Farewells

A few weeks ago, Hospice called to let us know Dad was entering into his last stages.  He had been winding down for a long time and often the end stages of the death process can last weeks.  We kept visiting, but did not see a precipitous decline the way my own mother had died.  After some consideration, I decided to take a quick trip to Muskegon while Mike visited Dad.  His first visit found Dad sleeping so he came back in the evening.  Dad was still sleeping so Mike stayed with him about an hour just talking to him.  He decided to go and come back the next day.  Half an hour later, when the aides checked up on Dad, he was gone.

Mike felt he should have stayed longer.  I felt I shouldn’t have gone to Muskegon.  But the truth is, we took good care of Dad, loved him well, and a few days short of his 98th birthday he was ready to go.

The following day found us taking care of business.  Contacting the funeral director, calling friends and family, arranging with my sister-in-law to come and stay with us, contacting the church to arrange the funeral, and by the end of the day we were spent and sad.

I was staring out of my office window when I noticed a butterfly in the back yard.  Frequently, there are monarchs or cabbage whites in our yard but this one was unusual.  It was an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail.  Usually butterflies will flit from plant to plant and then leave.  Photographing them has always proved challenging.  This one stayed in the yard for over twenty minutes.  It was if she were posing for the camera.  I called Mike to see it and we watched for several minutes.  I decided to get my camera and take some photos.  I opened the window, hung out the side of the house and took about fifty shots.

There is a tradition among some that believe that the happy dead in the form of beautiful butterflies will visit their relatives to reassure them.  A sign for those who are grieving.  It is a comforting thought that Dad stopped by to say goodbye.  There are those who would criticize me for being superstitious at this point.  I prefer to look at it as a gentle kiss from God assuring us that all is well.  After all, God is an artist and a poet.

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