Butterfly
So much could be said about this journey. So much has been said. So much has yet to be uttered.
Tonight, in doing my laundry, I lost one of my last tangible gifts from Owen – a butterfly pin he and Lea gave me on my 52nd birthday – the last birthday I spent with him. I left the pin attached to a sweater I wore a few days ago, that I washed tonight in preparation for a business trip to New York this coming Saturday. When retrieving the sweater from the dryer, I lifted one wing, then another out of the cylinder drum. I searched the floor for the other two wings, and as grace would have it, found them. I now have four pieces of metal, that used to signify, when in a single piece of art, my own transformation, predicted by my son, my family. I was destroyed, at first.
I had to let go of my attachment to sacred “things” tonight. This took some time, you understand. Things do not make my life whole. People do. My relationship to the earth, and all that that entails makes my life whole. I could get micro here…dirt, creepy crawlers, and the fishes that swim in the sea. Not to mention the one-legged plants, the four-legged animals, and those entities I cannot see.
I was fortunate to spend time with Nat this evening. Just seeing his face was enough. But, in hugging him, I was reminded, yet again, that what makes my life whole is my relationships with my family and friends. He is my family and my friend. He is the beauty in any given day.
Sacred objects are just that – objects. They signify memories, wants, desires, prayers, omens. Yet, they are not the invisible convergence with souls, nor spirit. They are reminders. Reminders are fleeting, yet poignant.
The butterfly is my reminder of transformation, freedom, and courage. What is the butterfly for you?
I had a beautiful night with classmates recently in the woods just south of my home. I invited them to use their bodies as drums, to beat their hands on their legs, their arms, their chests, in communion with music. I remember teaching Owen how to pat his hands on his legs, on the table, on the door handles of the car, to always be with the music. I thought it would save us all. It saves me still. This was the music from a few nights ago…
the other day as I came into the house I sat and looked at the keychain with my “S” and my daughter’s “S” the only two things on the chain besides the keys. Mine is is solid silver S for my name Stephanie and hers is a silver S with shiny rhinestones in it for Seanna. Seanna died on August 11th, 2007, and that’s how I started following your blog. Out of a keen sympathy for a mother who understands. She was with someone else when she died and she did not have to die. It was obscene carelessness. And like you, justice has never been served and likely never will. But to that shiny S….
the other day I wept as I saw that a few of the rhinestones had fallen out. She was autistic, you see, and like Owen such a supreme lover of music, loving so many of the tunes he loved knowing all of the words and often having us play them over and over for her especially at bed. But I bought the shiny S for her to carry just like my S. She was so happy to have one like mine. To see it diminished in any way was like a stabwound to my heart. Like losing her again somehow. Damn, you know? I also want to say that I am not things, that my love for her is not mere things, but…there are some things…
My sincerest love…
Stephanie
wwww.worthworks.com
Shortly after Ben died I had a young friend over in the evening and we were chatting in the kitchen. She told me of her belief that butterflies represent transformation. She said they were appearing out of nowhere after her grandmother died. She felt it was a gift from the other side. I had those thoughts in mind when I was wandering aimlessly around an indoor flea market in amish country nearby. I came upon a woman who made handbags. I glanced through her wares and happened upon a beautiful gold bad covered in iridescent butterflies. I snatched it up and headed for the register. As I was paying the overwhelming sorrow that was my companion swept over me. I began to sob as I was paying the woman. I never explained to her what was wrong. I could not speak. She must have thought I had severe buyers remorse or something. I was just so overcome by the thought of the transformation that had taken place in my life. Benjamin is here always…in so many places. My butterfly bag is a reminder of the changes in life. I firmly believe that matter never dies….it just changes form. What form my child is in now is a mystery. I choose to believe, though, that he is in everything bright and beautiful. He was my light, my inspiration, my laughter. Wherever he is, I am certain it is just as beautiful as he is.
Kay
Hi Kay,
I can’t tell you enough about what it’s like to be on this journey. That’s a lesson for you to learn. You are, indeed, learning it well, no doubt. Butterfly medicine is certainly something Native Americans and other tribal cultures have gifted us. Transformation is a time and space unlike any other. I live my life here, within the context of transformation. I would not have it otherwise. I welcome my exposure to the the things I could not have known, had Owen not left me to it. He did. I am thankful. I would love to see the image of your dear son, Ben. If I can’t, I will imagine his face is smiling, knowing, caring. Only the butterfly knows, for sure. In my imagined version of your sightings (or dreams), I see him as laughter. Just that. I’m sure you can still hear his voice. I know this, because I can still hear Owen’s laugh. Sweet. Grounded. Certain.
Blessings on your journey, Kay.
Linda
I suppose I have nothing of depth to say right now about this post specifically, but that I thought of you guys recently and that I hope you and the rest of your family are doing well.
for benjamin
with a heaviness of heart
that i have never felt,
i stare into my life
and to the cards i have been dealt.
the fog in front of me
still clouds my waking brain,
i so want to return
to a life not steeped in pain.
the films inside my heart
play on with scenes of old…
of the child i was so blessed with
and long so now to hold.
the heart i knew so dearly
beats on in other realms,
the voice that was my music
in silence overwhelms.
to move in forward motion…
seems foreign without him.
the light he brought unto me
has flickered and grown dim.
as the tide of life moves forward,
the waves echo the strain…
of the wild and reckless spirit
whose impression still remains.
-edna kay probert
12/25/2010
for my beloved son,
benjamin emerson probert
4/17/1987 – 12/8/2010
God be with you till we meet again!
I know your words as my own, Kay. Blessings on your journey. We are many here. I hear you, I read your words, I know your son, Ben, knows your love. We will, indeed, meet again. Ben, will indeed, meet you in your dreams, in your heartfelt moments of silence and breath. I believe he is with you as the energy he afforded you in this life. You gave him everything. Now, he gives you, All. In love and light, Linda.
Great post. I have recently lost my son. Quite different circumstances than you, but I am hanging on to a number of sacred objects. You are right about the important things being the relationships in our lives, but right now I feel comfort and security hanging on to those sacred objects. I know that like you, a day will come in my journey where I will have to let go of those material things as well. Thanks for writing the blog you never wanted to write.
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