A couple days ago, as I was coming out of the doctor's office, I finally caught on the air the scent that I knew was coming.  For me, Spring is heralded by a smell.  I can't really describe it... it's damp, a little pungent... it smells like the world thawing out and coming back to life.  For me it is typically the otherwise unnoticed boundary that marks the transition from Winter to Spring.  And, as with every joyful moment these days, I was immediately filled with a tremendous sadness that my Dad couldn't be there to enjoy it, that I couldn't phone him up or send him an e-mail about it.

This year I got the feel of Spring approaching even before detecting the scent of it.  We had some unseasonably warm days, lots of snowmelt, and the appearance of robins and other birds I associate with Spring.  A couple days prior to catching the scent I told my wife that I was depressed that Dad didn't get to see the coming of Spring this year.  She smiled and said "don't you remember the robins?"

She was right.  I had forgotten about that.  When I was laid up in bed with pneumonia, my Dad sent me the last e-mail I would ever receive from him, about something he knew I would enjoy.  I'm going to share it with you:

Date: Sat, 17 Feb 2007 11:59:16 EST
Subject: Hey

Hey Chuck,

How are you feeling? Hope your sickness is dissipating. Wanted to tell you about a strange (strange to me) event that took place here last Thursday. You know how robins show up in pairs usually, well we had a flock show up. I don't ever recall seeing such a thing. Grackles, yes, but not robins. Must have been 50 or more birds in the back yard. In fact our neighbor called to inform us. What they came for were the berries on the holly bushes. They just about cleaned them off. They are still, even today, coming by for more, but there's very little left and only a few birds at a time. The unfortunate aspect is the mess they left behind, it's every where. Have to watch where I step outside.

Pictures aren't great. Was hard to get them all without scaring them away, especially through the windows against the afternoon sun. I think I've seen just about every type bird I'm familiar with around these parts already.

Love you, Dad

In a way, these are my father's last words to me.  And upon reflection hearing him say he had seen all the spring birds already, gives me some small solace that Dad got to see this spring.  I can't tell you how much I miss him, and how much it hurts to be without him.  But at least he saw the birds he loved so much one more time before he passed away.  I've started my Spring 2007 photo album, and the first 3 pictures are Dad's robins... some of the photos he sent me when I was sick to help cheer me up.  Have a look, I thought they were pretty good pictures actually.