After church, we took our usual trip to the cemetery to water the flowers. When we arrived, I was startled to see that at long last, Logan's marker had been placed. Adam and I dragged our feet approving the design; after all, how can you ever make that kind of decision? How can you choose just a few words to memorialize your child? As I looked at it, I wondered if he would approve. What would he think of the race car and the little boy cuddling the lamb? Would he like the barely blue shade of grey when we'd hoped it would be a truer blue? And the font -- would he like it or find it too dull? As we got into the car to leave, I continued privately considering those concerns.
As we drove away and rounded the top of the hill, I glanced up and saw a tiny blue butterfly fluttering just outside my window. It seemed to linger for a moment, and then it was gone.
And then oddly, just a moment later, Adam laughed and exclaimed "well that was strange." I asked what he was talking about. And he said he'd seen a little butterfly fluttering outside his window. I quickly asked if it was blue; no, he thought it was more gray than blue. But still: the grey stone that was supposed to be blue and the lingering little bluish grey butterfly that both of us noticed at just the perfect moment.
Surely it meant something. If nothing else, I think it meant that Logan approved of his memorial. And that he's free to fly with the wind.
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