sometimes heaven gives us a little sign...

It's been a quietly nostalgic week for me, spurred by the woman I saw at the Costco on Thursday. She was standing near the exit and, with the way the sunshine backlit her, I swore she was my mom--so much so, that for just a moment I forgot my  mom was dead and began to walk toward this woman to say hello, to hug her.

Then, this weekend I went to meet Dr. Yummy's parents for the first time. At one point, we were all sitting around eating sno-cones when I asked them to tell me some good, embarrassing  stories about him. They told a few (he was practically an angel so they didn't have much to work with :) ), and then they asked me to tell them some of my own embarrassing stories. I came up with two or three, afterwards thinking, I wonder what stories my mom will tell about me when Dr. Yummy meets her? And then I remembered again...she's not here anymore.

Maybe it's a case of when someone is such a part of your life and then just...gone, it takes your mind a good long while to really grasp it---if it ever truly does. Or, I like to think, when I have moments of remembering, of recognition like that, it means my mom is closer than usual. Maybe it really is her I'm catching a glimpse of.

Before she died, Mom told us that we didn't need to be afraid of death. While clearly in a lot of pain, she described the sensation of slowly slipping over to the other side "like butterfly wings on (her) cheeks." She told us that after she was gone, every time we saw a butterfly, we should think of her. We even put butterflies in her casket flower arrangement. So, you can see why my heart was so delighted that, following telling Dr. Yummy a story about my mom, this happened....

A butterfly came flying willy-nilly across the parking lot where we were standing and landed on my shoe.

I'll take that as a sign that I'm on the right path. I'm sure you've got a lot to do where you're at, Mom, but I appreciate you looking in on me. I hope you're proud of the woman I continue to become.