Butterfly Moment

 My father passed away peacefully in his sleep four years ago this August.  His 96-year-old heart just stopped beating in the wee hours of the morning and he never woke up. The death was not unexpected, given his age and health, but it was devastating all the same. He had always been a tower of strength...even as his body weakened, his spirit stayed determined and seemingly indomitable.  Yet here we were, in a world without him and the grief was, as it always is, difficult to process.

About a month after he died, Tom and I drove to my dad's favorite sunset spot at the lake. We sat on a bench in the late afternoon glow, watching boats and birds play in the magical light as the sun began to set. 

Suddenly, right in front of us, small groups of butterflies began to flit by, seeming to dance in the fading light.  We sat mesmerized as a steady stream of them flew before our eyes in a lovely parade of color and motion that continued for fifteen minutes or so. We looked behind us in the direction they were flying and realized that they had all lighted on one tree... there now appeared to be hundreds of butterflies hanging on the tree, flapping their wings.  We were astounded at the sight and pointed it out to people walking by, who all looked in amazement.

This moment seemed like a gift from God...one of those special "coincidences" that I spoke of last week.  It was an incredibly beautiful sight that felt like just what I needed to soothe my grief--a symbol of transformation and resurrection. In that moment, as we sat in one of his favorite spots, it seemed to be an assurance that my father was still alive, transformed into something beautiful.

I've held that memory in my heart for the past few years, feeling it too precious to share. But this morning, as I was waking, it came to mind with an insistence, perhaps to remind us that spring will come, as it always does and beauty, hope and love live on.