Dragonfly

It wasn’t until very recently that I fully appreciated what Mike was saying when he would tell me our wedding anniversary was between my birthday and his.   With my birthday in August and his in October, I could easily see that our September wedding was between those two months.  However, as I was organizing our blog schedule and looking at the dates, I finally realized what he was saying to me all of these years.  There are exactly 8 days between (August) 22^nd and (October) 14^th… split the difference and you get (September) 18^th. 

We had such a great wedding weekend.

At some point in the evening, I think during the dinner and speeches, there was a huge dragonfly that appeared at the front of the room, by a bright sconce.  The dragonfly took a loopy turn right into the light and there was a small puff—I think we all assumed the dragonfly’s delicate wings suffered a legal zap from the light.  Uncle Michael walked forward to investigate, along with my critter-loving nephew Noah (who was just 3 at the time).  They took a look and found the dragonfly to be quite alive.  At this point I’m not sure how the story ends—I’m only guessing that Michael took the dragonfly outside and released it safely.  Despite all that was going on that day, it was a memorable event for me.

On our wedding anniversary this year, Lucas, Emily and I went to Mike’s cemetery and then on to Brooke Valley to spend an evening with Michael, Coral and the rest of the gang.  Our visits to ‘the farm’ provide me with a strong feeling of being closer to Mike’s very essence.  We are nurtured there by family and by Mike’s love, now our love, of this magical place.  

We arrived home the next day just before lunch.  Before going into the house, we explored our backyard.  Lucas was pouring water into a bucket, intently trying to make a frog house with Emily, his side-kick, helping out (?).   The fact that we didn’t actually have a frog was beside the point!  Floating in one of the containers was a dragonfly.  I stopped and smiled for a minute, then carried on supervising their messy project.  I made the connection to our wedding right away.  When it was time to go inside, we were tracking mud up the front steps.  At that point, I stopped and noticed another dragonfly on the steps.  This one was perfectly preserved but rather than floating in the water, its fragile body was on the step.  This time I stopped and gently picked up the dragonfly and put it in a jam jar ('Bonne Maman' Strawberry Jam, Mike’s favourite kind).  

Now it sits on our mantel.   It reminds me of Mike.  It reminds me of our wedding day.  It provides me with a feeling of hope.  And because of my loss of Mike and my search for healing, I now stop and look more carefully— to take pleasure in what our world has to offer—to attend to the beauty right in front of me—and to behold nature more dearly.