A counselor once told me that my mother would be more “accessible” to me after she died than when she was in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease.

I didn’t fully understand what she meant at the time.  She thought I was going to be able to communicate with my dead mother?

Yet, shortly after my mom died, I began to feel her presence on a regular basis.  And I began to dream about her as the vibrant woman she was before Alzheimer’s, instead of picturing her sick in the nursing home.

My brother told me that he often felt her presence, too, but in birds.  I thought this was fitting since our dad had affectionately called our mom, “Dee Dee Bird.”

Every mockingbird reminds me of my mom.

A few months later,  I was taking a little personal break on our back deck while both kids napped, which seemed like a Christmas miracle at the time, with the baby monitor (of course!), a glass of white wine, a cute new journal, a pen and Kathi Lipp’s book, The Me Project.

As Kathi had instructed, I was listing every goal I could dream up in the journal.  I finished writing the line, “Create a community for ‘Daughters of Dementia‘ ” and the word “scholarships” popped into my head, seemingly out of nowhere.  After all, scholarships had never been part of the plan.

At that moment, I looked up, and a mockingbird was perched quietly on our fence, lined up perfectly with where I was sitting on the deck.  I looked back down at my pen and paper, then up again.

The bird was gone.

I started to ponder this scholarships idea, and the fact that Texas A&M University, mine and my mother’s alma mater, has a brand-new medical school.

I looked up again with this new thought, and the bird was back, perched in the same spot on the fence.  But as quickly as I looked up, the mockingbird flew away.

Later, I stumbled upon the new Women’s Health in Neuroscience (WHIN) Program on the Texas A&M University College of Medicine’s website and had an “aha” moment about my seemingly random scholarships idea:

The brain, immune system and the vascular system are all sensitive to hormones such as estrogen, progesterone and testosterone.

Therefore, in women, events such as pregnancy and menopause, where hormone levels are abnormally high or low, can further complicate her risk for these neurological diseases. …

Through the WHIN program, the Department of Neuroscience and Experimental Therapeutics is interested in developing a cohesive preclinical approach to the understanding of how puberty, pregnancy and menopause change the risk and susceptibility for brain disease, with the goal of developing both diagnostic and therapeutic strategies.

Was that mockingbird trying to tell me something?  Or, better yet, was God using that mockingbird to show me something?

My mockingbird

On my birthday last week, my mother-in-law pointed out a mockingbird to my daughter and nephew at the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center, which was one of my mother’s favorite spots. That afternoon, I was at my house alone because my girls went to my in laws for the night.

I walked outside to check the mail and paused in the driveway to admire the new play scape my husband had lovingly assembled in our backyard, and there she was.

Perched on the fence next to the driveway, perfectly quiet and still, my mockingbird was waiting for me. My eyes filled with tears as we stood there staring at one another for several minutes.

My mother

Texas’ state bird gets her name from her reputation for mimicking the songs of other birds but she actually sings her own song, as well.

I instinctively sang “Hush Little Baby, don’t say a word, Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…” to both of my babies at bedtime more times than I can count (sometimes I still do).  And I suspect that my mom must have sang those words to me, too.

Like the mockingbird, my mother embraced language and tradition, and her creativity was visible to those who knew her well.

And like the mockingbird, my mother was fiercely loyal and protective.

Texas Parks & Wildlife Department describes our talkative little Texan’s tenacity:

Once a mockingbird stakes out its territory, it will defend that territory against all intruders, including animals much larger than itself.

I have actually watched a mockingbird hold her ground against a hawk to safeguard her nest in my backyard numerous times.

She protects her home and her babies at all cost.  She is faithful and diligent.

Now, my mockingbird watches over me, reminding me that I am loved.

Every ladybug brings to mind my step mom.

A couple of days after we said our goodbyes to my step mom Karen at her memorial service, an orange ladybug appeared in my kitchen on my mint plant. I don’t remember her ever talking about ladybugs but I know she loved fresh mint and peppermint essential oil, and its orange color reminded me of Karen’s alma mater, the University of Texas.

When we first met Karen, my brother called her the “blessings lady” because her stint in South Africa had given her the unusual habit of saying “blessings” whenever she told someone farewell. And aren’t ladybugs a sign of good luck, after all?

Now, it’s as if each ladybug is saying “blessings” on her behalf.

Always with us

Maybe the mockingbirds and the ladybugs are all just a coincidence.   But I believe that if we keep our eyes open, God gives us little reminders of the loved ones we have lost at every turn.

Because, we haven’t really lost them, after all.