image here, "Ghost Wings" by Barbara M. Joose
Oliver's new favorite task at the library is to re-shelve certain areas. Well, this past week he picked the J shelf and really went to town. So, as we were putting each book back, I happened upon this one. I stopped in my tracks because it was one of my favorite illustrators and I have a mild obsession with monarch butterflies. (Title of this little blog, friends?!) Anyhoo, it is my dream to go to Oaxaca, Mexico someday and see the millions of monarchs in the forest, soaking up the glorious sun before making their arduous migration. Well, this gem of a book explains how this phenomenon relates to a young girl in Oaxaca whom recently lost her best friend, her grandmother. Upon opening the book, I decided to read it to Lillian at the library, but as the story began, tears choked my voice and I promised to finish when we got home. Let me tell you, I'm so glad I stopped. I decided to wait until Ava got home because I know she, too, would find great solace in this book. So, I grabbed my hankie and sat down to read with my girls. We were a beautiful mess.
The author combines the scientific fact of the monarch migration and the spiritual beliefs of the Mexican people in such a way, I'm teary just thinking about it now. She explains some believe the monarchs carry the souls of the departed and come down on the magical days of Los Dias de los Muertos to be with their earthly loved ones to celebrate. I should explain something here: my very first blog post was about Los Dias de los Muertos and a little excerpt from that post to explain why this book meant so much to us just a few days ago:
On a personal level, last summer I lost twins. It was a devastating blow for our family and my husband and I were left in a state of confusion. We were unclear how to function as partners, parents, and grieving individuals. It was a dark, hurtful time in our lives but our compassionate four year old summed it up best when she was explaining it to one of her dolls, "Mummy's babies were very sick and had to go heaven. They turned into butterflies and flew up in the sky. But, they still come to eat the flowers and be with us." Ava resolved such a complicated issue and it is through her simplicity and grace that I was able to pick myself up and move on.
I've never, ever forgotten that conversation my sweet girl had with her dolls. The innocent words of a four year old pulled me out of such a deep, dark pit of grief...then, and now.
I am not going to lie. Grief sucks. For the past month, I've been up and down, depending on the day. I miss my Nana so very much. She was more than my Nana, she was one of my best friends. I saw her every week and she dispensed advise I wanted to hear and didn't want to hear, she understood me when I didn't understand myself, she knew my kids better than I did, she was honest about everything and never held back, and she was my sweet indulgence. Mothering is a pretty self less gig and being a mother of 7 boys, she knew this better than anyone. During our weekly visits, she never let me get up, make my own tea, get my own piece of cake, or take my own children to the bathroom. Even though I was still a mother in my thirties, I never stopped being her granddaughter.
That being said, this book tore at my heart strings because I could not only identify with the little girl's loss, but could marvel at the simple beauty of finding spiritual meaning in Nature. I kid you not, after we read this book, we were playing in our yard and counted 20 (yes, 20!) butterflies. No, they were not monarchs, but regardless, the message was heard. I will always be her granddaughter and so many of her wonderful traits are carried within the hearts of my children. All of this from a picture book...when we are open, the right things enter our lives. I could have easily closed that book because it was too much, but I didn't. I'm so very, very, very glad I didn't. My days are indeed brighter, my friends.
And, as always, I must be honest here. I hesitated with this post. Is it too personal? Is it too much? But, then, after having the mister read it and seeing him cry, too, I know that it was too personal and it was too much, but, it is our life. And life is not full of joyful sing songy moments, it is peppered with heart-wrenching ones, too; after all, how could we ever appreciate the good ones without the bad? A million thanks, my friends, my family, and the superb mister for always being there to read my scribbling....
