A butterfly in the Garden
Chapter I - A Caterpillar travels from seen to unseen…

It began the day Gary died.
I didn't know anything had begun, but begun it had.

To me this was nothing but a terrible ending and I was stopped, dead in my tracks. I should say forgive the bad pun, but please don't. I experienced the essence of that phrase the moment I heard. I felt dead in my tracks and didn't move, not for a longtime…until the shaking started.

It was early November of '99. The phone rang and I was getting dinner ready as one of my sons answered. “Mom…for you.” I knew right away it was my friend Paul, I know his voice so well; the way he says 'hey babe.' He choked it out; Gary had died a few hours before. Gary's wife Joy had left for work early in the morning and it hadn't been time for Gary to get up. She kissed him, said goodbye, and left. That night she came home. Gary had never gotten up out of bed; he was gone. Paul continued, “Annie, they think his heart ruptured …sweetie, are you there?” I couldn't catch my breath and I couldn't speak without it. “Ann. Please say something.”

I was able to get out a whispered “yes, I'm here.” Paul went on, “Marianne and I are on our way over to Joy's right now, are you going to be OK? We will call you later tonight, I promise.” He was having a hard time keeping control, you could hear it in his voice and having to be the one to tell me…it is one of the hardest things you ever do for someone you love. He said goodbye and still I just stood there. . . .

. . . It was the end of 1999. I had been as excited as most and looking forward to the holidays and the start of a new Millennium. To be able to say you were alive at this time is quite a thing to be able to say. Now I realize that depends on whose calendar you go by, but mine read that we were coming to the end of one millennium and the beginning of the next. It was a big deal. Something you tell your grandchildren, great-grandchildren. The excitement was palpable. So much of the world was getting ready for it, coming together for a special moment in history. That was the good news. The bad news; our computers were quitting at midnight, walking off the job as it were. So many of the world's computers might not be able to handle this particular tick of the clock; or so the theory went. Remember those months?

Well, I didn't care about any of it anymore. The holidays didn't matter; the turning of anything didn't really matter to me. The month of November came and went and I cried my way through it. I took care of my children and my husband and myj ob, but in, through, and around this time mostly I cried. I also found myself working through the grief in another way, besides all the tears, and my mind knew it was an unreasonable way, a way that would seem 'crazy' to many if not most, but at this point in our dialogue you can answer this question. Did I care? I tried to work my way through the grief and pain by continuing a 'conversation' with Gary in my 'head'. There was too much left unsaid between us; too many conversations still in front of us. Too many things had happened that I needed to talk to him about. Of course I knew the dialogue was one-sided…me telling him how very sad I was for him, how much I hurt for Joy, how sorry I felt for me. How much I was going to miss him, his friendship, his hugs…his laughter. I knew I was just talking to myself. Yeah well, did I care? What I didn't expect and truly couldn't have prepared for was when Gary showed back up, in real time and in my real life. Over and over and over he was around. And God knows, it was in ways that only someone who was a master showman like Gary could have pulled off…

The first day I didn't cry within the first few hours of waking was a little over a month after Gary died. It was the day my brother Sean, this one by blood, and his wife Lisa were having an annual Christmas gathering of friends. Sean and Lisa are a very warm, generous and loving couple. I adore them both. I have shared a group of friends with them for a very long time and once a year, around Christmas, this particular group gets together. It is a group of friends that have known and loved each other for many, many years. We had gotten to that stage in our lives where children seemed to be everywhere and jobs and other commitments where in charge, we weren't. This night might very well be the only night that year we would all see each other. There are no children attending this party, no new friends, nobody's parents. Just us. This is one party we all try our best to make.

The kinship of this group is very special in many ways. One being that the love felt and shown for one another is the unconditional love of a true friendship grown over many years. All of us can be ourselves at this party, completely and without reservation. You may show your ass at this party, proverbial or otherwise, and you will get talked about and that's perfectly ok with you. Each of us has had at least one turn at sipping too much of whatever punch we had concocted for ourselves. Everybody's had a year where it all seemed to be too much and needed one night to totally blow off whatever steam had built up; and to know they were safe while doing it. Everyone's had a turn at playing the party's fool and we all know that we are going to be just as loved and just as accepted the day after the party as we were the day before; perhaps more so. It's a very special band of friends indeed.

It was now the one evening, the one holiday event that year I was excited about. I had just lost a very dear friend and Martin and I were going to spend the evening with other friends we deeply loved and rarely got to see anymore. Being with these people was even more special now than it had ever been. I needed this party, badly, and I wasn't going to let anything get me down - at least not that day. I was finally feeling happy about something and I was excited as we pulled into my brother's driveway. Martin gets out of the car and looks up into the clear night sky and sees a shooting star. I told him, “Hold on dear, it could be a crazy night.” I told myself to do the same.

John and Jacquelyn are exquisite hosts. They have a lovely home and a wonderful way of making sure you realize when you cross their threshold you are in your home away from home. Everybody was gathered in the downstairs family room. For that night it is the party room. It contains the bar, pool table area, large television for whatever game is on, a blazing fireplace and of course the doors that look out onto the back garden. It is perfect for a party. We had all been there long enough to hug each other and have a cocktail. I was standing by myself for a moment, leaning against the far wall, taking in the view. I honestly wanted to absorb the room. All these friends, all these smiles, all this love gathered in one spot. I wanted to somehow fill myself up with all the feelings, experiences and emotional comfort I could get me greedy hands on. While I was doing this out of the corner of my mind a thought appeared…

“Oh, Annie! What a great party! Can I come?”

Gary?…Oh no Annie, no you don't! I got angry, very angry with myself. You are not going to get yourself started thinking you are 'talking' to Gary right now. He is gone and you have got to stop these ridiculous conversations…thinking he can somehow 'hear' you! Enough! Just get a hold of yourself please and stop it.

And then I threw what I knew to be impossibility out to the 'thoughts' in my head, 'Gary, if you are really there, I will win the pool tournament tonight, you will attend a great party and we can talk about it in the morning'. I stood up away from the wall and headed out into the room.

I had no way of know that Gary, and many others, were just getting started ‘talking’ to me.

Now of course, I win the pool tournament or there would be no tale to tell. But as with most 'games' in life, it wasn't that I won that is so memorable, so incredible. It was the way it was won.

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