The summer after Mikail passed away, I found that any moment alone was difficult. Too much time to think. Thinking meant trying to make sense of the senseless death of our son. Thinking meant dealing with guilt. Thinking meant painful flashbacks. Driving to places was difficult. Sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee was difficult. Going for a walk was difficult. But something almost always happened when I was met with those solitary moments and dispair started to settle in: more often than not, a butterfly would fly by, or come near to me. I found such comfort in these moments. It was as though God opened a window in heaven and allowed Mikail to release a beautiful bit of heaven to be sent down to his Mama. As though to tell me that he's okay; that he loves me, and that this butterfly is his kiss to me from glory.
Butterflies have become a comfort to me. They symbolize resurrection, re-birth, and hope which I have deep belief in. The hope of resurrection from the dead, because of the grace and sacrifice made on the cross: