i must admit, the bat story made me shake from the chills flying up my spine. but your description of justin's reaction was priceless.

and the butterflies....just lovely.

We have bats around our house, and I have finally gotten used to them. I remember the first time we spotted them, years ago: it's normal here by the river. But there was a bit of that duck and cover; I must have looked ridiculous walking around the lake. Strangely, I don't mind the mice (aw!) or the flying mice, but seriously, spiders make me stand up on chairs. I feel like such a loser.

I love that you had this moment, the butterflies (with such gorgeous images to go with the gorgeous words). Maybe saying good-bye comes in bits and pieces and maybe it comes in one thumping lot, but I know, because yesterday was a good-bye day (four years ago) for our family to commemorate too, and I've felt quiet about it... perhaps opening up to geography, to the heart, to what might land, saying that it's all angels winging around us anyway... maybe that's what we all need.

xo

Onward.

I love Justin's preamble, talking himself into freaking out.

The butterflies...oh my, my heart. Peace be with you, Kate.

love and light to you tonight and every night, kate...liam will always be with you, i pray from this day onward his light brings you only peace.

BATS DONT EAT PICKLES ??

I was sitting here having a very hard time with the death of my little sister recently and found myself at your site , as you so often have the words I need to get the strength to think about trying to heal .
Before I came I looked at my sisters picture and said IM HAVING A HARD TIME PATTY ...please send me a sign .

First thing I saw when I logged onto your site was BATS DONT EAT PICKLES .

HEALING ACCOMPLISHED FOR TONIGHT !

I cant explain without giving away our sacred sister secrects , but those words are the clearest sign she could have sent ....on your site. A random sentance that wouldnt mean anything to some and everything to others .

I think she sent me you .

They do that you know ...send others to try to break thru the grief .....I think yours were the butterflys that day .

So onward I go .
Thank you . In your grief you have manged to help me reign in mine .

BIG HUGS ,
Sue

Butterflies. Magical transformation. Carrier of messages between the realms.
Thinking of you. xoxo

I'm speechless, Kate. The butterflies? Crazy. I'm glad you made it through the weekend with what seems like, maybe, serenity restored.

Beautiful words and images, as always Kate. I believe in signs too, and what a comfort they bring when you need them the most. Peace be with you.

My grandmother (in-law) has believed in the butterlies since 1997, when her son died in a car crash. A woman, who gave birth to 10 children, 3 still born.. Who imagines her buried babies as grown adults, but their souls still free with the butterflies that dance around her house.
It started the day of his funeral, at the grave side, a single, fluttering yellow butterfly... It carried on, two months later, at another sons wedding-the yellow butterfly, the brother's presence.
To this day, 11 years on, the butterflies still flutter, still flock to her house, still dance for her and show her that he is here...
***
I wrote about it here

I love bats and think they are adorable but not when they are divebombing my head! That was a very funny picture.Truly a salty sweet story. Your posts always make me laugh and cry. How many butterflies have such a thoughtful helping hand and how blessed it was to have found you!

A better prayer has never been spoken.

Bats I can handle. Anything with a stinger I can't deal with.

I must admit, the thought of your husband disliking bats yet climbing up masts makes me feel a little better about myself. :)

I shouldn't be, but I'm still giggling about the bats.

Lovely butterflies, and how wonderful that they decided to join you this weekend of all.

No way but through. Onward.

I had an online friend who used to write about the significance of yellow butterflies... one hovered outside her hospital window after she delivered her stillborn son, & they've turned up at other critical points in her life.

I recently wrote in my blog about our pregnancy loss group's memorial monarch butterfly release. It is a wonderful thing to see.

But the bats...!! Ugh!!!

Bats don't bother me. I think they're neat. I might be singing a different tune if they attacked me, however.

The butterflies...... Heartbreakingly beautiful.

Oh, Kate, that was just beautiful. I'm so grateful that you had your butterfly encounters. (notsomuch the bats.) Thank you for posting that and letting me read it this morning.

onward indeed.

oh, the butterflies, the twin butterflies. tears, of the richest kind. you bring such beauty, Kate, to the sad corners of the heart.

onward, brave friend.

Onward, indeed. The world can bring us such heartbreak, but it can also provide such moments of hope and beauty. Beautifully described, as usual.

You have the sweetest soul ... I love the butterflies. Hugs to you.

You have brought me to complete and utter tears with your butterly story. I am sitting here, eating yogurt, now unable to think of anything else. Kate, beautiful. Your stories, always, make me feel. As for the bats, I would have lost my stomach on that one. Spiders freak me out, but bats?!

(Hugs) to you - keep writing this week, as you think about it all...

there is something about the way life comes at you, to you and then to us through you. it changes my day, makes the light seem different and brings a whole host of emotions that i cannot help but welcome, even the ones that involve the sliding tears....your words are always heard. just wanted you to know you are being thought of. and he is too.

Oh my...first you crack my s*** up with the bat story and then you make my heart ache with the butterflies.

Such is life. Onward is a heartwarming thought.

oh kate. the butterflies. the yellow. it couldn't be more of a perfect present. to be present. to see it differently. because it is different. yet strangely the same somehow. as always, glad to hear your words.

Why do we associate butterflies with lost children? Because it works, I guess. They fit. Doesn't really matter why.

Little white butterflies are everywhere, enjoying the almost summer weather and fragrant blooms. They seem to follow me. Sometimes in pairs. I still think, wouldn't it be nice if...

Glad you had yours, your butterflies. Onward.

*****
"I was all joy, but now I am done." And the tears fall.

oh Kate. I feel I am being too familiar calling you that. But the words came out sort of by themselves.

How we act normal in the face of such unfairness, is that a word that sounds right here. I stumble over myself. How we go thru the motions I suppose.

Bats. {insert massive shudder here} Bats are my undoing. We used to get them in our first house, and I just, well, we don't live there anymore.

And the butterflies - you made me laugh and cry in the same post.

I am a new person to your blog - heck to the blogasphere but I just experienced your last year in one night and feel sad, exhausted and hopeful. When I finally got to this post I instantly thought of the first butterfly being Ben...so perfect, so full of life, so beautiful, healthy. It made you smile. The second was just a beautiful but not able to fly on his own. But, the relationship you had with the second butterfly was wonderful and special. You were able to actually hold it, to feel it in your hand. Who gets to hold butterflies in their hand? You were blessed on this day just as you were a year ago. Thank you for allowing me to walk along with you on this journey.. a year later...to me, it all happened tonight.

I just wanted to say hello, and that I think you are amazing. I have never been here before and somehow found you.

peace

You are such an amazing writer. Your words come to life. Simply put, that's all I can think to say when there is so much that could be said.

Ooh... reminds me of the time when Aoife was new, new born, and Liam barely two, perhaps not yet, and we were home alone and a solitary bat swooped through the kitchen as I was preparing supper...
"mimi fweaked out" was the phrase of the week from little Liam, remembering how I grabbed him under one arm, and Aoife flapping in the sling, and stowed them in the living room while I tried, unsuccessfully, to catch the bat: an unsuccessful mission due to the fact that I did not have the courage to even try to catch it. So I locked the 3 of us in my bedroom with a plate of scrambled eggs, put the children to bed (even baby Aoife was laid in the middle of our bed, asleep, so that I might take on bat duty) and then I called the neighbor who came over armed with a paper bag and a cooling rack to catch the dear bat.
And the butterflies? not all things with wings bring on such a reaction.. and I see there another Liam, yours, accompanying you on your journey, as always...

oh Kate. I wish I knew what to say. what an incredible story.

Both this and your post on Shutter Sisters is just beautiful.

(The part about the bats was pretty funny!)

I have always thought that those that have passed come back to visit, you just have to be open to receiving. It sounds to me he is visiting and your are open.

Two summers ago I awoke in the middle of the night, to a bat in my bedroom. We had to capture it, kill it and send it off to the fine folks at Agriculture Canada for rabies testing. It was either that or set it free and make all five of us get rabies shots (thanks old house with transom windows!). The bat was clean. I still feel bad about that.

Onward, brave mama.

so much love to you.
and FREED OM to all of your family and babies.
xoxo

You're being featured on Five Star Friday:
http://www.fivestarfriday.com/2008/06/five-star-friday-edition-11.html

good for you kate. it was so painfully beautiful, the way you honored him in your mourning. it is freeing and breathtaking that you are finding your way in this new year, honoring him in light, spotting the joy in these magic moments. =)

Kate,

Nearly every time I read one of your posts, I leave it open on my computer for days - wanting to comment, but never feeling like I have the right words. I always come away so touched. . . I wish I had something to offer you, in exchange for sharing these pieces of yourself.

I am so often at such a loss for what to say. Only that your writing never fails to move me.

Last summer, we were sitting on our back porch in Lunenburg, overlooking over the Picton Castle and the last rays of sunshine, when suddenly our backyard was swooping with activity.

At first we thought it was murder of starlings, or some other small bird, and we marveled at their antics for a minute or two... And then Kristina yelled...

Holy shit, those aren't birds, they're bats!

And we fell over ourselves running back into the house, slamming and locking the doors. You know, as if...

Amazing, isn't it, how such a little thing can make us so silly? It could be the old vampire movies, or how when we were kids, our country relatives would tell us stories about about how bats would get caught in your hair, and your mother would have to cut them out, and it could take any hour. (I never found out if that was an urban legend).

Your description was priceless.

________________

With the other... As always, your lovely, lyrical prose is touching.

Bats are very cool creatures, we are going to be making bat houses to draw them to our home, they eat those pesky mosquitoes ya know! But, if they were swirling around my head, I would have to say.........well, I am sure you handled it much calmer then I would have, hehe.
A friend referred me about your site today~ I am glad to have been told about it, I look forward to reading more.
Love
Red

So often when I read what you write I have to remind myself to breathe.

I am a new mother, and though reading your sorrow brings me closer to the precipice than I'd like (the stakes are so high now, and I am so much more vulnerable than I was) - I have to. Does it help you that others are witnesses to your sorrow? I imagine it does, or you would not share.

Your writing reveals a beautiful soul.

Liam - precious - for some reason I've been hearing the word mariposa in my head all day.

Yuck! I agree - mice with wings! I don't mind a lot of things but mice are at the top of my list- add winds and they are even worse. I have to say spiders rank pretty high too!

I have no words for the butterflies, I often see them and think of my losses too. What a beautiful post about them, brought me to tears. (((hugs)))

Man. That totally brought a tear to my eye.

Such love and attention.

Thanks for sharing so much despite what you're going through, Kate. Your writing shines with your love of life and your determination to keep your son's spirit alive. Hugs from Denver, K.

I am finally leaving a comment... not because I have anything wondrous to say, but because I did not wish to give you the queebs. :-) If you see a lot of activity from San Antonio... it's me...
I stumbled upon you a few weeks ago, and read through everything from the beginning... and I am humbled, inspired, and encouraged by your journey.
I have lost three, at almost every stage of the journey, and I've been in the NICU. I have two frustrating, spunky, opinionated, powerful, energetic darlings on this earth with me... and I know the overwhelming NEED to "stick it to" Mother Nature with another successful pregnancy. Ohh, how I know that feeling. My last pregnancy ended at 23 weeks, probably due to a clotting disorder... and I just cannot stop here. My husband disagrees, and I'm ok with that for the moment, but I have Hope. Capital 'H'.
Anyway... I wanted to finally leave a comment, officially join the ranks of fans... I love the way you write- you describe the heart of things so well. Thank you for spilling it all here. It helps.

The story about the bats is hilarious! It is exactly how I would have reacted. I think drinking heavily is the only way to get through these visits to Liam. That's what I would be doing as well :)

Lovely photos!