Well, here I am again, guilty as charged, telling my own story, and this is her site, and not mine. But, I think as I do, she will appreciate it, as it is all about her and what I and her other children think. If she is not a butterfly, she should be. How sad, yet good at the same time we remember those that died. We still remember her with so much love, on this weekend of death of loosing her after 2 years.
I really never thought I would write this story, (yet, I wanted to so much) and found the strength to do so, for some reason, who knows why. It seems so outrageous to do so. Who would, or could believe that I still think you might come back this way, as a butterfly, or is it just my way of remembering you? Was it just because I knew you loved the butterflies so much. Or was it really you?
Was it you playing with my grand boys, teasing them while they recognized the beauty of the colors of special wings? Was it just a butterfly that did not care, and perched so they could touch, with no fear, or was it you? I have never seen a butterfly that stood so still while the entire clan of family could caress the beautiful colored wings of black and gold and blue, and the butterfly did not move. What a brave butterfly, so unafraid of the human touch. Was it you?
It really does not matter, the thought was there. The things you represented, the care and love shared. From you, no longer here, but near. At least my mind goes there. Maybe I need to go there, with you, wherever you are. It was probably just a brave butterfly, sharing nature and love. And while it did, I was thinking of you. It was so much like you. Did you know we miss you and love you. And always will?
My butterfly Mom, whom you always said you would be. I see you better now than ever before. The beauty of the butterfly wings, the delicate of flights, and colors on flowers that bring us joy. So many stories you tell, with your Butterfly Wings of Love.
Gosh! How did I miss this one? Yes, I remember you wrote to me and said something about that you would post a poem/story about the butterfly, I had been so busy with everything else, and of course my mind was wayyyyy oooofffff to somewhere lately....
I know butterflies can be spiritual. I wouldn't be surprised if that was your mom who had come to watch over your grandchildren. A very good account of the fun with your grandchildren, and your expression of love for your mother is well-told in this wonderful story. Great job, Katie!
Oh Katie, this is so beautiful...I lost my father two months ago, and can relate to your loss. This brought tears to my eyes. Michelle
Reviewed by PAULA LESLIE
8/27/2005
What a beautiful way of expressing your love, while consoling and helping others cope with their loss. Whatever form we choose to believe that our loved ones have become helps us cope with not having that person in pictures with family, hugs to help us through the day or letters of love and hope. We cope with our loss the best way we can.
We must also remember that no matter what "form" we believe them to be, that they are always strong in our hearts and that kind of love can never be stolen, only shared with others. Thank you so much for sharing these wonderful thoughts of your memory and the experience you had with your grandsons.
From your story I can just picture the beautiful butterfly, you and your grandsons standing there in awe and fascination, thinking of your mom and their great-grandma with loving thoughts. My thoughts and prayers are always with you. I will be anxciously waiting for some more wonderful memories. Your good friend, Paula
Let this coming of age story of a boy named Bean take you back to a simple time. Set in a small southern town in the 1960's, encircled by a river and gleaming white cotton fields.
Let this coming of age story of a boy named Bean take you back to a simple time. Set in a small southern town in the 1960's, encircled by a river and gleaming white cotton fields.
The familiar lament of dual-career parents raising children is, "I just can't do it all." The Libra Solution provides an alternative - a more satisfying and sustainable work and life approach - to the overwrought modern day norm.
