Be The Cardinal

A Reminder That It Is All Temporary

Do you know what it means when a cardinal comes to visit you? I didn’t. Then one did. Now I know.

I am not prone to believing. But every now and then the unexplained hits you right in the face and you do need to think again. This is a tale of that.

My mother had been feeling poorly. It was on Election Day 2016 that my sister and I got her to the doctor. They sent us to the emergency room. It was not a good day. While looking for the source of her back pain they did indeed find a fractured vertebrae.

The doctors also found cancer. It was bad. It was a death sentence. As we watched election results my mother joked, “ who would have thought cancer would be the second worst news of the day.” She had disliked Trump since the 1980s, well before it was fashionable or based on politics.

The last photo of me and my mum. She died about three weeks later.

The next 28 days are a blur. That was how long it took for her to die. Her death set in motion two realities.

One, my reality. Her son, brother to her other children. Father to two of her grandchildren. I faced that responsibility to family and myself.

Second, I was the executor of her estate. Worst job ever. She owned several houses and it was decided that we should sell one to pay her death taxes. The home in question was in London. She had been renting it. Once the tenant’s lease was up, Brexit and then Covid made selling it a delicate endeavor.

Me and mum, Mary.

In this case “delicate” means monumental pain is the ass. Prospective buyers. Offers. Counteroffers. Architects. Engineers. In the end we found a couple keen to buy what was a very old home in need of work. Contracts were drawn up.

Then one morning my real estate broker called.

It was early New York time. The conversation was brief. The buyers were pulling out. I’d been expecting to exchange contracts the day the offer was withdrawn. My mother had been dead four and a half years. This was all taking too long.

I’d started receiving letters from the tax man. They send a lot of mail. Certified mail. I started to dread getting the mail. The collectors didn’t care about Covid or Brexit. Penalties and interest added up.

That morning, bad news in hand, I was distraught. But life goes on. I drove my son to school.

After dropping him off. In a private moment. I began to panic. Second guess myself. I started to get angry at my mother. I was upset. Very upset.

Then the weirdest thing happened.

I was stopped at a red light. On 86th Street in Manhattan. Just west of 5th Avenue.

The MET on the right, the playground on the left.

To my left a playground I had played on as a child. To my right the the MET or The Metropolitan Museum of Art. A cardinal flew up to my front passenger window. It fluttered for a moment and then came to rest on my door. It used the rubber at the bottom of the window to perch itself. It was magnificent. Impossibly red. Beautiful.

It looked right at me and lifted off again. But my visitor didn’t leave.

A cardinal.

It flew to the front windshield and landed again. This time on the right hand side windshield wiper. This time it stayed longer. Its head bobbed. Twisted. It was looking at me.

I found it bizarre. It was busy out. Rush hour. My car among many others. I wasn’t a tree branch offering a respite from the city. I was the city.

A moment later it lifted off and I was on my way. But it was such an unfamiliar encounter. I kept thinking about it. Which was a welcome distraction.

When I got home I did a Google search. Something like, “what does it mean when a cardinal lands on you.” The results of my query were on point that morning. One site reassured me with, “something good is on the horizon,.” Another said, “Cardinals represent luck, manifestation, devotion, setting boundaries, loyalty, and domestic harmony.”

Then I read this, “A cardinal is a representative of a loved one who has passed. When you see one, it means they are visiting you. They usually show up when you most need them or miss them.”

I’ve thought a lot about this. First, the way I was feeling that morning. The intense stress or anxiety. Fear over one thing can infect your time and thoughts. You might be enjoying a moment with friends. Or watching a movie and it suddenly hits you. The dread seems to linger just out of sight from you mind’s eye all the time.

We never let good things do that. Only bad things haunt you. I suspect that’s some primal survival reflex. It makes me think we shouldn’t dwell on what can’t kill us. Only worry about danger. Not the multitude of scenarios an imagination can conjure up. Real danger. The sort we use seat belts to protect us from.

If all the self-help jargon escapes you in a moment of crisis fall back on not giving a fuck, my mom would approve.

It reminded me of the temporary nature of it all. Our lives, our moment is brief. Seek to let the good linger, enjoy success as much as failure. Say, “I love you.” Don’t let desire for perfection interfere with what’s good enough. That note, text, compliment, send it, give it.

The second part of all this, my cardinal. A message from heaven? A reassuring, disarming, distracting moment. What is one to believe. It’s just coincidence, right? There’s no way this bird was my mother visiting from another realm to reassure me it would be ok. That’s nut.

Except.

Less than 48 hours later I had a new offer on the home, for more money. Within a few months the house sold and the bills got paid. It was all fine.

Be the cardinal.

Thanks mum.