Signs of Life
My sister, a lover of butterflies and especially the blue ones, died in late July, and I have been missing her something fierce. I cry for her pretty much every day. Some days are better, some days are worse. But at the core of everything, even on days when I am smiling, or trying to, is a deep, deep missing of her.
Yes, as a Methodist born and raised, I believe she's walking with Jesus now. And I can appreciate that. But I suspect it'll be years before I can join them. I think of those long years ahead and I ache with loneliness.
What I would give to hear her voice on the phone just one more time. I want to dream about her and have her tell me that she is OK; no, more than OK; that everything is beautiful where she is. I wish I could send her my camera and she could send me back pictures from there.
And at the same time, there seem to be more butterflies than I may have seen in years. There are blue ones, and orange ones, and little itty-bitty ones. They fly in front of my car. They dance on the drive way. They flit around my shoulders when I walk.
On this day, my husband and I joined dear, old friends for lunch, and then we went for a swim at Whipple Dam. When we returned from our swim, there were blue butterflies (red-spotted purples) all over the ground behind our car.
I took some pictures, and I enjoyed their visit immensely. I miss my sister, but I look for signs of life, and hope, and I find them. Yes, I find them here, there, and everywhere.
Dear sister, I love you and I miss you so. I am so grateful for everything you did, everything you were, everything you taught me. And thank you for sending the butterflies.
The soundtrack song: Neil Diamond, with Signs.