I finally finished up reading I Heard the Owl Call my Name by Margaret Craven. What a good book, and it made me weep at the end.

Right before my grandmother died, there were owls hoohooing outside my window every night. It was so creepy, because I'd never heard them before and I haven't heard them since that time.

Owls, in indian lore, are symbols of death, so the story had a personal meaning for me. I hope I never have to hear owls hoohooing again for a long time.