Of Butterflys

| posted in: life 

I feel more connected to Michele and to myself this afternoon. Somehow the memorial this morning removed the block I had that was preventing me from reaching her fully. Pete saw a monarch butterfly come into the table with her pictures and urn, circle it and then flit off to the side. He said, and he is a confirmed agnostic, that he felt a shiver go up his spine and he knew that Michele, whom I call Tinkerbell, was there in that moment. How appropriate that she use a butterfly when she was always Tink to me.

Later while the bagpipes were playing Amazing Grace the breeze picked up and I felt her brush across my face. Having the memorial my way, and in my time, allowed me to day the goodbye in public that I needed to start moving again. Over time I will say goodbye to her in private. Only goodbye isn’t the proper word. I will never truly let go of her, so what I am doing is saying fare thee well, and Godspeed to your essence on its journey home.

Author's profile picture

Mark H. Nichols

I am a husband, cellist, code prole, nerd, technologist, and all around good guy living and working in fly-over country. You should follow me on Mastodon.