his mid and late eighties, we drove together from this particular spot on the map.
Jeannie's funeral Mass is celebrated by her brother, Fr. Russ. He is our family's resident priest. He has married most of us, baptized many and buried a few as well.
One of Jeannie's sons offered a eulogy after the Mass. They were visiting her in the nursing home and wanted to bring flowers the next time. "What's your favorite color, Mom?""Yellow", she said. "It's always been yellow."
She died on May 13th and 2 weeks later, as a memorial to his mother, he brought a plaque with her name inscribed and had it attached to the bird house she loved to watch from her room. The worker at the nursing home said the birdhouse had been quite busy the last couple of weeks."There must be a family of those yellow finches coming to nest there."
Her son said he know his mother's spirit was close by and had sent this sign.
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