METAMORPHOSIS

Metamorphosis – a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means.

This is a story that has been bubbling in my mind and heart for over three months now. It has been four months since my beloved “Daddy” had a “change of form”, so to speak. A couple of days after he passed away, my sister, her husband and I were standing in my kitchen. Rosie glanced out the glass door of the kitchen and saw a large, beautiful butterfly on the screen of the porch and pointed it out to me. I glanced at it and under my breath, without thinking, whispered, “hi Daddy”. I told no one of my reaction for a few days fearing they might think that I had flipped my lid or was seriously screwed up in my theology.

A few days later I shared this experience with my sister who probably tried very hard not to raise her eyebrows at me. It puzzled me as to why I reacted this way and I wondered as to what possible meaning it could have…this spontaneous reaction of talking to the butterfly and addressing it as “Daddy”.

One thing that helped me feel a little less spooked by my reaction was one of the grief booklets that I read. The following paragraph spoke to me and helped me understand that my reaction was quite normal.

“Many who grieve report unexplainable experiences that suggest a feeling of connectedness with a loved one who has died. Some understand these to be normal perceptions that occur for a time following a death, while others believe them to be magical or spiritual occurrences.”

When I read that, I felt a little better about what had happened and realized that this was not an unusual occurrence and I wasn’t losing my mind but still I wondered about the significance of it or if there was even any significance. A few weeks later I was driving with my daughter and at a stoplight I noticed that the car in front of us had a butterfly on the license plate. As we drew closer I discovered that it was a Florida specialty plate for Hospice. I was stunned. I had no idea at this point that the butterfly is used as a symbol by many hospice societies world-wide. I have no idea if the hospice facility where Dad was at the end uses the butterfly or not. It was not something that I noticed at the time we were there.

The loss of my father after years of caring for him and for my mother has had a profound impact on me. I have struggled at times with guilt…well, lots of times. I have second guessed myself and the decisions we made and continue to make on behalf of Mom. The roles are definitely reversed…I have become my mother’s Mom. She has even introduced me at times as her mother. The last time she realized her mistake and corrected herself. Getting off track here – back to the butterflies!

The whole butterfly thing intrigued me. At every turn I kept seeing butterflies. I even ordered a new pair of shoes on line and they came with a butterfly picture. What was I supposed to be learning from all of this? I started spending hours researching.

Like the butterfly, hospice is a symbol of transformation. They help people make the most important transformation in life, and help them find hope even in the process of dying. That was definitely true for our family. Hospice helped us in the education of what was happening and what to expect to helping make Dad’s last days as comfortable as possible.

Butterflies have been a part of many legends. They are symbolic and carry significant meaning in many cultures. In many Native American Tribes butterflies are a symbol of rebirth, regeneration, happiness, and joy.

Butterflies have a multi-stage life cycle; beginning with a larvae stage and ending with the spectacular metamorphose into a colorful winged adult form. Some people think of this cycle as similar to the human life cycle. The concept is that we are born into this world and leave this world, metamorphosing into a new and beautiful spiritual world, free of pain and suffering. I have the assurance that my Dad, whose heart belonged fully to his Savior and Lord, Jesus, did, in fact, metamorphose in to a new life and a new body.

Another grief booklet reads, “Search your own memory for an image or object that was special to your loved one, or that helps you bring your loved one to mind……find a way to hold onto that special “icon,” and let it bring you comfort and joy.” For me, it is the butterfly. As I look back to the day that I saw the butterfly on the screen, my conclusion is that God knew how much I had just gone through and what I was facing in the days ahead. It was such a sweet reminder that Dad is safely with Jesus and that my Heavenly Father is watching over me, guiding me and loving me as I continue on in my responsibilities of caring for my Dad's beloved wife that he struggled with leaving behind.


Psalm 30:11,12
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness, that my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever. (NASV)

Praise God, my Dad’s mourning in the loss of his mind and body has now turned into dancing. He is in the presence of Jesus and he is singing and dancing in his new body and with his new mind.


In all my researching on this subject, I discovered that a very common practice with Hospice facilities is to have a butterfly release as fund-raisers and as memorials for loved ones who have passed on. We are having a family memorial for Dad over the Thanksgiving holiday. There will be almost 50 immediate family members present to celebrate Dad’s life. I’d love to do a butterfly release at that time. I think that it would be a beautiful and fun experience.

The long goodbye

I am so sad tonight. Today I left Mom at the nursing home after a visit and was filled with so many emotions. The main one I recognized was guilt. Guilt is a close friend of mine…I know it quite well. The dictionary on my computer gives one definition of guilt as “a feeling of having done wrong or failed in an obligation”. That’s it! That’s what has been plaguing me.

Mom has roommate issues again. Add to that the grieving that takes place because of the loss of her beloved husband…add to THAT the dementia that is taking more and more of her mind and we have a confused and troubled person. Enter, stage right, the daughter who has a built in desire to fix everything and keep everyone she loves, happy. This daughter has entered a stage that she cannot fix, cannot change and she is still also working through the loss of HER beloved Daddy.

Earlier this evening I made a phone call. The dear person on the other end of the line listened a lot and then helped me to focus on some things. During the course of the conversation I realized again that a lot of my problem is that I am grieving deeply the loss of my mother as well as my Dad. Many months ago, as I watched Dad decline so greatly, I realized how much that Mom had sacrificed doing a lot of things that she wanted to do because of Daddy. She would talk to me of specific things that she would enjoy doing but she wouldn’t do them because it may take her away from him or make him feel left out. I imagined all the things that we could do together when Dad passed away. (Not that I was wishing him gone, you understand, but just thinking realistically about when that time would come.) Now he’s gone and she can’t do them or has no desire to.

Back to where I began…I left Mom at the nursing home as was filled with so many emotions…

Guilt! But why? It’s not my fault that Mom’s mind is deteriorating the way it is. I didn’t do it to her! It began long before the nursing home entered the picture! The social worker at the facility where Mom lives told me yesterday that losing a spouse can plummet the dementia decline. I didn’t end Dad’s life! Yesterday when Mom was voicing her concerns about her roommate, I asked if she would like to come home for the day and hang out here. She was very excited about that. She brought her reading material and her word find book. When it was lunchtime I went and got her favorite, Chick-Fil-A. She ate very little but enjoyed a hearty bowl of ice cream! She went back to reading and a little while later was in tears. She had picked up a book on grief. She told me that she had been sure she was “on top of things”. After we talked a few minutes, she asked if I was ready to take her back. She told me that she wanted to go back because she had things to do there and it kept her mind off of things. I took her back. Others in the family have talked about how it is probably easier for her to be there than at home. Here at home, where she spent the past two years living with Daddy, are constant reminders of that fact that he is no longer here. I feel guilty, why??

There is a book entitled “The Long Goodbye”, by Patti Davis in which she talks about her father's Alzheimer disease. I was reminded tonight, during my phone conversation, of that phrase, the long goodbye. That’s where I am with Mom. I am already saying goodbye. The guilt that make me want to bring her home and try to help restore her mind is that part of me that wants to fix things. And I can’t fix things. I can’t turn back time for Mom and her mind. I can’t bring Dad back. Bringing her home won’t make her mind get better. I can’t slow down the dementia process.

It has been suggested that maybe I feel guilt because of being away on vacation when things started to go really bad for Dad. I have strongly denied that I feel any guilt in that regard. What I feel is that God gave me an incredible gift, knowing as He did, what I was getting ready to face when I got home. When we went on that vacation, I was at the bottom of my barrel of strength, energy and mental stamina. It was just enough to help me get through the next few weeks. That brings me to Mom being in the nursing home.

It has also been suggested that God gave me a gift by working things out for both of my parents to be placed together in a facility before Dad passed away. Dad’s most dire need of extra care led them there together because I wouldn’t/couldn’t separate them. Mom became used to it, made friends, got involved with activities and trusts her caregivers. Can I accept this as a gift from God and embrace it equally as well as the week He gave me before Dad died? I’m going to work on it!