Way back in May, on Tim's birthday, as Hugh and I wandered back down the trail, a butterfly like the one above was flitting around a small clearing, then fluttered around us on the trail. Now, anytime a butterfly flits around me, or a hummingbird, I feel that it is a small hello from Tim. It gives me a thrill I can not explain. The following week, another Mourning Cloak Butterfly flitted around me at school, and within a few days it happened here at home, out on the sidewalk. 3 encounters within a week's span! I never shared it with anyone until I told my sister about it on her recent visit, and I finally looked up the butterfly with a description on the internet. Imagine my surprise and pleasure when I saw the name of this butterfly! It made perfect sense!
People talk about the "thin veil" between worlds. There are many sites on the internet if you are interested in reading more. I have read a little, and have mixed feelings about what some people have to say about it, and "thin spots", etc. But I have had several dreams of Tim, and I believe each one is a visit from Tim. I can't give scientific proof, or spiritual proof, but that is what I feel. And there are certainly dreams that have had significance in the waking world. For instance, the 2nd dream I had he was in the hospital, and his room-mate was my maternal grandfather. Grandpa died in 1979, and he is a very significant person in my life. To wake from that dream, knowing Tim was with Grandpa (even though it was very early in my grief), gave me a sense of peace. And at one point I was rubbing Baby Magic lotion on Grandpa's arms because they were so dry, and I could smell the Baby Magic (don't recall ever experiencing smell in a dream). It was the lotion both my grandparents used. This was real.
In another dream, Tim was camping with us, and my Mom and her parents were sleeping in the car. I knew Tim was with them, and at one point I asked him if, since (?) was graduated (not sure if it was supposed to be him or Dennis or what), would he like to move back home? As I asked this, I was picturing in my head the small, real bedroom Dennis sleeps in, and wondering how we would make that work. Tim made it clear to me that he was going to stay, that he was where he belonged. With his Grandma and great-grandparents.
How can I not see the message here? How can I not, in the waking world, know where he is, who is with him?. How can I not believe that these were real visits with them? In another dream, I hugged him, and felt his bony, skinny frame under my arms. I know I was holding my son. Too brief, and more infrequent as each year passes, I treasure each visit.