In the elevators of the hospital here, they have posters explaining that if you see a butterfly on the door of a room in the hospital, it means that a patient is close to passing, or has already passed, so that those entering the room are aware of the circumstances.
When I got to my moms hospital room on the morning of December 21, there was a blue butterfly on her door.
The meaning of the butterfly wasn't a shock - my Dad and I had received the devastating news the afternoon before; but it still slammed me in the heart. This was really happening.
In November I read over and over again a few posts and Instagrams of Tracy at Shutterbean. Her mom passed away suddenly right before American Thanksgiving. I was beginning to wonder if the same was going to happen to us.
My Mom had been in the hospital for a while. She endured countless cycles of improvements and setbacks. She fought as hard as she could. She suffered.
A handful of days later. A different door. A different butterfly. My Mom is gone.
Of her son, Tracy wrote
"He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand how this will change him.
It makes me feel so lucky that I had my grandparents for as long as I did.
He doesn’t understand how this will change me."
My Mom loved her grandkids a lot. One of my biggest regrets is that they will move forward without her in their lives. It was too soon.
It's been more than a month since we lost her now. Some days are good. Some are pretty bad.
We are moving forward and trying to figure out this new life without her.
It will come.
Photos from our 2016 family trip to Vancouver Island, one of our last trips.
"...the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take."