Butterflies in Heaven

It is as if I wish to scream out to the Universe, "I feel lonely and alone! Give me validation!"

Death comes.  An unexpected guest.  He takes a loved one away.  And he is gone.  Leaving the living disoriented.  Confused.  Grappling for meaning and there is none.  We live.  Then we die.  It is an ebb and flow.  A natural rhythm.

Sarah was 29.  Great Aunt Minnie Lee was 90.  Sarah was murdered.  Great Aunt Minnie Lee fell, resulting in a brain hemorrhage.  Neither died immediately.  Both spent four days in the hospital before their passage.  Neither could speak during this time.

Sarah died on September 27th.  Minnie Lee died November 17th.

I emoted deep wails of grief after I learned that Sarah had been shot.  It was late at night and I had no regard for my neighbors' ears.  I cried ferociously.  I did not think she would die.  I never thought that.  I was crying at the injustice of a tender girl being maimed by bullets.  I cried at the injustice of Sarah, who had struggled so long with her demons, being drug down by another person's demons.

For the days that followed, I prayed harder than I've ever prayed for anyone or anything.  I prayed for Sarah to be well.  I prayed for the Grace of God, or the Spirit of the Universe to intercede on her behalf and make everything alright.

I did not cry during Sarah's funeral.  I did not cry during the interment of her ashes.  I cried most robustly when greeting the family, when I met her sister, Katie.  Katie and I had become friends on a social networking site but had never met in person.  When I saw her, all I wanted to do was hold onto her for dear life.  For whatever reason, I threw my arms around her as if I'd known her my whole life and sobbed uncontrollably.

I still haven't cried for the loss of Minnie Lee.  I don't know why.

I think it's strange that they both died unexpectedly, they both were relatively healthy until an unforeseeable horror occurred, they both spent four days in the hospital before they died and they both couldn't speak.  Sarah was conscious but could not move.  Minnie Lee was unconscious yet capable of moving her arms and legs.

Great aunt Minnie Lee was the matriarch of the family.  My maternal grandmother died when my mother was 9 years old.  I never felt especially close to the woman who married my grandfather after that.  Minnie Lee was my grandmother's sister.  She was full of the love and sweetness that I am told my grandmother possessed.  She was generous and kind to absolutely everyone.  She accepted everyone with an open heart and loved unconditionally.  I knew, no matter what I did or said, she would always love me.  I just knew.

I never knew her to be angry or to hold a grudge.  I think this was because her faith in God was unshakeable.  If anyone ever wronged her, I can imagine her thinking, as Jesus did on the cross, "Forgive them, Father.  For they know not what they do."  

Minnie Lee was artistic.  She painted in watercolors, acrylics and oil pastels.  She did portraits of people and pets and she painted flowers.  Irises were her favorite.  Purple irises.  It is for that reason that I think of purple when I think of Minnie Lee. I think of purple irises. 

Sarah, too, was a gifted artist.  She also did portraits.  Sarah's favorite color was purple.  She wore it often.

Sarah loved people completely which was evidenced by the completeness of her hugs.  She held a fundamental belief that all people are intrinsically good.  She would see, even in the most difficult people, a spark of light.  Whenever someone hurt her, it sometimes sent her into a tailspin.  It was as if her reality had been shaken at its core.  She mourned for a day or so.  And then she returned to her jubilant state of Love.

Minnie Lee used to crack us up by trying to tell jokes.  She would get halfway through the joke and start laughing before she got to the punch line.  Her laughter was uncontrollable and contagious.  On more than one occasion, I thought my mom would pee in her pants from the sheer abandon of laughter.

Sarah's laugh was distinctively bubbly and highly audible.  When she worked at Planet Care, I could hear her laughter from across the store.  It was a constant.  It was reassuring.  No matter how crappy a day might be, Sarah's laughter made me smile. 

Minnie Lee endured an abusive marriage for many years.  I always thought Uncle Ray was funny.  But if I had known as a child the sorts of things he did and said to Great Aunt Minnie Lee, I would have furiously kicked him in the balls.  Repeatedly. Because no one - no one - should ever hurt such a divine being.  

Uncle Ray developed Alzheimer's and had to be put into a nursing home.  Despite the decades of abuse that she suffered by him, Great Aunt Minnie Lee went to see Uncle Ray twice a day every day until he died.  She bathed him, changed his bedding, fed him.  As if he were the dearest thing in the world to her.

The abuse Sarah suffered at the hands of her husband was the ultimate abuse.  He murdered her.  She chose him - to love and to cherish, and to love and cherish her.  He shot her in the throat and in the shoulder, severing her spinal chord and damaging her larynx.  He then shot himself.  He died right away.  Sarah laid bleeding in the grass of a neighbor's yard. 

I was at Great Aunt Minnie Lee's apartment going through the remaining odds and ends that needed to be cleared out.  Neglected by all other eyes was a tiny wooden box.  It was painted green with a golden inlay and a little brass latch.  I lifted this box and gingerly opened the lid.  On the inside of the lid were two little butterfly stickers: one purple, one chartreuse.

To those who knew and loved her, butterflies have become a symbol of Sarah because of their fragile beauty and short life span. Upon seeing the butterfly stickers inside this green box that belonged to Minnie Lee, I imagined the two of them befriending each other on another plane of existence.  Call it heaven or the Blue Road. I pictured them together, clasping hands, giggling, hugging, shining on us all. Two butterflies in heaven.  Two butterflies on the Blue Road of our Ancestors.  The road home.  Back to the stars.

I tucked this box into my bag and took it home with me.  It lives on my work table.  Whenever I need to feel Sarah's jubilance or Minnie Lee's love, whenever I miss Sarah's laugh or Minnie Lee's pound cake, I open the lid of this magic box and I get a glimpse of their spirits.  It always makes me smile to do this.  Even if the smile is accompanied by a tear.