The Butterfly

The Butterfly

I am sitting at my dad’s desk. It faces the ocean, it’s not surprising. He loved the ocean more than anything. He would have made a good Merman and like those mythical beings he was often just as illusive. I am here to look after his things and make arrangements for his funeral, but all I seem able to do is sit here and stare at the might of the waves crashing down on the shore. Somehow it makes me feel closer to him than I’ve been in the longest time.

A butterfly passes the window. It seems so out of place in the scene. I know you’d say flying but their flight looks more like a light dance to me. Everything about it is lightness. To the way it moves, it’s weight and it’s size. It’s quite a large one, and it’s yellow. It’s just flown past me and my gaze follows its merry sky dance. It never seems to stop anywhere for long. I read once that for all its beauty the butterfly never gets to see its own wings so maybe it doesn’t even know how much pleasure its beauty gives to those who take the time to look.

There is no greater teacher of transformation than this beauty. When you think about where it came from, that it once was a lowly creepy crawly caterpillar who didn’t think about anything else than the next leaf for his meal. Did it ever expect or even dare dream of what it would become? Do caterpillars dream?

I was like that creepy crawly caterpillar, mostly thinking about my next meal and where it would come from. I have no great dreams or even any expectations for anything much. I’ve been disappointed too many times so I don’t bother with that anymore.

I just caught myself out there because I said caterpillar instead of worm, so there is still some hope in my heart for some form of transformation. I don’t know though because I don’t think it’s going to be all sunshine and rainbows. We all can appreciate the beauty, but forget about the pain and confusion of the caterpillar. Transformation is not for the faint of heart and I know it. Maybe that’s why I feel it might be safer to not even think about it.

I saw one of these Facebook quotes that said butterflies were messengers from loved ones who had died. I like thinking about that now even though I’m not sure I believe it. But I know that my dad who was really just a big hippy child would love that.

You know my dad, he should never have become a parent. He always just remained a big child really. He was a free spirit and loved surfing more than anything. Yes, I think he sometimes forgot he had a family. Both my parents really shouldn’t have even thought of becoming parents and I don’t think they did-really think about it. I think it happened accidentally their introduction to parenthood and it wasn’t their natural habitat so they both did their best to flee from it. They had two girls and then me. Nobody ever told me any of this but these are the natural conclusions that I drew from our story.

My sisters have told me some things, they still remember our mom. I have no recollection of her and all I ever had of her were just a few photos. Apparently she went to buy something at the shop and just never came back home. Of course I asked them if she really left or if she’s just missing. My sisters assured me they did search for her and eventually came to the conclusion she just didn’t want to be found. My father refuses or rather refused to ever talk about her. I sometimes have nightmares that she’s dead or she’s being held somewhere. Most of the time I don’t think about her much, it’s hard to when she was never really a presence for me.

Our gran came to live with us and took care of us when my mom left. She’s really been my one and only mom and she filled my life with laughter, love and her warmth. When I told her that I thought my parents were kindred free spirits she grumbled under her breath, ‘more like irresponsible kindred spirits.’ She was never one to hold back on what she thought and her straight talk was very much a part of her.

The ocean just keeps drawing in my gaze and everything else feels like it doesn’t matter. It feels like I’ll be okay if I just keep sitting here looking at the deep blue waves. Suddenly a memory pops into my mind unbidden. It’s one of my happiest memories, it’s the day my dad took me surfing for the first time. We were both so happy that day. I fell off the board so many times but I didn’t give up. I wanted him to be proud of me, and he really was when I finally got it right. Afterwards we sat on the beach, the sun warming us and I remember us laughing even though I can’t remember about what.

Am I going crazy? For a moment I thought I heard him call my name.

You know we were close that time when I used to surf with him, he ignored my sisters. They didn’t want to surf so he really didn’t have much interest in them. But when I went to college and stopped surfing and I moved to another state we drifted very far apart.My gran passed away so I never came home. I used to call him on his birthday and sometimes at Christmas but we had little contact. So it is a huge surprise how hard this loss has hit me. My sisters don’t seem to care, they are only coming to the funeral for me because I begged them to I didn’t want to face this on my own. Being the youngest they always look out for me and they’ll be here tomorrow for the funeral.

I’m supposed to be doing a million things to organize everything and instead I’m held by this chair that used to be my father’s caught by his very favourite view in the world. The butterfly is back dancing across the window.

The first thing about my father that transformed me and my life was when I was about 35 and I called him. When I got off the phone I had a profound insight, or it was to me anyway. I realized that he was just another flawed human like all the rest of us. He wasn’t some god. He was limited and I also understood that he could never be who he wasn’t. That he couldn’t be the parent I had wished for myself. After that I really did feel transformed I knew I had to start looking after myself and couldn’t use him as an excuse anymore.

This here though is something else, it must be how the creepy crawly caterpillar feels when he turns to mush, his whole world collapsing and he has no idea of the world that awaits him. I don’t think I truly ever understood it until now how death can transform everything. It’s like a huge piece of you has just been taken away and you don’t know if anything is ever going to make sense again.

This is my father’s second and final transformation of my life and you know whatever he was he brought me into this world and he taught me how to surf and how life can transform you from the inside out when you least expect it. I don’t know how he dealt with his pain or his own transformation but one thing I can tell you. He’d be out there on the waves.

That’s it, I’m going to surf it’s the only way I know that he’ll find me. He would never pass an opportunity for surfing. The butterfly sky dances across the window a third time. That’s all I needed, I run out to his shed and get his board and I swear that I hear him laughing saying, ‘surfs up son’.