(grandmother to MacKenzie)
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Today I go hunting for butterfly shadows And I don’t need a tank or a gun There’ll be no need for fear For the master is near As I set out to search for the son. I may find them hiding in a person I meet Butterfly shadows are exquisitely rare Sometimes they’re found floating on a cloud of despair When just out of nowhere their shadows emerge |
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Butterflies No fashion designer has ever made They flit about from flower to flower |
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“I will lend to you awhile” He said
A child to call your own.”
“To nurture and to care for,
Until I call her home.”
“To know her is to know, unconditional love,
This child of mine.” I say
“Thank you God for entrusting me,
With such a gift, I could never repay”.
“I searched far and wide,” He said
For a special family, for who she could belong.”
“Just love her with all your heart,” He said,
And help her to grow strong.”
“She has special needs” He said
And needs a Mama, Strong and True.
To walk with her, and hold her hand,
On this path, she has to go through.”
“She also needs a sister,” He said
To love and stand always by her side.
She looks at her sister, with love, and proudly tells all who listen,
“That’s “My Sister” with a smile.
“Thank you, for this family,” I say
That you have given me to cherish.”
But how can I endure the pain,
When you call her home to rest?”
“I don’t understand, “I say
Why so soon, she had to go?
I thought we had many more sunsets,
To watch as we grew old.”
I miss her smile that greeted me,
With the dawning of each day.
Whatever am I supposed to do,
Without the smile, that lit my way?”
My heart is broken, I feel so lost.
My life stretches before me, never to be the same.
There is an emptiness, that can’t be replaced.
My tears, they fall on my pillow, like rain.
“I know you have questions, Why?” He said
And I know My child, you are in pain.”
“ I see every tear you cry, And catch them,
As they fall down your face like rain.”
“Just know, as you were with her,
As she drew her very last breath,
I was also there to greet her,
As she came into my outstretched arms to rest.”
“Now she is singing in the Angel’s choir,
That beautiful smile upon her face,
I know you couldn’t imagine her to be,
In a more loving place.”
“I Thank God, “I say, “even through my tears”
“For this child of mine from above.”
“For to know her, was to have a gift,
From an Angel that gave me,
Unconditional Love
May 15, 2007
This article was originally published on www.opentohope.com, a website whose mission is to help those who have suffered a loss to cope with their pain and invest in the future.
The first Mother’s Day without our son, Clint, was approaching. He had passed away the summer before, but the weight of grief was still heavy. So far, we had made it through each day by taking one slow, encumbered step at a time. Each morning for several weeks prior to the upcoming holiday, I noticed a little sports-type car parked near my car in the parking garage at work. Apparently, it was parked there on a long-term basis because it started to gather dust. After a while, the thick dust became a target for graffiti- some of which was amusing, and some was distasteful. One was even a negative message to a mother. Despite the fact I did not appreciate some of the comments written on the car, it reminded me of Clint and the activities of young people. The car remained there unmoved and untouched day after day. Considering the anxiety of the impending holiday, I did not give the car too much thought.
When the dreaded Mother’s Day arrived, my husband, Alan and I decided a hike to the top of one of our favorite peaks in the nearby national park. We had been avid hikers, but now even the simplest activity seemed to take more effort and energy than we had. We have had some adventures on our hikes, but this time our only goal was to get past another painful holiday without our youngest son and perhaps to be tired enough to finally get a few hours of peaceful sleep that night.
Just as we arrived in the trail parking area, approximately 35 miles from our home, we decided to take a different route to the top of the trail than the one originally planned. After several hours of uphill hiking, our bodies were beginning to feel the aches and pains. We were beginning to doubt we could even make it to the top because we knew this was not an easy hike. Then we came upon the following message written in large letters in the dirt, Happy Mom’s Day, Love from Your Sons. I was taken aback, and my heart began to beat a little faster. I thought, “Could this be for me?” The rest of the hike my thoughts bounced between belief and disbelief. I could not remember Clint using the words Mom’s Day instead of Mother’s Day, but it would be like him to shorten it. Another point that raised doubt in my mind was the signature of sons instead of son. Then I thought to myself, “After all I do have two sons, perhaps Clint had included his brother in the message.” I had a point and counter-point for each thought. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I thought to myself, “I don’t want to miss a message from my son. But on the other hand, I don’t want to seem like a foolish old woman.” I pondered many thoughts. I could not imagine who else could have left the message, because we had started hiking early and had not encountered any other hikers. Also, none of our family members or friends knew where we were hiking that day.
With little discussion about the message, we continued our way to the top. Once there, we had our lunch. Inside the fire tower, someone had left a book about the area in memory of his or her family and others had turned the book into a journal for recording messages. We left our own little message and cleaned up our lunch items. On a clear day, this hike offers some spectacular views, but this was an overcast day. A little disappointed by the lack of views, we started down the trail. Just then the clouds parted, and the sun came out. For that brief time, we enjoyed God’s beautiful handiwork displayed by nature. The cloud cover returned and silently we hiked back to our car somewhat contented and exhausted. Yet, the nagging doubt of the message remained in my mind.
When we arrived home that evening, we found a card in the mailbox from a friend of Clint’s. The sweet and thoughtful friend had written on the outside of the envelope, “Happy Mom’s Day.” This touched me deeply. I thought, “Could this be my confirmation? Was the use of Mom’s Day instead of Mother’s Day a sign?” The rest of the weekend my thoughts continued to bounce. I wanted the trail message to be for me, but how could I be sure?
Time does not stop for grief and a new workweek began. As I pulled into the parking garage and started to swipe my entry card, I had the quick thought, “If the message along the trail really was for me, the distasteful messages on the car would be gone because I shouldn’t pick and choose which messages are for me.” I park in a large multi-level parking garage, so at this point I could not see the dusty message-laden car. As I turned the corner and continued, I chuckled to myself about my absurd thoughts. “Of course, the distasteful messages would still be there and the whole weekend was just filled with coincidences.”
As I got closer I could see the car was still there, but to my shock all the writing on the car had been wiped clean. It did not appear to have been moved or washed, but it had been cleared of any writing. I had not said anything to anyone about the car or my thoughts, not even my husband. So, I smiled, wiped away the tears, and enjoyed the warm feeling of connection. I joyfully thought to myself as I walked into work that morning, “Okay, I get it. The message on the trail was for me.” For a while that day, the burden of grief would be a little lighter.