Aim to Engage 2023

28 Butterfly Tells

"How old was he in this picture?"

The reporter was in our hallway where I documented Donnie's progress through his too short life. Tears threatened every time I glanced at the walls, but at the same time, I was so honored to be part of his special existence.

"Hmmm.... About five minutes. His eyes were squeezed shut until that second. He finally stopped howling to register he was warm, clean, and dry. I was cuddling him. And he opened his beautiful blue eyes."

The memory brought an explosion of love into me nearly as strong as it was at three in morning the day Donnie was born.

"And?"

This journalist wasn't putting words in my mouth for once.

"The butterflies appeared. And I was still in the birthing room."

I giggled. The panic on the nurses' faces was priceless. Jordy caught pictures, and I pointed to the one in the collage of birth pictures. My husband managed to trap a couple of them in a Styrofoam cup. We had a display of all the different species mounted in the center of Donnie's wall.

"I'm seeing this right then; those first butterflies were as tiny as he was."

Jason McCormick wasn't like the rest of them. I did my research. I wanted a news feature fit for multiple magazines. I also wanted a ghostwriter for my son's story. His life was amazing, and I wanted it done right.

"What's the story here?"

The picture was caught with Spud in mid-air snapping at a butterfly. His chubby puppy fluff back lit by the tree we decorated a week before.

"That's our golden retriever. Christmas at my mother in law's house. Jordy's father was deployed. A three star General."

"Why the butterflies?"

"Donny tore open the present because Daisy didn't want the box sitting. Puppies make messes when they are in strange circumstances. This one was picked from the last litter of their championship bitch. She's a breeder and their kennel won best of breed at Westminster almost every year."

"A boy and his dog, then. I remember falling in love with my first pup. Where's Spud now?"

Jason was tracing the calligraphy caption under the photograph.

"He's still with us. Jordy has him at the dog park. We're trying to get him over Donnie's passing."

I winced as I spoke. Spud howled for almost an hour when he felt Donnie go still.

"Is this too soon, Moira?" Jason asked. "Donnie's only been gone for a month."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But I'm going to tough it out. I want you to do the brief biography first. I've been hounded by every magazine in print and online for an interview. I told them I would provide them with a fully written article and photo-layout instead."

"I think we should stop here. I've got a good idea about how I'll tackle this, but I want my camera with me as we go through the process. I want pictures of you as you relive these memories. I want Jordy's too, and Spud. You are an amazing family."

I nodded. This is why I picked Jason. No past tense. He understood I wasn't ready to put it all in a memory box yet.

He put a supportive arm around my shoulders and guided me out into the great room.

"I'm thinking Butterfly Tells for the full biography title. Donnie's ability to conjure the insects from thin air, when he fell in love with anyone was unique. I want to document every one of those different beauties you have on the wall."

He wiped an escaping tear off his cheek.

"Love comes in many forms, and each is unique. Donnie taught us to let it flow, wherever we found it. And sometimes it made us shake our heads."

"I'll bet."

The front door opened just then, and Spud scrambled across the hardwood floor to greet Jason.

He dropped onto his knees to give our dog a full body hug, and I looked up to catch Jordy's eye. He nodded and gave me a thumbs up. Silent reassurance I picked the right man for the job. And perhaps our recovering dog could ease our hearts through this journey into life without Donnie. Live in the moment, and let the butterflies tell our son's story.