Butterflies

[Janet]

I've thought for many years now that my Dad sends butterflies around me. I have them lite on me many, many times. Whenever I see one close, I just know my Dad sent it to me.

While I was going through some of the pictures my hubby's half sister left in the storage unit, I kept thinking how nice it would be to have more pictures of my dad. Then I would tell myself NO...that would mean something happened to my mother because she has most of them.

Right after I was thinking of this....I opened a box and there were the most beautiful gold butterflies for hanging on the wall. I started crying of course, but pulled myself together. Thoughts would run back to my dad and again, pulled a little box out of a sack and in it were labels with butterflies on them.

I finally just settled down and talked with my dad for awhile. I hadn't really sat down and talked with him for some time and it felt so good, feeling like he was close.

Just goes to show that even though I was angry at Samantha (SIL), and upset that she was going to let these family photos just be tossed by the storage unit manager, I was given time to just sit and visit with my Dad. After all these years, I still miss him so much.

[Dobie]

It's nice that you were able to turn a difficult situation into a moment that you could have fond memories of your Dad!

[gja1000]

I do believe the butterflies are "sent" by your dad. I'm glad you were able to have that experience today. I'm sorry it made you cry, but it sounds like you were able to have some good memories. When my uncle died, a scissor-tailed fly catcher (his favorite bird) flew right beside the car right at our eye level for about half a mile that my aunt and I were in as we left the cemetery after his burial. We just know it was him telling us that everything is OK!

[HALEY]

Aww sending you hugs Janet, we all need to cry sometimes Janet!

[Janet]

Originally Posted by gja1000

I do believe the butterflies are "sent" by your dad. I'm glad you were able to have that experience today. I'm sorry it made you cry, but it sounds like you were able to have some good memories. When my uncle died, a scissor-tailed fly catcher (his favorite bird) flew right beside the car right at our eye level for about half a mile that my aunt and I were in as we left the cemetery after his burial. We just know it was him telling us that everything is OK!

How cool was that???? I hope it made you both feel better. I know when the butterflies come so close to me that it just makes my whole day better.

[Tiramisu]

I've been having more little cries lately. I start thinking about my Mom and I miss her so much. Then I'll start thinking about my Dad and how much I miss him. I feel so old without my parents.

Last night, I was having trouble getting into the tub (keeping the cast dry while sitting in a plastic patio chair) and I just sat there and had a good little bawl. Hubby thought I had hurt myself, but I was feeling sorry for myself.

My Dad sends me hawks. They come sit nearby and just watch me while I'm working outside. I swear I never saw one here when he was alive. I hope my Mom sends me butterflies!

[Lindsey]

I just love all these stories!
For some reason, I feel close to my grandpa. We weren't particularly close before he passed away, but I knew he was always very very proud of me. And my grandma still tells me to this day "Your grandpa would be so proud" and I just feel like saying "I know" because I just FEEL it. He passed away when I was only 10 years old, and I remember when he passed I kept thinking of his voice in my head, the way he said things, because I didn't want to forget. And I'm sad now that I'm starting to forget. I think as proud as he was of me, I'm proud of him too!
He survived WWII and he farmed and held down as many jobs as he could to support my grandma and the kids. I just love listening to my grandma and my dad tell stories about him. When I went to that psychic, she told me there are two spirits with me, and I just know that one is him. Ahhh I'm starting to get teary at work now! I've never really talked about that before.

[Janet]

Well, Lindsey, you know you can always talk about it here. I love feeling that my dad is close. I wish I could feel that way about my sister. She passed away in 1980, 3 days before her 40th birthday. She was 15 years older than I and I was just getting to know her better as adults when she passed. I just never feel her near...I wonder why????

[Lindsey]

I feel the same way Janet. I've had relatives pass that I was closer to, and who knew me for longer, and I just feel like they're gone, whereas I feel my grandpa is with me.

[Tiramisu]

Want a story? My Dad's Mom was a very strong matriarch to many people in our community, especially her g-kids. My first g-kids are twin g-sons born at 6 months, weighing 2.4 and 2.8 pounds. They were lifeflighted to a neonatal unit (70 miles away) and in guarded condition, not expected to live. My daughter would sit with them during the day, I would stay in the evening (after work), and my SIL would sleep at the hospital at night. My schedule was that I would drive 30 miles to work, drive 40 miles to hospital (for about 6 hours), then drive 70 miles home each night (late).

The babies were in beds next to each other so I would sit between them and go back and forth talking and touching them. After a couple months of doing this, co-workers, nurses and doctors were commenting that I needed to take a night off. A doctor came and was literally leading me out of the ICU. When I looked back at the baby boys, I saw an image of my Grannie Susie sitting there between them, in my place.

I drove home and had a wonderful night's sleep. I called to tell my Dad and he bellowed out, "Oh, I wish I could have been there!" Nobody has ever questioned my vision because lots have had similar ones of her.

BTW, Andrew and Brandon were 17 years old this past Monday.

[Lindsey]

That's a great story!

[Janet]

WOW Sandy that is a great story. I understand what you're feeling though about being old. I don't want to lose my mother, but never thought I'd be taking care of her. I don't mind, but I have to have a good cry myself now and then.

[DianaB]

My Dad's been gone a couple of years now but I don't have anything that shows up, like a connection. He told me once that if there was any way that he could contact me that he would and that I was to watch for some sign from him, but...........I don't think that it can happen. Anyway not for me.

This is a neat story that was in Reader's Digest that goes along with what you're discussing.

Pennies from Heaven
By Julie Bain

My dad loved pennies, especially those with the elegant stalk of wheat curving around each side of the ONE CENT on the back. Those were the pennies he grew up with in Iowa during the Depression, and Lord knows he didn't have many.

When I was a kid, Dad and I would go for long walks together. He was an athletic six-foot-four, and I had to trot to keep up with him. Sometimes we'd spy coins along the way—a penny here, a dime there. Whenever I picked up a penny, he'd ask, "Is it a wheat?" It always thrilled him when we found one of those special coins produced between 1909 and 1958, the year of my birth. On one of these walks, he told me he often dreamed of finding coins. I was amazed. "I always have that dream too!" I told him. It was our secret connection.


Dad died in 2002. By then, I was living in New York City, which can be exciting, or cold and heartless. One gray winter day, not long after his death, I was walking down Fifth Avenue, feeling bereft, and I glanced up and found myself in front of the First Presbyterian Church, one of the oldest churches in Manhattan. When I was a child, Dad had been a Presbyterian deacon, but I hadn't attended in a long time. I decided to go.

Sunday morning, I was greeted warmly and ushered to a seat in the soaring old sanctuary. I opened the program and saw that the first hymn was "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God," Dad's favorite, one we'd sung at his funeral. When the organ and choir began, I burst into tears.

After the service, I walked out the front doors, shook the pastor's hand, stepped onto the sidewalk—and there was a penny. I stooped to pick it up, turned it over, and sure enough, it was a wheat. A 1944, a year my father was serving on a ship in the South Pacific.

That started it. Suddenly wheat pennies began turning up on the sidewalks of New York everywhere. I got most of the important years: his birth year, my mom's birth year, the year his mother died, the year he graduated from college, the war years, the year he met my mom, the year they got married, the year my sister was born. But alas, no 1958 wheat penny—my year, the last year they were made.

Meanwhile I attended church pretty regularly, and along toward Christmas a year later, I decided I ought to join. The next Sunday, after the service, I was walking up Fifth Avenue and spotted a penny in the middle of an intersection. Oh, no way, I thought. It was a busy street; cabs were speeding by—should I risk it? I just had to get it.

A wheat! But the penny was worn, and I couldn't read the date. When I got home, I took out my magnifying glass and tilted the copper surface to the light. There was my birthday.

As a journalist, I'm in a profession where skepticism is a necessary and honest virtue. But I found 21 wheat pennies on the streets of Manhattan in the year after my father died, and I don't think that's a coincidence.

[Janet]

Diana, that was a great story. I really do feel Dad sends me butterflies. It all started when I was really young and they would lite on my dad. I couldn't believe they would actually land on a person and stay there for awhile. They would never land on me..until after his death.

I've had them land on my head, my cheek, the corner rim of my glasses...so funny. People will look and point if it happens while I'm in town or where there are other people. When I'm feeling particulary down or even just missing my dad...one will appear, whether it be a real one, or a picture or some kind of butterfly. I just know that they appear when I need them.

[DianaB]

I'm sure that it's really comforting for you. I know that my Dad loved me and I wish that I could believe that he could send me a sign. I do miss him. My Dad had some problems in his life and while I miss him and I don't miss the problems that he had.