The sun was out, the sky blue, it was wonderful summer weather yet the day wasn’t without tragedy that shook me and brought back an even sadder time.

Maybe having a bird die doesn’t sound tragic, but to me it is. We have had birds hit our windows before but never the size of a crow. But on this beautiful day, somehow a crow that weighed maybe close to two pounds flew right into our big bay window, broke its neck and died instantly.

How a big crow can fly right into a big window is beyond my ability to comprehend. Although after a few beers once many years ago, I walked into a sliding glass door that was clearly closed. So maybe the crow was drunk?

Seriously, though, I have no clue why a bird that big would on a very bright and warm day mistakenly fly into a window. It makes no sense.

I didn’t know at first what had happened. I heard this loud noise and looked around to see what was going on. It wasn’t until I went outside and looked at our back steps that I knew. The crow laid there, still warm, but dead as dead gets.

As I approached it, another crow in one of the tall trees around our house started making enough noise to bring special attention at a packed Safeco Field. I eventually moved the dead crow to some nearby bushes and as I did the crow in the tree went berserk. Suddenly, this terrible feeling of sadness swept over me.

We have had plenty of crows around our place for many years. I have come to recognize that they have a social order because of the way they cover for each other, watching from the top of trees at the humans milling around below.

A year ago a flock of maybe 200 crows flew low over our house and then a few minutes later another big flock did likewise. I don’t know where they were going, but if it was a party it had to be the biggest in crow history.

It was perhaps 10 years ago that I heard a lot of racket outside from my black-feathered friends. I went out to investigate and discovered a baby crow had fallen from a tree. It couldn’t yet fly and at the time we still had our beloved cat, Boogie. I didn’t want Boogie to get the baby, so I picked it up and moved it into some bushes, hoping Boogie would not find it.

That loving gesture drew an angry response from a group of crows watching from above. I don’t know what happened to the baby, but for months afterwards a large group of crows would wait for me to appear from the house and then dive-bomb me.

They would even follow me in my walks down the street. They flew from tree to tree as I walked and when I wasn’t looking would dive-bomb me. If I turned to face them, they pulled up and flew back to a top of tree to wait for their next chance.

So I should know better than to mess with them, even if it is an innocent thing like moving one of their dead buddies off the steps.

I watched that day as several of the crows flew around the house. Hours later as it was getting dark, one of them landed low in the bushes where I had placed the dead one. It moved down even lower in the bushes and I lost sight of it.

As I sat there watching, I began to think that there was some grieving going on, that the one in the bushes probably was a mate, a brother or sister. That made me sadder and I nearly started crying.

For days afterward, crows flew around the bush, and like before, when I came out of the house, they began making a lot of noise. I was not dive-bombed, but I knew they knew who I was and what I had done.

I tried talking to them and telling them I was sorry. They would go quiet while I talked, and then when I stopped, they yakked back.

Bottom line, I don’t think we are friends. May never be. We co-exist in a tenuous relationship. They may wish that I went away. I wish they never flew into a window again.

In the middle of this, I began to think about Junior. Our granddaughter was 3 when she was killed 20 years ago by a truck that backed over her. It so happened our remaining two granddaughters unexpectedly showed up for a short visit on the same day the crow hit the window. As we sat around talking, I couldn’t help but wish Junior were here with them. Sarah Mary Ann (Junior) would be 23 now, probably fresh out of college and looking for work in a terrible economy, or maybe even married.

It doesn’t seem possible Junior has been gone for 20 years. Those were very sad and tearful days in 1989. It took a long while to figure it all out. Her death changed the way our family was, from bad to good, and now I realize Junior was here to do just that.

Her words to me – which I have written here a few times before – after her death, were: “Don’t worry about me, I walk with the grace of God.” And when I finally did some deep thinking about her words, it became very clear what her mission here was.

Junior was consoling me when she said, “Don’t worry about me.” So after a while, I didn’t. I know she came here for a purpose, she left us for a purpose, and she is okay.

When she said, “I walk with the grace of God,” she was telling me she is a very special soul on the other side. An angel, in other words. She came to help, achieved that, and went back to whatever is done on the other side, which I know is our real home.

Still, her death produced a lot of sadness, and there are times it still makes me a little sad. I had fallen deeply in love with her in the short time she was with us. I let down all my many defense mechanisms, and left myself more vulnerable than I ever have.

My life hasn’t been without some deep valleys. The period after my mother’s sudden death when I was 12 left a big hole for me. That was never filled and for the next decade I was in what I refer to as my “Dark Ages.” I recovered from that period, but it set me back and it took a while to move on.

So it was hard for me to give of myself without preconditions. I built up a lot of defense mechanisms and still had them when Junior came along. She is the one who taught me to lose them and trust again.

Then she died and I almost fell back into my dark ages again. But I figured it out quickly enough to avoid that.

Still when the crow hit the window and other crows gathered, it brought back the sadness.

I have discovered it’s all right to be sad once in a while. Nobody is perfect, and I’m not. So I accept it, let it sweep over me, think about it, drop a tear or two, then move on.

I don’t know about the crows. I hope they move on.

Maybe someday all the terrible things going on around the world will cease and many others can move on, too. That would be wonderful.

In the meantime, I hope all is well with you.

Have a great month.

You are loved.