Butterflies

"With a butterfly, floatin' on the wind

Protectors and collectors, women, children, and men

I believe, in my soul, when it's my time

I'll take a ride on the wings of a butterfly" ~ Tracy Lawrence

For years, I have encountered butterflies in the most fortuitous places: drifting amongst the bellowing fans in the bleachers at Yankees Stadium, soaring over our boat in the middle of the Long Island Sound far from the shoreline, and even casually fluttering amongst the chaos of the tarmac while boarding a flight at LaGuardia.

These butterfly sightings have served as conspicuous reminders to me of loved ones who have passed. They have become gentle and often unexpected interruptions that have prompted me to stop what I am doing, if even just for a moment, to reflect. Every time I happen upon these striking, graceful creatures, or should I say when they happen upon me, I allow myself to reminisce and to feel the warmth that my memories provide.

My husband was acutely aware of these butterfly sightings and their contemplative significance for me. Chris would often point them out, especially when their visits took place in the most implausible locations. He too used these bewildering butterfly visits as an opportunity for reflection. In fact, a few years ago he gifted me a stunning, yet understated necklace with two small butterfly pendants, which I rarely take off. It has become a cherished reminder of my mom and my sister who have passed, and also prompts me to take pause throughout the day to reflect on the love I have shared and be grateful for it.

Since my husband’s death, these mystifying butterfly sightings have continued. They still manage to interrupt me at the most unexpected times, and I continue to appreciate the opportunities that they provide to pause and remember; however, recently their meaning has deepened.

The Butterfly's Journey

Now when I see a butterfly, I continue to be reminded of my loved ones, but I also contemplate the journey and evolution that the awe-inspiring creature has undertaken. I reflect on her humble beginnings, her start as a caterpillar. I admire her determination to wrap herself up and to go within. I am motivated by her ability to persist, despite not knowing what the future holds or what she will become. Ultimately, I am in reverence of her unwavering capacity to emerge forever changed, markedly stronger, more graceful, and ready to take flight.

For me, my grief journey has been a progression of sorts, much like the caterpillar. During my darkest days, I discovered that I needed to wrap myself up, to go within and experience my grief in solitude recognizing, as David Kessler asserts, "you have to feel it to heal it." In doing so, however, I discovered a strength that I didn’t previously know existed. I unearthed a level of gratitude that I didn’t know was possible. I uncovered a stunning, newfound commitment to joy and happiness. While I am inherently still the same person who I was before my husband’s death, much like a butterfly I have emerged notably changed, distinctly stronger, and ready to ascend to new levels of being.

I have learned that our desire to turn back the clock, and our desperate, hopeless attempts to revert to the comfort of the past, actually prevents us from moving forward after a loss or trauma. Much like the butterfly, we never forget the past, our evolution, or our journey, but we cannot go back to who we were before. With that in mind, my commitment has become to find meaning and value in my post-traumatic growth. Even when it is difficult, I embrace this newfound sense of my own strength and resilience, my resolution to deep gratitude, my capacity to love more fiercely than ever before, and my renewed focus on supporting others as they navigate their own grief and trauma.

Called to Change

In Broken Open, Elizabeth Lesser contends that “we too must go through such a time, when life as we know it is over – when being a caterpillar feels somehow false and yet we don’t know who we are supposed to become. All we know is that something bigger is calling us to change.”

I recognize that when we are called to change by trauma, it is heartbreakingly difficult and never how we had planned our lifepaths to evolve. Yet, when trauma comes at us like a freight train, we can steady ourselves by going within, wrap ourselves in the healing shroud of a metaphorical chrysalis, and emerge with more beauty, more grace than we had ever envisioned. Similar to the early days following a trauma, in their initial stages butterflies are certainly not defined by beauty, yet their mysterious transformation provides the perfect metaphor for change, hope, and living again.

Living in the wake of grief and trauma is definitely not always smooth sailing. It is ugly, messy, painful, and disruptive. Yet, if we wrap ourselves up, allow ourselves to go deeply within, and continue to forge ahead, the resulting metamorphosis can lift us to altitudes of living that we likely never imagined possible.

Love & Light,