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The Blue Butterfly
By Sherry B. True
It was the morning after the passing of my
Dad and we were all sitting out on the back
porch watching the sun come up numb from the
night before. The months before his death
had been taxing on the whole family,
especially my mother and my sister. They had
become the main care givers to my father in
his final days. We were all physically and
emotionally drained. Because I lived out of
state I went home every couple of weekends
to give everyone a break. The rides back to
Maryland were often heartbreaking because I
never knew when I was going to get “the
call” to come home. I had always hoped to be
with him when he decided to transition home.
Dad had been diagnosed with prostate cancer
9 years earlier and had surgery to remove
the cancer at that time. After the surgery
the doctor said they were unable to get all
of it but there were options my father could
consider after he recuperated. He opted to
not do anything. For him it was probably the
best choice. He was one of the strongest men
I knew. It wasn’t a physical strength as
much as it was an inner strength. My Mother
always said it was from his training as a
Marine that he was so tough. I think it was
more the spirit of the man than the Marine
training.
He enjoyed life and was the kind of person
that would often do things for other people
and not mention it to anyone. We come from a
small town in upstate New York and a lot of
old fashioned values are still in place. It
is a place where neighbors still helped
neighbors. It wasn’t until his funeral that
we, as his family, realized just how many
peoples’ lives he touched. Hundreds of
people were there, more than the average
number of people who showed up for a funeral
in this small town. They were all sharing
their stories with my Mom about things my
father had done for them and how much his
acts of kindness meant to them.
The last two years of his life he was in
more pain than he had let on. He was slowing
down more, becoming more forgetful and
cranky. Being a stubborn German he refused
to go back to the doctor until the pain was
unbearable. Finally when he could no longer
deal with the pain he and my mother went to
the doctor. It was decided that they would
opt for chemo treatment to see if they could
get the spreading cancer under control. A
few months later they returned to the doctor
after several treatments only to find out he
had stage four cancer and there was nothing
else they could do for him. He was
immediately put on hospice.
In his mind he was always going to beat it.
It wasn’t until two weeks before he passed
with tears in his eyes that he told my Mom
he was done and he knew he wasn’t going to
win this battle. They both held each other
and cried. They had been married for almost
50 years and life as they both knew it would
soon never be the same. He wasn’t a
religious man or even a spiritual man, but
he did have faith right up until the end. We
were raised Catholic and when push came to
shove I know he prayed and held onto his
faith to get him through.
I got “the call” from my brother early on
that Wednesday morning that I needed to come
home. It felt like that trip was one of the
longest drives I had made from Maryland to
New York. It was all pretty much a blur as I
relived memories of my Dad. I arrived in New
York at about 1:30 pm. Because of hospice he
was able to stay in the home where he had
grown up and where we as children had grown
up.
As I approached him I could see he was
totally out of it due to the medicine needed
to help with the pain. He was covered in
bruises and morphine patches. He was so
bloated from the steroids he barely looked
like the man I knew. My sister held his hand
and told him I was there. I leaned over so
he could see me. I could see him straining
through his film covered eyes to see me. His
last words to me were, “I thought you were
your sister.” It was the last words he would
ever say in this physical world. Because he
now had his whole family there he began the
final journey home.
The priest from the local church came in
shortly after I arrived that afternoon to
provide him his last rites. The rest of the
evening I sat with him and kept telling him
it was O.K. to go home now. My mother,
brother and sister had done the same earlier
in the day. There was nothing except his
will keeping him earth-bound. Twelve hours
after I arrived, my Dad passed in the
comfort of his home with his family
surrounding him. His spirit now rests with
the Divine Father and Mother.
As we sat around the glass top patio table
drinking coffee early that morning after,
there appeared an iridescent blue butterfly
fluttering around. He came out of nowhere
and came to light beside my arm that was
resting on the table top. He was
magnificent! I had not seen a butterfly come
that close before and just sit there. Even
with all the movement and talking going on
at the table the butterfly didn’t budge. He
stayed for quite a long time. It was as if
he had a message to give and wouldn’t leave
until his message was given. As I studied
him I could feel the presence of my Dad and
the feeling that this was his sign to me
that he was fine now, the transformation had
taken place. It was shortly after that
communication to me that the butterfly
happily took off. The rest of the week I was
home for the funeral and not once did I see
the blue butterfly again. Until 1 year
later.
I was tuning 50 in August and had asked my
Dad for a gift for my birthday, just so that
I knew he was still around, even though I
knew he was. The day was almost over and I
was taking the mail to the mail box outside
of work when right in front of me flew the
same iridescent colored blue butterfly! I
had not seen one in the area before. Tears
stared to roll down my cheeks as I realized
my Dad had once again sent the blue
butterfly as his messenger. I thanked my
father for the gift. There was a sense of
contentment knowing he was still around and
finally at peace.
There would be other signs he showed to
other members of the family following the
two weeks after he passed. He wreaked havoc
in the house by blowing lights out and
messing with the plumbing in the kitchen. He
also left one of his treasured beer steins
in the center of the den for my mother and
brother to find. My brother had taken my Mom
to get groceries and upon returning they
found the stein sitting straight up in the
middle of the floor in the den with the top
open. All his steins were displayed on
shelves that sat high up near the ceiling.
If the stein had fallen it surely would have
shattered and not have landed upright. To
this day they are still looking for a
logical answer. They are not too keen on
believing in the spiritual side of life.
For me however the blue butterfly will
forever be a message from my Dad, letting me
know spirit does live on and we are all
connected and continually loved by our loved
ones on the other side. We are given
presents everyday by spirit. It is in these
gifts that we are able to re-member and feel
our direct loving connection to source. |
