One of the sadder aspects of the timing of Marty’s passing was that he was not there for our daughter Jenny’s wedding. He never talked about how he felt about that, but he didn’t talk in depth about any of the disappointments he was experiencing through his whole ordeal. He kept most thoughts to himself. I think that was partly because he just wasn’t a complainer, but I also think he avoided some topics because he thought it might make things more difficult for the rest of us. He saw pictures of the dress she had picked out, but of course that’s not the same thing as seeing the actual dress - with her in it - no less. He also saw pictures of the place in Panama that Jen and Jeff had selected for their honeymoon, and he was excited about that for them. Although he didn’t talk about these things, I know they weighed heavily on him.
Flash forward to October 4, 2014. The wedding was held at a rustic venue about forty miles southwest of Denver, Colorado. The site of the ceremony was a wide, grassy meadow, flanked on both sides by hills layered with golden aspens and tall, dark evergreens. At the far northwestern end of the valley stood snow-capped Mt. Evans, which is where Jeff had proposed to Jen. It was a perfectly gorgeous view.
It was also a perfect mountain day. The azure blue sky held just enough clouds to add some pattern and a little interest. The late afternoon sun gleamed bright and warm, but the air also had a crisp, fresh coolness - a promise of the season’s change and things to come.
The ceremony was simple. Jeff escorted both his mother and me at the same time to our seats, and his father walked Jen down the stone path to the ceremony patio. In the middle of this lovely meadow, Jen and Jeff exchanged “I do”s on a platform in front of seventy friends and family. Her brother Josh officiated the ceremony, and her older sister Emily stood among the beaming (but slightly teary-eyed) bridesmaids. I sat in the front row next to my older sister, having difficulty at first controlling my own tears. I always cry at weddings, even of people I barely know, and this for me was of course the single most emotionally difficult wedding challenge. Thankfully, Josh managed to relieve the tension with a few light remarks (purposefully and otherwise), and everything proceeded as wonderfully as had been intended.
Immediately following the ceremony, members of the wedding party and relatives were herded toward the tree line for the official photo shoots. Guests entertained themselves in several ways: some mingled around treats and drinks on the patio where the ceremony had taken place; some played yard games that had been set up; still others went off to explore the environs a bit, following a winding creek next to the site or making friends with a pair of horses that had also witnessed the nuptials. Music from a solo guitar wafted through the air, creating a peaceful, easy ambience.
After my turn in front of the camera was over, I stood by myself for a while, watching the picture-taking and the other guests enjoying themselves. I felt a bit removed from everything, as if I wasn’t part of it at that point but was just taking it all in. My feeling at the time was bittersweet; it had been difficult seeing Jenny being walked “down the aisle” by someone other than Marty. I was feeling his absence keenly. But at the same time I was also thinking about how well everything had turned out. The location, weather, ceremony, the flowers, goodies and decorations in the barn for the reception, the DRESS – everything had come together in a way that had exceeded all my expectations, and I think those of Jen and Jeff, too.
As I reflected on the sheer pleasantness and beauty of the scene before me, I became aware of the song that the guitarist was performing. It was Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers.” I was suddenly filled with what I can only describe as both an overwhelming sense of happiness combined with complete serenity. Tom Petty was one of our favorite rock musicians (we had seen him in concert three times); and these simple lyrics and melody struck me as the perfect accompaniment for the moment. I felt as if the song had tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Listen. Look.”
I glanced toward the musician, some distance away, and noticed something in the sky, moving in our direction. I knew it was a large bird, but what kind? When I saw the flash of white against dark brown, I knew at once that it was a bald eagle. It continued sailing through the valley, toward where we all were. I was dumfounded. All I could manage to do was point to the sky and call out “Eagle! Eagle!” to anyone within hearing distance. But that was enough. Others saw it at the same time, and watched as this magnificent creature glided silently overhead and down the entire valley, to the last notes of the song, until it was out of sight. My heart could have burst, because I recognized that this was just not any eagle that happened to drop by; it was Marty.
To my delight, the musician followed up “Wildflowers” with a rendition of Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon,” another of our personal favorites, which sealed the deal in my mind. I couldn’t make my way fast enough to my brother and sisters who were near the ceremony platform. I didn’t even need to tell them what I had read into this appearance of the eagle; they had sensed it too. Then my brother-in-law Mike, who had been one of Marty’s favorite poker buddies, told me how earlier that afternoon he had reached into his jacket pocket and felt something. Not knowing what he might have left there, he pulled it out. The first thing he saw was Marty’s smiling face. It was the memorial card saved from Marty’s funeral. This was the first time he had worn that jacket since the day Marty was laid to rest. Mike said that all afternoon, he had felt that Marty was somehow present.
The rest of the evening was everything we had hoped it would be. The renovated barn where the reception was held had the warm, rustic vibe that Jen and Jeff had sought, the food was great, toasts were made, the music was fun, and everyone had a good time. It had been a long day, but all the effort had been rewarded: two families were joined as one and new memories had been made.
The next day I had to drop off leftover food, decorations, and gifts to Jen and Jeff. I hadn’t talked to her at the reception about the eagle. For one thing, she was so busy the whole time, and for another, I wasn’t sure how she would take it. She might have thought I was silly to assign that kind of meaning to something as perfectly normal as a bird of prey passing over its usual hunting grounds in late afternoon of an autumn day. Or it might have made her overly emotional and possibly weepy at a time when emotions were already on overload. I didn’t want to add to any stress, so while I talked about it with probably everyone else, I hadn’t brought it up with her.
After we unloaded the car, Jen and I talked about how everything had gone. Amid hugs and happy tears, the verdict: 1) expectations met and exceeded; 2) great relief over the perfect weather; 3) weren’t the pies and mini Bundt cakes delicious, and so on. Then I had to ask about the eagle. I couldn’t seem to muster up the right words. So stammering like an idiot, all I could come up with was something like “….So…. did you see the …. (pointing up)….?”
“….the eagle?” she blurted. “Sure, and I know it was Dad!” Then she told me than on one of her last visits, Marty had asked her to his bedside for a private talk. He did that with each of the kids; I wasn’t in the room and I didn’t ask him or them what had been shared. I considered that if he had a desire to speak privately with someone, then that was between them. But as Jen and I spoke about the eagle, she told me that on the occasion of their private talk, her dad had said, “Jenny, I will be at your wedding. I don’t know what form that might take….maybe a bird. But I’ll be there.”
I said, “I didn’t know that! You never told me!”
“I never told anyone.”
Then I complimented her choice of songs for the cocktail hour, mentioning how I had especially liked hearing “Wildflowers” and “Harvest Moon.” I asked if she had included them because of Dad. Her answer was no, that the musician himself had chosen all the songs for that part. It was pure luck that they made the cut….or was it more? We just looked at each other in wonder.
None of us who knew and loved Marty would ever doubt that this eagle carried his spirit to us on that special day. After all, he said he would be there.
