Butterfly

My father-in-law went into a hospice last Thursday. Sunday he became unresponsive. We spent the past week at his side. At one point I had time alone with him and I talked to him and told him everything I wanted to say (including the score of the Canucks game that was on that day because he would have wanted to know). I recorded Lincoln blabbering and gurgling and squealing and Ruby saying "Hi Grandpa Stan. I love you Grandpa Stan". When I played it for him he responded to it and turned his head towards my phone and tried to talk and reach. It was bitter sweet and heart wrenching.


He passed away on Thursday morning at 7am with his best friend at his side.

That morning at exactly 7am, Lincoln started crying. He had been awake for 20 minutes already and had been happily playing with his toys on the floor. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.

The hospice placed a butterfly on his door as they use the butterfly to symbolize a person's natural transformation from life to death.

The next day after I got home with the kids, I put Ruby down for her afternoon nap. Oddly she was up within 10 minutes knocking on her side of her bedroom door. When I opened the door - she had a butterfly in her hand and held it up to me. It was a beautiful handmade butterfly that she got when she was born. It has been hanging on the back of her doorknob and this was the first time she (or anyone else) has ever taken it off.

Steve was given his dad's watch the day he died. The next day the watch stopped.

In my dreams that night I saw him from behind, walking, holding Ruby's hand.

We will miss him. He truly was a special man. I know he will always watch over us.