I read a book recently by a popular author whose books I sometimes like, and sometimes think it was a quick fix to fulfill a contract obligation. I found the newest release by chance in the Auckland Airport, and I picked it up, marveling not only at the sheer size of the damn thing, but at the fact that she had a new release and I didn't know it was coming (I am a book spotter-I like trying to keep track of the books of my favorites. I think it's some kind of form of control-freak.)

The book traveled round with me until I finished it and tucked it into a shelf of our much-beloved place in Nelson. I signed the inside cover of the book, like I always do when I leave one behind. I always sign my name, the date, and the home country I bought the book from just because I like to imagine the book will then wing its way around the world on some other journey. I saw I wasn't the only one who thought that way-I opened another book on the shelf and out tumbled a business card of a man in Wellington, who had read his book and left it behind. I replaced both the card and the book (it wasn't my kind of book) and smiled, walking away.

The author's book stayed with me, though. Not the incredible quality of writing, not the fact that I found it in Auckland, not what I wrote on the inside cover (which is, in itself, a shocking thing for me to do as I believe that you should never, ever deface a book or break a spine.) The book stayed with me because of one part of it, a section in the middle that was a few pages long.

The author talked about death, the death of a loved one specifically. She wrote that there are many that think that people come back to touch us in death, to tell us it's ok to go on, that it's ok to love again, ok to grieve in little pieces instead of big chunks that haul us down to the bottom of the river. The book was fiction but it told of a particular story in which a woman was touched by a butterfly, who flitted around the house to specific objects her husband loved but had been left untouched since his death. The story goes that the butterfly was somehow her husband who had come back to remember the best bits, and the butterfly floated near her cheek and then out the window. The widow then felt she could move on, and from then on she maintained that the butterfly was her husband who'd come back to say goodbye. The author backs this up by thinking aloud that people do say goodbye to their loved ones when they go.

What a load of fucking rubbish.

I lost two of the most important people I ever had in my early life-my grandfather and Kim. They both died nearly 7 and 6 years, respectively. They went off into whatever unknown there is and there hasn't been a sign of an insect around to tell me that life can go on, love can go on, and they'll see me on the other side. It just doesn't work that way.

Not like I didn't look for something. I confess with the death of my grandfather I let him go at once-his entire life was filled with pain and suffering from a body that was ill equipped to carry a soul as big as his. I didn't look for signs from him because I really hoped he had gone. He may have left a grieving bunch behind him and I may have lost the only man that ever actually loved me from the beginning to the end of my life, but in terms of stupid sayings I really do think he's gone somewhere better. I hope when he gets there he's greeted by his beloved Collie Tammy, a lovely girl who died by his bedside as she'd fallen off the back of a tractor-trailer and had most of her skin scraped off. He slept by her side and she awoke briefly to crawl forward, lick his hand, and then laid down with him and died. If I had any sign from him, I would hope it would be the sound of his solid hand patting her side as they walked through a field somewhere in eternity.

Kim, on the other hand, wasn't such a straight case. As I've said here before I looked for him everywhere. I didn't believe he was dead, he couldn't be so mediocre, I was sure he was undergoing some metamorphosis and turning into something else, some other creature and personality who was going to surprise me and love me forever. It was several years before I stopped looking for him in crowds, in airports, and on sidewalks. He really did do something as fucking mundane as dying.

Then when I realized I wouldn't find him, I did look for signs. I admit I never turned to the lepidoptera world for guidance, but I did hope to see him in the hallway, in my dreams, in my mirror, a love message in the dust on the bookshelf. I hoped for some kind of assurance that wherever he went, he was ok. I wanted to see that he was himself, he had all the action figures and red-headed stewardesses he'd always dreamt of. Above all, I wanted to know that it was ok for me to love again, that he didn't mind, and that he would love me forever. I wrote this post as some kind of hope for that, some kind of saying goodbye, letting go, making our peace.

These kinds of catharsis, they don't come like that.

The grief is just grief, you can hold it in your hand and wear it like a necklace around your neck, there is nothing to hold your hand and hear them say 'I will always love you'. You can cry rivers of tears but they'll never float you down to where the loss lays. They say religion is a leap of faith but I think saying goodbye is. You have to trust that they've moved on and they'll forgive you for moving on, too.

There are no butterflies, no writing in the dust. The author banging on about them made me a bit angry, made me want to write and say You've never lost anyone, have you? Never. You don't know what it's like to get sucker-punched by a memory, to feel adrift living in the world that they created for you. The ending of her book made me even angrier, (and even potentially put her on my 'I'm not buying another one of your books again ever' list, I'm not sure yet) which I won't go into as no doubt a lot of people reading this blog will read her book and I will have then spilled the beans.

But over time, the sucker punches get softer and softer. The idolatry of the dead passes, they weren't heroes but rather humans who made mistakes as stupid as a cutting word, an affair, even of dying on you. You forgive them their tresspasses just as you forgive them for moving on. You may find that you don't think about them every single day and you don't feel guilty when you realize that. You don't look at the life you lead now and apologize to the dead for it-I know that Kim and my grandfather would want me to be happy. I know that because that's all I would want for them. Maybe that's the definition of real love-you love them so much that all you want is for them to be happy, even if you can't be the one to do it.

My life goes on and I don't feel the need to resolve where my heart was with where it is now. I don't stand by the window of our new house and look out the garden and think: Would Kim be ok with this? I don't pet Gorby and think: Would Alexi, the dog Kim and I had together, mind this new affection? I don't turn the world counter-clockwise to try to see how the past reconciles with the present. This is my life and I love it unconditionally, I can't imagine that Kim wouldn't love it for me.

There are no butterflies.

There never will be.

That doesn't mean I don't have his permission to move on.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:02 AM | Comments (17) | Add Comment
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1 You make me all teary! I lost my mom 7 months ago, I hate that word "lost" like I'll find her again some day? But the last time I talked to her on the phone she said that all she wanted was for me to be happy - and I agree thats real love.

Posted by: Juls at March 30, 2006 12:37 PM (9aRbg)

2 I DID receive a sign from my grandma.... Hope your birthday weekend is happy, and the house doesn't kick you a** too badly.... Love to you.

Posted by: Mitzi at March 30, 2006 12:42 PM (Vp6CN)

3 I'm sorry you didn't receive a 'sign' but I have and I believe others have too. You might argue we imagined our signs and we can argue that you missed your signs or that signs weren't sent to you (not everyone gets or even needs a sign - maybe your departed loved ones believe you're stronger than you believe you are). So there were no butterflies for you but it's kind of cruel to tell the rest of us who believe in butterflies that they don't exist. It's very sad that you should even be questioning whether or not you have the right to be happy, wondering if deceased loved ones would be happy for you for being happy - just be happy! Don't squander the opportunity. In the blink of an eye, something crucial to your happiness could change - another loss of a loved one, a loss of health (not crap like losing a job or a house) and you'll be kicking yourself for not soaking it all up now. Believe me.

Posted by: angela at March 30, 2006 01:33 PM (FlZPw)

4 We will have to disagree on this one. There are signs, if you are open to them.

Posted by: Judy Carrino at March 30, 2006 01:33 PM (2+7OT)

5 I don't know that it's fair to say there is or there aren't signs. It's like God. Just because some feel him and some don't...doesn't make one right and the other wrong. I definitely don't agree that you won't see the signs if you're not open to them. Statements like that are what make people that don't see signs feel like they're missing something. That's not fair and it's not right. My uncle passed away back in '97 leaving twin two year olds behind. He was my favorite uncle and to this day I get an ache in my heart thinking about him. About 4 or 5 years ago, I had a dream where my cousins (his sons) and my aunt had come to visit me and my parents. In my dream, I kept on seeing someone with them. But when I asked them who he was, they didn't know what I was talking about. No one had come with them. Then, all of a sudden, I knew that person was my uncle. When he saw I recognized him, he told me that he just couldn't leave his little boys alone in this world. I don't know if that was his way of saying he'll keep an eye on them or if it was my imagination. I know that I was very much affected by having to watch him beg for his life for the sake of his sons only to have it taken from him anyway. To this day no matter how much I miss him personally, I hurt more for what he's missing. Sorry about the ramble

Posted by: Jadewolff at March 30, 2006 01:59 PM (75szC)

6 I'm not saying that others are mad if they believe in signs, I'm just saying that from where I stand, from what I've seen, there are no signs. If you've had a sign (be it a dream, butterfly, a message in a bottle) then that's fantastic and I'm honestly happy for you. But from where I stand, signs from my own dearly departed? They don't happen. And by the way, losing a job? Massive impact to the loss of happiness. Should never be underestimated (see: sitting in a chair during a cold Swedish winter unable to move/bathe/think/sleep. It really kicked my ass).

Posted by: Helen at March 30, 2006 02:39 PM (+oSRT)

7 Yes, Helen, losing a job can make you unhappy. But when you compare it to death or bad health, it's really just a bump in the road. Believe me, I've been severly unhappy due to bumps in the road in the past but it was all put into perspective later on. When something such as losing a job does profoundly depress a person, it's really a sign of bigger issues. Losing a job is still just losing a job (in most cases - there are always exceptions to everything in life.)

Posted by: angela at March 30, 2006 03:18 PM (FlZPw)

8 I'm not sure how one can say it's cruel to say there are no signs and then turn around and declare with absoluteness that losing a job isn't really losing a crucial building block of happiness. It's all about perspective, folks, and everyone is entitled to their own.

Posted by: amy t. at March 30, 2006 03:47 PM (zPssd)

9 I always flip-flop when it comes to believing in signs... sometimes I do, but most of the time I figure I'm just fooling myself by over-thinking something.

Posted by: amber at March 30, 2006 05:01 PM (hPLdf)

10 Wow. I'm surprised at this post coming from you, Helen. I just figured you of all people would see those signs... True, signs may just be our over-active imagination, but then what if it's not? Perhaps in your case they were there but were so subtle that they couldn't be found. Sometimes I think it isn't even a physical sign, but more a gentle nudge in your mind that lets you know they're still there and watching over you. Your love has carried these people with you for many years - isn't that in itself a sign? A sign of a great love that they shared with you? Carry on, dear Helen, with a life full of promise and joy and light... and know that the love you hold in your heart for these cherished people is enough of a sign to continue.

Posted by: sue at March 30, 2006 06:06 PM (oJmNX)

11 I am with Helen. I have had to bury a lot of people. There was a lot of what I call treasure in some of the events that transpired but there certainly was no magic. I will never see my Mother again and I will never be able to ask Dad what does he think. Does anyone here know the scene from "Shenandoah" where James Stewart is talking to his wife Martha in her grave? Good scene. I can look in the mirror and imagine what Dad thinks but thats the best I'll ever do...I suppose is good enough. Good topic, Helen, as usual. You do shimmer!

Posted by: steve at March 30, 2006 06:11 PM (WBMJJ)

12 Ohhhh-hot topic Helen. As for me, I believe when someone leaves this life, that is it-they are gone. My mom always says that death is the hardest for those who are left behind to live, and while it seems like an obvious and almost stupid statement, I know where she is going. People look for comfort after they lose a loved one. I remember when I was young, my cousin lost her grandmother. While we were playing in the backyard, this bird kept flying by us. She was convinced that it was her grandmother, because it had a little blue on it (her favorite color) and her grandma had loved birds. She became hysterical, and I remember thinking "its just a bird". I think sometimes people look for signs when they are not really there, but if it brings them comfort and helps them move forward, then good for them-it just doesn't have to happen to all of us. I agree with what you said, about saying goodbye being a leap of faith. It is admitting that's all folks-which is a scary notion. I have lost many loved ones, and never recieved a 'sign', and one of the hardest parts of dealing with their death is how I have moved on. I did not die with them, even though a little part of me may have, and I need to move forward. There is always a sense of guilt, but it will consume you if you let it. Good for you for knowing how you feel, and for living your life knowing that those you have loved and said goodbye to just really do want you to be happy.

Posted by: Teresa at March 30, 2006 06:11 PM (zf0DB)

13 I think that the signs are there if we NEED to see them. I mean really need them, not just think we need them. Whether that means that they exist or that we merely believe that we see them. Helen, I know you felt like you needed to have a sign from Kim, but you really didn't. You were able to go on without a reassurance, real or imagined, and I think that means you are strong.

Posted by: caltechgirl at March 30, 2006 07:45 PM (/vgMZ)

14 I think you have a good handle on it.

Posted by: iowaslovak at March 30, 2006 09:44 PM (Nd2VP)

15 Wonderful post. Thanks.

Posted by: Richmond at March 31, 2006 12:46 AM (e8QFP)

16 Â… I disagree, HelenÂ…. I really doÂ…. Â… it really doesn't matter if you see a sign or not.... in the end, it all comes down to perspectives on lifeÂ…. I watched my Father die and I knew he was sad to goÂ… but was better offÂ… and afterwards, it somehow made sense as I looked at his life and how well he lived itÂ… Â… my younger brother, on the other hand, has cancer which will probably kill him earlyÂ… and it seems hard to try to understand why it is happeningÂ… and if, when he dies, will he leave this world having made an impact on life or having truly even lived itÂ… .. but it is not for me to make that judgment on himÂ…. He knows the life he has livedÂ… and the pains and joys he has been throughÂ…. Â… I guess that it is alright to sometimes romanticize the death of someoneÂ…. Even if for our own sanityÂ… after all, they are the ones who are goneÂ… and those of us left behind have to learn to deal and reconcile in our own waysÂ….. ... but I still wish you had seen a sign...

Posted by: Eric at March 31, 2006 02:45 AM (r5XsL)

17 You know, when I lost my grandmother this year, the only woman in my life that I think ever truly understood me or loved me as I am, I knew I had done wrong by not being with her when she passed (though there was no way I could have been), and not speaking to her as often as I could have this year. What I really wanted was her forgiveness, but it was too late. She was gone. But, I have to hope that if there is something after this, she knew me well enough to know how very much I loved her, even if I didn't always use the right words or say it often enough, and that is a comfort. If she's her, she knows. And if she isn't, then, it doesn't matter anymore. And, then, I have to forgive myself and do better with the people who are still here.

Posted by: trouble at April 06, 2006 02:19 AM (R1snG)

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