“We had opened all the windows and doors to that radiant morning.  We spent the early hours of the morning singing and reading to her, speaking our final words of love.  The sun came up through the trees, radiating golden light through the room as the birds were singing up the dawning of the day.  At 8:25, her murder of crows started calling and erupted from the marshy woodland behind the house, flying past the windows in full heralding cries.  In that moment her eyes popped open, and her breathing changed.  With us holding her, she took her last breath, and I swear you could feel her soul lift away into the morning, free and flying with such joy with her crows. It was exactly as it should be, as she would have wanted it.  It was magical and beautiful.”

From Seasons of Grief