At the funeral of a little girl, the whole town gathered to bid her a final farewell. The sad faces of parents and friends reflected the gravity of the moment — everyone was crying. The priest had begun reading words of comfort when suddenly a black crow appeared. It silently landed directly on the small coffin, its feathers gleaming in the sunlight and its eyes shining with a strange light. The people present froze. Someone screamed, others stepped back. Some tried to chase the bird away, throwing stones at it.
During the girl’s funeral, a black crow unexpectedly landed on the coffin, and within seconds, everyone stared at the bird in horror.
At that moment, the girl’s mother lifted her head, looked at the crow, and her face froze in an expression of recognition.
— It’s him… she whispered. It’s the same crow. He always came into our yard.
People turned around, surprised. The woman stepped forward and, through her tears, said loudly:
— Our daughter used to feed him. Almost every day. He came to the balcony and waited for her to bring him bread. She said he was her friend. She used to draw him — me, my husband… and him. He was always in her drawings.
Remembering this, she pulled a folded drawing from her bag — she had kept it all this time. On the paper, in a child’s hand, three people were drawn: mom, dad, and the little girl, and beside them, a black bird with kind eyes. They all had wing-arms, as if they were one and the same family.
— He came to say goodbye, said the mother with a now calm voice. He’s not just a crow. He remembered her.
People stood frozen in deep silence, unable to say a single word. This story had touched a sensitive chord in each of them.
And the crow, as if it had heard her words, bowed its head in a gesture of respect. After a long pause, it spread its wings, flew off, and disappeared behind the trees.
