Like a butterfly

When I made Dominique's costume, it took a lot more work than I had first thought, but then I realized that I could use it as a room decoration. After I'd hung it, I was thinking of how it would always serve us as a reminder of Gordon since Dominique wore it the night before Jenn went in to be induced. Then it dawned on me that the butterfly was not only timely, but mimics some of what we went through with Gordon.

He started off so little and unrecognizable. Just as no one can imagine the caterpillar as a butterfly, so the everchanging bundle of cells is so unlike a baby. With the sonograms, we could watch him grow and move, squirming around and we grew to love him. He was in a sort of cocoon, enwrapped, safe, developing and changing from day to day. Much like a captured caterpillar, we did not get to see him take to flight in his more glorious form, but we know that he did. We also know that he is unfathomably more beautiful now than we can ever imagine. We were left with a shell, that empty cocoon and the memories of those days of anticipation and of love and of joy, but his true and glorified self will flitter throughout our lives from time to time. Butterflies often surprise us with their appearances. They come swiftly and don't linger long, but sometimes we get an audience with them and they always cheer our hearts. To hold on too firmly would defeat the life of a butterfly and so like them, we have to let Gordon go, to fly and soar and grace our lives from time to time, sometimes when we least expect it.

Of course there will be seasons when his presence in our hearts and worlds will be a given. Every Sept./Oct. in Abilene, monarch butterflies come through town. So too, Gordon's birthday, and other hollidays we will remember him, and if we don't cling too tight to our hopes of keeping him near for a lifetime, we will be able to see his forever freeform flying all the more. We will have to look with other eyes, eyes that look into the heavenlies, but as we do, he will dazzle us with his flight, and sometimes land on our clothes or finger or nose.

Jennifer and I were giggling at how we loved to say his name: Gordon. That joy of him will always grace our lives, even through the sorrow and the years and the pain of not being able to hold him as we'd hoped. May we have eyes to see him in new ways, as he is now and ears to hear his laughter on another plane. May our nursery room butterfly remind us of our love for Gordon and of his love for us as he looks down from heaven and smiles for us.