A trip to Indiana....a gathering of the family....hugs and a few tears. Memories shared and a well-planned tribute to someone we all loved so very much.
My cousin was a special woman and the friends and family who stood at her memorial service to share a story were a testament to that fact. Common threads wove their way through the shared memories.....her kindness, her goodness, her enthusiasm for life, her love.....and wine.
As a teacher for many years she touched young lives and helped to shape them in the most positive of ways. As a mother she raised strong, independent and loving children. As a wife she shared her life with a man who truly loved her.....and they absolutely enjoyed being together. Their life was a testament to what a good marriage looks like. Love, laughter, patience, not-too-much-irritation, more laughter, a sense of adventure, hugs, conversations and time shared together.
She was the best of grandmothers and relished every moment spent with the grandkids.....I know she created memories for all of them. She was a sister, an in-law, an aunt.....and a very special, special cousin.
Everyone gathered at her memorial service has a hole left in their hearts, an ache that will last for a long time.....but it will heal. The good memories will provide comfort....and for me, I will shed as many tears as I need to, but also smile when I "hear" her laughter and think of the words "Cousin Linnea!" spoken with a smile.
Over the past year my cousin and I had a lot of very interesting conversations.....about life, family, the beauty around us, spirituality, end-of-life concerns. We shared a few experiences where each of us felt a "touch" or a special "connection" to a loved one now gone.
So when we arrived at the farm on Saturday I got out of the car at the end of the driveway and let Dave proceed on up to the house. I took my box of Kleenex and walked "our" walk.....down to the crumbling cemetary at the end of the road and back. It's a quiet walk through the woods. One we had done together, with our dogs, many times. I cried as I walked and remembered our conversations. I watched for some kind of "sign". I was open to it....and hoped for it. We loved these walks....the chance to see some little bit of nature as the seasons changed. And the science teacher part of my cousin meant that she could point out all kinds of plants and insects that quietly lived in the woods. But there was no special sign from her to me.....so I walked slowly up to the farmhouse to join the family.
Later in the afternoon some family members were sitting around the fire pit overlooking the swimming pool and the pasture sloping down toward the Ohio River. Talking quietly, sharing stories, laughing.....patting each other on the back. This was one of my cousin's very favorite spots....especially when sharing it with family and friends.
Suddenly there was a butterfly flitting overhead.....bobbing and weaving around the group. Several people noticed it. But I'm not sure that anyone else realized the butterfly swooped down and settled, just for a moment, on the cold ash in the fire pit....and then flew away.
It caught my attention for sure. It wasn't a black swallowtail, it was a little smaller and a dark color. Some internet research gave me the answer.....the butterfly that came for a quick visit was a mourning cloak.
So I had my sign.....a quick, nature-centered touch from one heart to another. It helped.
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