Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Purple Butterflies

In the spring of last year, I noticed that the books coming into my life were frequently about death, books like No Death, No Fear by Thich Nhat Hanh and Home With God by Neale Donald Walsh. I thought, “I wonder who’s going to die?” I didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

I must back up and tell you that I subscribe to the Theory of Random Books. My theory goes like this: Books find their way to me for a reason. I might have a book for years and not read it, but when I finally crack the cover, it usually speaks directly to something in my life. I do my best to buy books randomly. I also get them from friends or read them at the library, and I love it when I’m a book club member because I sometimes forget to respond to the selection of the month. When those books arrive, it’s a total surprise. I got a book on coincidences that way (The Three “Only” Things by Robert Moss).

At any rate, in the spring of last year I could feel something coming. It was like the smell of the desert before the rain comes; bold and strong, announcing the arrival of something rare… and big. I kept my receipt for an audio copy of Eckhart Tolle’s The New Earth because the purchase coincided with the arrival of my mother’s final days. When I walked through the door to her apartment that afternoon, I knew the rain had arrived in a monsoon.

Going out of this world is like coming into it: messy, painful, and experienced in varying degrees of difficulty. I knew only one thing for certain. I knew my mother would go on, just not in a form that I could hug. I’ve felt her with me on many occasions, but when I see purple butterflies, I know she’s here.

Not long before my mother passed on, there was a conversation about purple butterflies in her hospice room. My mother was unable to talk or communicate with us at that point, but I knew she could hear us. Moments after she passed away, I encountered my first purple butterfly.

A whole mess of butterflies, actually, in wall hangings and prints on the walls of the hospice’s hallways that I had not noticed before. A huge bronze butterfly sat outside in a courtyard, which I had not seen at all. Purple butterflies started turning up with increasing regularity from that point forward. Now every time I see one, I think, Hi there, Mom.

Recently, I had a chance to visit with an old friend who lost her young daughter in a tragic accident about five years ago. She believes, as I do, that those we love stay with us in many ways after they die. Maybe you’ve heard the saying, “If someone you love has died, now you know the name of one of your guardian angels”? I shared my purple butterfly story with her, and my friend was flabbergasted. She was wearing the purple butterfly necklace that her little girl had given her; she told me her daughter had a special love for them.

I took it as another hello from beyond, only doubled this time.
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Picture courtesy of Fercozzz at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1126125

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