Today I begin a trip down a road I wish I could avoid – the anniversary of my mother’s death. Twenty-nine butterflies will accompany me, one every day until I meet once more the very moment when she paused, looked back, and left behind whatever it was that was holding her here.
Was it only a year ago? How are you holding up?
Hugs to you, honey. Know that I’m feelin’ it with you, as I travel through my own anniversaries of parental loss. It still hurts, but differently, as the years go by.
I admire how you have documented your process in the journey you are making into the orphan stage of adult life. I admire your courage to put your most tender feelings out there for us to read.
Thank you for sharing this with us.
You are loved. You….are a beautiful butterfly, my dear.
Several things. I thought, perhaps, your “Oh dear” post was in reference to what you had to start today 🙂
I cannot believe it has already been a year since your mom started making beautiful art somewhere else that we cannot see (or maybe she is and she’s just not into signing her name anymore).
Isn’t it funny how “butter” turns “fly” into a beautiful thing, verses a gross pesky creature that lives on dead animals? Huh. No matter the reason, I’m glad for it. And we will see them soon outside 🙂
A poignant reminder. I can only imagine Barbara is watching Jon
Stewart via satellite somewhere. Remember that auspicious day
we collected a bag of yellow butterflies in Paoli shortly after?
I send you both love……….
I’m glad you’re doing this, and I look forward to reading it. I think I recognize that white blanket…