You may have heard of the commonly accepted five stages of grief—Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance—but did you know there is also a sixth stage crucial to the healing process, called Meaning? World-renowned grief expert David Kessler wrote a book about it, called Finding Meaning.
As I read every word—sixteen years after my infant son Ben died—I felt so wonderfully affirmed but also enlightened as to why a certain yellow butterfly still today brings me such joy…and, I didn’t even realize, has played a vital role in my healing.
Kessler writes, “Ultimately, meaning comes through finding a way to sustain your love for the person after their death while you’re moving forward with your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll stop missing the one you loved, but it does mean that you will experience a heightened awareness of how precious life is….” (Finding Meaning, pages 6-7).
Just days after my Baby Ben died, a striking, yellow butterfly fluttered through my backyard. As I sat at my kitchen island crying, the small yet wonderful creature caught my eye.
It was almost as if he wanted to.
And then he kept returning, day after day, week after week, surprising me that summer with his sweet, light, joyful presence. In my devastation and sadness, this butterfly made me smile. I don’t know how to explain it, but I felt like he was a little messenger of Ben, or of God, or both, somehow communicating love to me.
Seeing the butterfly made me happy.
At some point—I think very soon—it felt completely natural calling him “Baby Ben Butterfly.”
And still to this day, almost nineteen years later, Baby Ben Butterfly continues to visit me—not only in my backyard, but in other cities and even countries, too. Last summer, while I was standing atop a sky-high cathedral in a remote city of Portugal, lo and behold, Baby Ben Butterfly found me. And he kept returning to me, again and again, giving me the impression he felt a connection, too!
Truly, every time I see this butterfly, it’s as if my beloved son in heaven is saying “Hi, Mom!” and telling me he loves me…that he’s doing just fine in heaven, but looks forward to our being together again someday.
Seeing Baby Ben Butterfly clearly means the world to me.
But I didn’t realize the full ramifications of that meaning until reading Kessler’s book. For me, seeing a yellow swallowtail butterfly is one of the primary ways my love for my son Ben is sustained.
In a butterfly I have found meaning: I have found JOY and LOVE, so my heart has found HEALING.
Some might think it odd that a simple butterfly could provide me healing, but Kessler gives seven “thoughts” that may guide you in understanding meaning:
- Meaning is relative and personal.
- Meaning takes time. You may not find it until months or even years after loss.
- Meaning doesn’t require understanding. It’s not necessary to understand why someone died in order to find meaning.
- Even when you do find meaning, you won’t feel it was worth the cost of what you lost.
- Your loss is not a test, a lesson, something to handle, a gift, or a blessing. Loss is simply what happens to you in life. Meaning is what you make happen.
- Only you can find your own meaning.
- Meaningful connections will heal painful memories.
Of course there is so much more to say about finding meaning in your mourning, and I absolutely recommend Kessler’s book which you will find on my Resources page. But for now, is there a way you have found meaning in your mourning?
Is there a way that the love you feel for your beloved lives on?
If you have a story you would like to share, I invite you to do so here, as a potential guest on my podcast. I would be honored to witness your story—to dignify your loss and your love—and I thank you in advance for your courage in sharing.
I leave you with a quote from Finding Meaning, pp. 55-56:
“When people go to a hospice or a nursing home, many of them don’t know why there are butterflies painted on the walls. Shortly after the end of World War II, when Elisabeth Kubler-Ross visited different concentration camps, she saw pictures of butterflies etched into the walls everywhere she looked. She found it very strange that people who were dying would draw butterflies. She said it wasn’t until many years later, when she began working with dying children and noticed that they, too, would draw butterflies, that she finally understood why. She realized that for the dying butterflies were a symbol of transformation, not of death, but of life continuing, no matter what. Although your relationship with your loved one will change after death, it will also continue, no matter what. The challenge will be to make it a meaningful one.”
