Butterfly Thoughts in Paradise
A black butterfly flutters around me as I write this post. I feel a presence... a haunting presence. But it does not hurt anymore. I can only look back with a smile. It was a life well lived, albeit shortly shared. It deserves a celebration, not an extended lamentation.
The sound of my children's laughter echoes in my ears. They are back from island hopping with their cousins. I hope they will never forget the man whose shortly lived existence showed them what unconditional love really meant... the man whose unabashed display of childish banters made them giggle to tears.
As we take this weekend break with family (James' brothers and their own families), there is no more "what if Dad was here with us?" We no longer feel guilty enjoying life's and nature's bountiful blessings without him.
But as my youngest daughter sees the butterfly, she matter-of-factly states what she thought is obvious: "Dad is here with us." Her face brightens up with the sweetest smile I have ever seen... then she leaves me again to join her siblings and cousins.
Now whenever they look at his photo, they see the smile that used to define his face. In their hearts, the word "Dad" has taken a new form ~~ an angel
My children have finally moved on.
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setting it on a different pace from the rest of the main island.