Pigeon Salvation(Gordon England) Ring, ring. Annie and I turned from "I Love Luci" on the television, looked at the phone, and then at each other.
I checked the caller ID. Ring, ring.
"It’s your daughter-in-law," I said.
“You get it. I don’t want to talk.”
I picked up the phone. “Hello, Kimberlee.”
“Gordon, where are you?”
“In the den, watching TV.”
“Is Annie there?”
“Yes.”
“Go to the bedroom so we can talk privately.”
“Okay.” Sensing trouble, I left the family room.
Kimberlee whispered, "I need to tell you something terrible.”
“Yes.”
"The police have been here questioning me for an hour."
“What’s going on?” I asked as my stomach sank.
“Larry died,” she replied in a flat voice.
My mind reeled. The air left my lungs. Listening to the big black hole in the phone, I sank onto the bed. I fought to control my voice and emotions.
“What happened?”
With a monotone voice, she said, “I came home a couple of hours ago and couldn’t find Larry. When I searched the house, I found him in the bathtub. He had fallen into it and hit his head. He was blue. I knew right away. I stared at him for the longest time, then, I called the police. I waited and waited for them to arrive. They’ve been here taking photos and asking a million questions. You must tell Annie that Larry is dead. I can’t do that, Gordon. I gotta go now. The police want to talk and ask more questions. Goodbye.”

I tried to collect my thoughts. My God, is it true? Yes, and I must tell Annie. This is so bad. I don’t think she can handle her second son’s death. She will need every ounce of my strength.
I stumbled from the bedroom to the den.
Annie turned her smiling face from Luci to me. “What did Kimberlee say?”
I grimaced as I turned the TV off and looked at her.
“What’s wrong?” Annie asked, her smile fading. “What did Kimberlee say?”
“I have something bad to tell you.” The blank look on my face foretold disaster.
“What is it?”
I walked to her and struggled to keep my voice calm. With all my heart, I didn’t want to tell her. I looked into her eyes, placed my hands on her shoulders, and said, "Annie, Larry died.”
The screaming silence was horrific. Annie's face crumbled.
"What?" she shouted in fear. "That can't be!"
The worst moment of my life unfolded. I had to stay strong for her.
Gripping her shoulders, I said, "That was Kimberlee. She told me Larry died and police were at the house. He’s gone."
“Noooo. Noooo. This can’t be!” she screamed. "First, Carl, and now Larry. How can both of my sons die? Oh God, help me."
I embraced her tightly as she fell into my arms. A moan rose from her chest.
"Noooo! Nooo! Nooo!" She turned white as a ghost.
“Yes, it's true."
“Why? How?” she sobbed. “Where is Melissa? I’ve gotta have Melissa.”

I laid Annie on the couch and ran to the front door. Pushing it open, I ran along the balcony in slow motion. Would I ever reach the end? I looked inside the last window. Melissa, Annie’s best friend, and Chip were home.
I banged on the door and window, yelling, “Melissa, Larry is dead! Larry is dead!”
Chip opened the door. “What’s the matter?”
I continued screamimg, “Larry’s dead!”
"Larry who?" Melissa asked. She knew but didn’t want to believe me.
“Annie’s Larry!” I yelled. “Come with me now!”
Chip and Melissa stumbled out their door.
“What happened?” she asked.
I turned to run in slow motion again.
“He died! He died!”
I couldn't stop shouting.

After an eternity of running, we entered my condo and rushed to Annie. She was sprawled on the couch, sobbing uncontrollably. Chip and I lifted her limp body and brought it between us as we cried hysterically.
I said, “Kimberlee called and said she came home and found Larry dead. I have no idea how he died, but he did.”
My wife screamed as all four of us hugged each other, sobbing and wailing for a seeming eternity before we ran out of emotion and put Annie on the sofa. A vacant stare filled her face.
“I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do? My poor Larry.”
I inhaled and said, “Melissa, stay here with Annie while I make phone calls.”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur as I relayed the terrible news to our families. I couldn't give details, just a short notice with a promise to call back. After ending the phone conversations, I stumbled to the living room where Annie lay in Melissa’s lap.
“She’s a zombie,” Melissa uttered.
“I’ll give her a sleeping pill and hold her through the night. Thanks for staying with her. We have a terrible day in front of us.”
“You have many dreadful days ahead of you.”
That was the last I remembered of the evening.

Annie slept late the following morning to avoid the world. I made more telephone calls and began dreadful arrangements. Annie, Kimberlee, and I were in a fog. I offered to find a church for Larry's services. He had no religious affiliation, so I spent a day hearing, “No” from preachers in Palm Bay. I understood their reluctance to rent their facilities to strangers. Eventually, a kind minister agreed to rent us his church to ease the suffering of our family and friends.
Returning to home, I found Melissa waiting for me with a pale face.
“She’s been crying outside all day. She won’t eat or drink. I’d be the same way if my child died.”
She shook her head and handed me a slip of paper.
“Here are your messages.”
“Thank you, Melissa. I'll take over."
Taking a deep breath, I tip-toed onto the balcony. Annie's chin rested on her chest as she perched on her feet and legs. Her unusually darkened eyes matched her black nightgown, unchanged from last night. No makeup enhanced her quivering face. Her head rose slowly, revealing eye sockets with bottomless black pits.
"Can I bring you anything?"
"Not unless you bring Larry back."
We sobbed until our tears dried out.
"I'll bring you coffee and cigarettes."
She nodded.

When I returned, she held up her hand and pointed. I stopped to watch a pigeon standing on our fourth-floor patio. The bird looked at me and cooed, then walked under Annie's chair. We froze as it explored the area, peered over the edge, then went back to Annie's chair and settled beneath it. We stared at each other in disbelief. I departed to make more funeral arrangements.

An hour later, I opened the patio door and stared in awe, my mouth open, and eyes unblinking. Her feathered friend had not moved. Annie watched it, her expression now transformed to a soft calm.
"It's a message from Larry," she whispered.
I nodded. Though wild fowl rarely approached people, anything was possible.
"Come out here."
As I stepped through the door, peacefulness and quiet engulfed me.
"Do you feel it?"
I nodded.
"I stopped crying."
Another nod.
Our cat, Lucy, appeared between my legs. I froze. Relaxed with flat fur, she sat and watched the pigeon. It strutted to the edge of the patio. Lucy crept to Annie and sat under her chair. We glanced at each other as a miracle unfolded. Cats and birds often oozed tension when close to each other, but not today. I glanced at Annie’s contented smile. Lucy strolled to the bird and lay near it. The pigeon swiveled its head, glanced sideways at the furry animal, then proceeded toward Annie. I left in reverence.

Later, when I took a sandwich and water to Annie, the balcony again felt like a temple. She smiled and pointed to Lucy and the bird near her feet.
“Larry is relaxed and so am I. He will help me through this.”
I left, then returned with water bowls and cat food. A short time later, Melissa brought bird food. Both animals ate and drank throughout the afternoon.
When Annie entered the condo at bedtime, she said, “I was okay outside, but gloom descended upon me when I exited the patio.”
We lay on the bed, and I embraced her for the night.

The following morning, she returned to the balcony. A few minutes later, the bird flew back and landed on the bar-b-que pit next to her. Lucy and the pigeon stayed with Annie another 48 hours, keeping her under their spell of serenity while I dealt with the agony of funeral services. The bird departed the third day.

I received yet another awful phone call on the morning of the fourth day. Our friend, Bill, had died in his sleep the previous night. Annie collapsed upon hearing more dreadful news. I took her to the patio where, to our surprise, the pigeon awaited Annie. She relaxed for two more days under the bird’s spell before we went to Larry’s funeral. When we returned, the bird had left and the patio had lost it aura.

From that day forward, when a family member or friend died, a pigeon showed up on our windowsill or balcony to signal another death. We would wait, wondering who had passed on.

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