Monarch

I’ve gotten to know my mom’s boyfriend, Wendell, over this past summer. This picture is of the two of us, recently….laughing about something ridiculous, I’m sure.

Shortly after this picture was taken, I decided to visit my dad’s grave in Algoma. Why? Well, I was feeling a bit guilty about liking the new dude, so I figured I’d pop in and just ask Dad “personally” if it was ok that I liked him. Standing at his grave, I assured my dad that there was no replacing him,  as he’d never have to worry about that happening – my dad is my dad.  Still, I felt I needed to go further…..so I asked my dad for a sign, any sign, letting me know that 1) he heard me and 2) it was “ok” for me to like this new guy. 

Flashback. 

In the late 1970’s, my father took my brother and me for a hike in Door county. On this particular hike, we came upon a tree that appeared to be on fire. As we walked closer to it, we saw why: it was covered in thousands of Monarch butterflies. I will never forget the magical feeling of that discovery, as though I had stepped into another beautiful dimension.  I will never forget that it made me fall in love with the beauty and grace of butterflies. Especially Monarchs. And I have forever associated those butterflies with my dad. 

So, fast forward……I left my dad’s grave that day and went to lake Michigan, paddled out in my kayak, and sorta took in all of the peace of the moment. I paddled several hundred yards off shore and pondered the beauty of the lake. As I relaxed in the movement and tranquility of the waves, I suddenly felt a bump to the back of my head. I turned to look and I saw nothing…..

…..nothing, except a lone Monarch hovering above my head, sort of in an orbit with me. I sat in disbelief as the Monarch and I engaged in this “interaction” and “dance” for several minutes. As the Monarch continued on with its journey, I followed it for as long as I could. It weaved in and out of my path as I chased it like a kid in a dream. Eventually, it disappeared into the blue sky. 

Was it a coincidence? Was it my pops? Is that how communication works with the dead? I have no idea. 

What I do know is this: that’s exactly the sign my dad would have given if he could. 

Welcome to my heart, Wendell. 

Good Things