Sam, I love you and always will. March 7th, 2005 - August 27th, 2014

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You were the first pet I really "wanted."  Sure, there have been cats that have come and gone but you, you were special.  I chose you.  I chose you over a gorgeous Sun Conure and tantalizing blue quaker parrot.  You were special though, I could tell.  So I chose you.  That was March of 2005, nine years ago.  Your emerald green color with a peek of blue on your tail feathers were amazing.  You loved me.  You loved each and every one of us in this family.  Even Heidi you pretended to not like just so you could have pecking order over her. But when she was sick you crooned and cried with her.  Speaking of crooners, that was your favorite music.  The swingers and standards of the 40s.  You would sing along and bob up and down.

I hand-fed you.  You were just hatched and so I would go into the store every day to feed you until you were old enough for me to take home and feed.  We bonded then and from then on I was your momma bird.  But to be completely honest, you loved Emma most.  She would come home every day from school and just spend 20 minutes preening your pin feathers.  You would puff up so big.  You loved that.

When we first got you we didn't know if you were a boy or a girl so we named you Sam.  When you were about 3 years-old we had a DNA test done that told us you were a boy.  Finally!!! Another boy in the May family.  So you were officially Sam and not Samantha!

You weren't just loved by your immediate family though.  You loved your grandma Marilyn and Grandma Ladda and Nanna Donna.  The grandpas not so much except for Papa Ben.  He had a way with you and I'm sure right now you are sitting on his shoulder looking down at us.

I loved it most when you would sit on my shoulder and preen me.  Carefully choosing pieces of my hair to clean off.  Who knows what you were cleaning off, I probably don't want to know.  But it was your way of caring for me.  You even bit off a couple of my moles.  It hurt like heck but I know you were just trying to get that speck of dirt off of me.

We don't know how you died.  I'm so sorry if it was something we did unknowingly.  Watching you die is one of the hardest things I've had to watch. I was sitting in the vet's office with you in a small carrier on my lap.  I heard you rustle around. I looked, and your head was down.  I knew.  I still called for someone to rush you back.  They did but you were already gone.

I'm so sorry, Sam.  You should have had so many more years on this earth.  So many more years as our birdie.  So many more years to torment Heidi.  So many more years to love on all of us.  But instead you left this earth at a young age.  I know you're flying.  And you're happy.

And that's enough for now.