The Blue Butterfly

It was the morning after the passing of my Dad and we were all sitting out on the back porch watching the sun come up numb from the night before. The months before his death had been taxing on the whole family, especially my mother and my sister. They had become the main care givers to my father in his final days. We were all physically and emotionally drained. Because I lived out of state I went home every couple of weekends to give everyone a break. The rides back to Maryland were often heartbreaking because I never knew when I was going to get “the call” to come home. I had always hoped to be with him when he decided to transition home.

Dad had been diagnosed with prostate cancer 9 years earlier and had surgery to remove the cancer at that time. After the surgery the doctor said they were unable to get all of it but there were options my father could consider after he recuperated. He opted to not do anything. For him it was probably the best choice. He was one of the strongest men I knew. It wasn’t a physical strength as much as it was an inner strength. My Mother always said it was from his training as a Marine that he was so tough. I think it was more the spirit of the man than the Marine training.

He enjoyed life and was the kind of person that would often do things for other people and not mention it to anyone. We come from a small town in upstate New York and a lot of old fashioned values are still in place. It is a place where neighbors still helped neighbors. It wasn’t until his funeral that we, as his family, realized just how many peoples’ lives he touched. Hundreds of people were there, more than the average number of people who showed up for a funeral in this small town. They were all sharing their stories with my Mom about things my father had done for them and how much his acts of kindness meant to them.

The last two years of his life he was in more pain than he had let on. He was slowing down more, becoming more forgetful and cranky. Being a stubborn German he refused to go back to the doctor until the pain was unbearable. Finally when he could no longer deal with the pain he and my mother went to the doctor. It was decided that they would opt for chemo treatment to see if they could get the spreading cancer under control. A few months later they returned to the doctor after several treatments only to find out he had stage four cancer and there was nothing else they could do for him. He was immediately put on hospice.

In his mind he was always going to beat it. It wasn’t until two weeks before he passed with tears in his eyes that he told my Mom he was done and he knew he wasn’t going to win this battle. They both held each other and cried. They had been married for almost 50 years and life as they both knew it would soon never be the same. He wasn’t a religious man or even a spiritual man, but he did have faith right up until the end. We were raised Catholic and when push came to shove I know he prayed and held onto his faith to get him through.

I got “the call” from my brother early on that Wednesday morning that I needed to come home. It felt like that trip was one of the longest drives I had made from Maryland to New York. It was all pretty much a blur as I relived memories of my Dad. I arrived in New York at about 1:30 pm. Because of hospice he was able to stay in the home where he had grown up and where we as children had grown up.

As I approached him I could see he was totally out of it due to the medicine needed to help with the pain. He was covered in bruises and morphine patches. He was so bloated from the steroids he barely looked like the man I knew. My sister held his hand and told him I was there. I leaned over so he could see me. I could see him straining through his film covered eyes to see me. His last words to me were, “I thought you were your sister.” It was the last words he would ever say in this physical world. Because he now had his whole family there he began the final journey home.

The priest from the local church came in shortly after I arrived that afternoon to provide him his last rites. The rest of the evening I sat with him and kept telling him it was O.K. to go home now. My mother, brother and sister had done the same earlier in the day. There was nothing except his will keeping him earth-bound. Twelve hours after I arrived, my Dad passed in the comfort of his home with his family surrounding him. His spirit now rests with the Divine Father and Mother.

As we sat around the glass top patio table drinking coffee early that morning after, there appeared an iridescent blue butterfly fluttering around. He came out of nowhere and came to light beside my arm that was resting on the table top. He was magnificent! I had not seen a butterfly come that close before and just sit there. Even with all the movement and talking going on at the table the butterfly didn’t budge. He stayed for quite a long time. It was as if he had a message to give and wouldn’t leave until his message was given. As I studied him I could feel the presence of my Dad and the feeling that this was his sign to me that he was fine now, the transformation had taken place. It was shortly after that communication to me that the butterfly happily took off. The rest of the week I was home for the funeral and not once did I see the blue butterfly again. Until 1 year later.

I was tuning 50 in August and had asked my Dad for a gift for my birthday, just so that I knew he was still around, even though I knew he was. The day was almost over and I was taking the mail to the mail box outside of work when right in front of me flew the same iridescent colored blue butterfly! I had not seen one in the area before. Tears stared to roll down my cheeks as I realized my Dad had once again sent the blue butterfly as his messenger. I thanked my father for the gift. There was a sense of contentment knowing he was still around and finally at peace.

There would be other signs he showed to other members of the family following the two weeks after he passed. He wreaked havoc in the house by blowing lights out and messing with the plumbing in the kitchen. He also left one of his treasured beer steins in the center of the den for my mother and brother to find. My brother had taken my Mom to get groceries and upon returning they found the stein sitting straight up in the middle of the floor in the den with the top open. All his steins were displayed on shelves that sat high up near the ceiling. If the stein had fallen it surely would have shattered and not have landed upright. To this day they are still looking for a logical answer. They are not too keen on believing in the spiritual side of life.

For me however the blue butterfly will forever be a message from my Dad, letting me know spirit does live on and we are all connected and continually loved by our loved ones on the other side. We are given presents everyday by spirit. It is in these gifts that we are able to re-member and feel our direct loving connection to source.

~~Sherry B. True
Spirit Paws