One year ago Michael died of Brain Cancer. It's still hard to think that he is really gone. I wish Sebastian could have met his Uncle, and I wish Cedric got to know his Uncle better. Goodbyes are so sad!
Here is a butterfly that didn't make it on the releasing of the butterflies. He is the Michael butterfly.
Here is a butterfly that didn't make it on the releasing of the butterflies. He is the Michael butterfly.
Cedric with a butterfly of his own to make a wish on. I hope his wish comes true. :-)
The Native American Legend about the Butterflies:
The Native American Legend about the Butterflies:
If anyone desires a wish to come true, they must first capture a butterfly and whisper that wish to it.
Since they make no sound, they can't tell the wish to anyone but the Great Spirit.
So by making a wish and releasing the butterfly, it will be taken to the heavens and be granted.
I used this poem before for Michael on his birthday, but it's such a fitting poem I had to use it again.
A Poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle Autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush.
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there;
I did not die.
A Poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle Autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush.
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there;
I did not die.