Butterfly Kisses from Mom
Healing and Connection Come in Many Forms
This post came up in my Facebook memories feed recently, dated May 11, 2020:
“A few weeks ago, I was doing my stretches on the patio when a painted lady butterfly flitted around my head and landed on the side of our home. If you know me, you know that the butterflies dance around me often. I always chat with them. This time was no different.
I don’t recall ever seeing a painted lady butterfly this far out in the desert, but this variety is a life-long favorite for me. As I spoke soothingly, it fluttered toward me. Then it dive-bombed me.
It felt like it kissed me on the lips, and then it flew off. I stood for a moment, shocked and amazed at this precious gift of connection with the natural world.
My mom passed away within a day or two of this happening, and of course my soul felt that the memory of this fly-by was meant to be an oasis of comfort in adjusting to her loss.
Mother’s Day 2020 was rough in patches for me. There are two brand new mamas in our family and fresh and barely day-old grandbabies so precious and dear to love and cuddle, plus the bigger ones, all simply out of my reach.
I sat in the silence of our dark bathroom and screamed and cried out waves of sorrow at missing so many of life’s big events for so many reasons. I was not prepared to watch from afar these moments that I could never recover and never be part of. Little pieces of my broken heart flaked off and lay in a pile at my feet.
I heard from both of my kids, renewing faith in the knowledge that they were safe and well. I was trying to stay in that thought and remain peaceful in the here and now, basking in gratitude for our growing family and their current collective good health and safety given the world’s situation.
While contemplating and watering my seedlings, joy stepped in times two and flew around me in the form of a pair of hummingbirds who celebrated my efforts at gardening in this extreme environment. I sat down on the ground and cried, uttering thank you, thank you, thank you, and you are so welcome. We were united in our quest to find a way to carry on.
It’s not the easiest thing to isolate, even under the best possible conditions. I am feeling the keening sorrow of an aging mother and grandmomma missing some big events in the life of our combined families. I am also wallowing in the joys of being connected and healed by nature, no matter where we may find ourselves. It’s my ace in the hole, my saving grace, this sacred and blessed connection.”
Reading this, I can still feel all of the feels that I was drowning in during that time in my life. Not knowing if I would make it through our (presumed) case of Covid-19 in January of 2020 further intensified a lingering depression that I was already experiencing, before a month of illness that set me back a good long while in so many ways.
I shuffled around, barely lifting my arms, barely breathing, with more pain than I could bear, even though I am an old hand at managing intense pain. Deep muscle spasms left me curled up, napping constantly and praying for any kind of relief. My pinball machine was on full-tilt and the lights were fading.
Dan and I talked about lupus and scleroderma, and how they sometimes make bodily changes that can’t be reversed. The ground beneath me felt crumbly and I was so tired, bone tired. Maybe I wouldn’t make it through this patch. There was talk of coming off the road permanently, to which I howled in protest and refused to accept. Eventually we got back out there for a good long while, but it felt utterly impossible right then. My sorrow deepened.
We made changes to our travel plans, our final wishes, our power of attorney, do-not-resuscitate orders, and many other important papers and underpinnings of our life together. Part of me floated away, watching from somewhere in the bleachers. I could not fathom coming all this way, finding the man of my dreams and living the nomadic life of my choosing, then having to shuffle out without a serious fight. That’s not my style. My warrior spirit rallied, as it is known to do.
I leaned into my writing, mostly voice-to-text when I could manage it, allowing myself to feel and describe my grief at both losing my mother, and also losing the chance to be present as a fledgling grandmomma in the ways I had always imagined. I looked like a grandmomma, but was without the experiences that go along with the look.
I talked about an “inward season" and spoke about depression in a post with this picture on my @twentyonefeathers Instagram page in January of 2020. Inward was an understatement.
My great big sleeve-located heart lost its outside voice but found expression in a book-length journal of mostly daily musings over the course of 2020, currently labeled “A.V. dailies” or after-virus dailies. Who knew that the story would continue well into 2022, but here we are. It is another one of those book-sized stacks of content that wait to be assembled into some kind of form. I don’t feel the need to put it at the top of the stack at this point. I do, however, feel the need to share this bit of the backstory of something I posted on Facebook, as that is my plan in many of these posts.
I don’t know what I would have done without the yard and garden back then. In all ways, and every day, I acknowledge the restorative power of nature in my daily life. Nature informs me, fills me, nurtures me, and heals me. Being out in and a part of nature helps me feel rooted to the Earth and All That Is.
I think about those days and the rough patches we’ve made it through since then. I count my lucky stars to have help-mates extraordinaire in the Great Spirit and my beloved Dan, plus all of those folks who cheer me on when I find words to share my struggles in a public manner. I am never one to turn down thoughts and prayers, even if those seem to have fallen out of favor with some. Gladly, I both give and receive openly love in all (healthy and appropriate) forms.
I would be remiss to neglect mentioning the hummingbirds, butterflies, birds, tiny frogs and lizards, and so many other creatures great and small that populate my world. It is in these connections that I find peace and solace in hard times, and joy in my happiest moments. Here’s to my yard mates and my roommates, who are helpful and loving and hold space for me and nurture me in my darkest hours.
I am glad to be able to be present and to feel my feelings, and to quite often find ways to describe them and share them, so others don’t feel so alone when they go through something similar. Some Native American Indian tribes believe that whispered prayers and wishes are carried to the Great Spirit on the wings of butterflies. I believe that to be true.
I think they seek me out, knowing I have many of both to send up for one and all. Be open to signs of love and support from nature, from the Great Spirit of your understanding, and from those in spirit, and you will be continuously provided with sources of comfort beyond measure.
Seek love and beauty in all things, and it will appear right before your eyes.
And get outside, dang it. Your heart and soul need it more that you know.
Love is all there is,
Brenda Cordray
“The Desert Rose”
It is hard to be tied down in one place. Quartzsite is so boring in the summer, and hot! I am glad you are finding some solace with your garden and critters. My deepest condolences for the loss of your mother. It is hard to face a world without your mother.