My father loved to listen to the bluebirds in
The bird house he built in our backyard.
When he got old and got Alzheimer’s,
All he could talk about was the bluebirds.
Sometimes it made me a little crazy
But I never let him know what made
Him happy was annoying me.
When he died, the blue birds went away,
And that saddened me almost
as much as losing him until the bluebirds
Sang again in my head, and I knew
It was an afterlife message from him.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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