Monarch in the House
Two months after twenty-one-year-old Desiree Revel passed away, her mother bought a small townhouse. It took a few weeks for her to unpack and organize everything in her new home. “I was living alone now, yet it was important to me that I set up Desi’s things in a special room,” Virginia Revel says. “I knew she wasn’t coming home, but I needed to have a place ready for her anyway. I guess this was my grieving Mom’s reasoning, but it made sense as my way to keep her alive in my heart.”
One Saturday afternoon as Virginia was rearranging her bedroom, she was interrupted by a phone call. As she chatted with a friend, she wandered around the house, room to room, idly straightening and moving small items around. Everything she touched somehow reminded her of Desi, and she felt tears welling up, ready to spill.
Continuing to talk, Virginia walked to the front door, and swung open the heavy oak to let some fresh air in. Almost immediately, a large monarch butterfly flew right past her into the house, as if it had been waiting for the door to open. “Its wings were a brilliant shade of orange, accented with black,” she says. “It fluttered through the living room and continued down the hall toward Desi’s bedroom.” Distracted, Virginia ended her phone conversation and followed the butterfly to where it was flying in lazy loops outside Desi’s doorway.
“It didn’t seem frightened by being inside, or by me,” Virginia recalls. The butterfly went to the other doors in the hallway, seemed to waver near each one, then came back to a spot just outside Desi’s room. Several moments passed while it circled an overhead light fixture, then drifted toward the patio door.
Virginia stood watching, transfixed, peaceful for the first time since her daughter’s death. She was sure this was Desi come to visit her, or at least a sign that Desi was still near her. Wasn’t the butterfly a symbol of new life? Again she watched as the graceful creature rested near the door handle. Carefully reaching over, Virginia slid open the screen door. “The butterfly took its time exiting the house,” Virginia says. “It slowly fluttered around the patio vines and flowers before disappearing into the neighbor’s yard.”
This was the first of many such visits from Desi, Virginia believes, to confirm her spiritual presence. “As long as I keep recognizing the signs, I believe she will keep showing them to me.”
(C) 2004 Joan Wester Anderson www.joanwanderson.com
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