The phone rings.

Here it comes.

Grandpa's dead. He died this afternoon.

Another death call from across the country.

I'm sorry. I won't be coming for the funeral. I hope you understand.

Death is never convenient.

Looking out across the basin, I catch a glimpse of the snow-capped Olympic Mountains through the gathering clouds. A lone bird is circling above the fir tops. Is it a turkey vulture? A raven?

Take care of yourself. I'll call you tomorrow.

It sounds so empty, so meaningless. Not being there in person to comfort my father grates on my sense of duty. It isn't even two years since my mother, his wife and partner of over 40 years, passed away. Now his father, after one hundred years of life, has left this world. He's not totally alone now, I tell myself. Diane, his new partner, sounds like a great match and she will help him take care of affairs.

A croaking sound brings me back to the present. I look out the window and see a raven. Flying above the forest and heading towards the mountains, he's scanning the coastline for food.

I consciously chose to move here, I remind myself. Trading the concrete jungle for rainforest was one of the toughest decisions I ever made. Leaving family and friends for a new life was necessary, but it took me years to depart. I feel tenderness in my heart for Ontario and all the treasured memories it holds but I am a West Coast person now. Missing the milestones like births and deaths is part of the deal I accepted when I uprooted. Meeting my partner here and instantly feeling a sense of connectedness to place reaffirmed my decision. Return visits I've made back home” further solidified my choice as the right one.

A swooping motion below the firs signals the raven has found something of interest. As I wait for his reappearance, I notice a fog starting to roll in over the Basin. I open the window wider and inhale the sweet scent of blackberry blossoms. Their vines reach out along the driveway like arms looking for a hug. I picture myself hugging my dad. He will move through his grieving process whether I am physically with him or not, and he knows I am with him in spirit. By remaining here I stay focused on my current life.

The raven emerges above the treetops, heading towards the east. The wind swallows up his song before it reaches me. I close the window. It's beginning to rain.

Biography
Kathryn Kusyszyn was born in Toronto, Ontario in 1971. Raised in the suburb of Thornhill, she moved to London to attend The University of Western Ontario where she obtained an Honors Degree in English Language and Literature. Inspired by all her British reading, primarily the Romantics, she set off for a summer-long 'Grand Tour' of Europe and decided to remain in Britain as long as her working visa lasted- and then some. After travelling in Asia and spending a year in Australia, she returned to Ontario only to find that she was seriously infected with the travel bug. Various other journeys including yoga teacher training and nutrition school ensued culminating in a relocation to Salt Spring Island, BC. Currently Kathryn resides in Sooke where she teaches yoga classes and listens to ravens.