You might have noticed that my last post was “The Noble Jack Bibb.” It was three weeks ago. That’s because “The Noble Jack Bibb” was a tribute to my late high school English teacher, Jack Bibb, whose death knocked the wind out of me. If you are noticing any similarity between the two titles, then you have been paying attention: Noble Jack Bibb. Noble Hummingbird. Yes, noble is in both titles.
Ah, but “why?” you may ask. Yes, you may, and if you hold your horses, I will tell you. Mr. Bibb was definitely noble. I don’t know if hummingbirds are actually noble, too. It’s an interesting thought, but I agree “noble” is not an adjective that folks would typically associate with a hummingbird. “Fast,” maybe, or “buzzing,” maybe. “Noble” certainly isn’t the first thing that springs to mind.
However, (and thank you for reading and waiting patiently) I recently had an experience which has led me here to today’s post. I called Nancy, the newly widowed wife of Mr. Jack Bibb, last week and asked her how she was doing. It’s a hard question, and a silly one, really. How would you be doing if you had just lost your husband of 66 years, right? I’m going to go out on a limb here, and guess she is still more than just a little sad.
Still, it’s what we humans do. We ask, “How are you?” We ask loving, but stupid, things like, “Is there anything I can do?” Meanwhile the bereaved is like, “Um, can you bring them back from the dead?” Sadly, the answer is always no.
During this conversation with Nancy, who as it turns out, is not suddenly, magically “over” the death of her life-long mate, we had a pretty good conversation. By pretty good, I mean a healthy one. We cried. We laughed. We told each other about particular memories and talked about how we felt. At one point, we both cried at the same time.
It was at that moment, a humming bird appeared, right next to me, within about 8 to 12 inches away. He flapped his miraculously fast flap, he buzzed his hummingbird buzz. Within a foot of me! A hummingbird!
Whereas moments before, Nancy and I had both been crying, at this point I was shocked into silence. I had to wrap my head around the fact there was a hummingbird so close to me, something I have never experienced in my 51 years of being alive. I told Nancy. She said that it was comforting somehow, and that Jack liked birds. (I didn’t call him Jack; she did.) Everyone knows he’s Mr. Bibb. After 66 married years, SHE’S entitled to call him Jack, of course.
The truth is, I don’t particularly like birds. Birds sort of freak me out. Hummingbirds are the exception.Yet, here I was, in this moment, talking to Nancy, crying with Nancy, and there he was. The hummingbird.
It felt too perfect: the timing, our crying. Mr. Bibb’s spiritual appearance in the shape of a hummingbird had to be some kind of profound message from “the other side.” Sure, I could just be imagining things. I could be making it all up as a way to soothe my own grieving heart. Still, it felt magical. It felt like Mr. Bibb truly was there with us, in that moment, in all of his noble presence. Say what you will: you’re entitled. As for me, I am going to enjoy the moment of knowing that “Jack likes birds” and feeling the powerful energy of that beautiful hummingbird buzzing all around me. So, yes, Noble Hummingbird? I think so.