Death and White Butterflies

 So the other day I mistakenly texted something to my cousin Barry, instead of my usual recipient, Dr. Barry. Cousin Barry loved --probably some politically incorrect humor my friends and I share -- or maybe the type of hot woman Wifey loathes when she sees it. Whatever.

Barry used it as an excuse to call, and we caught up. My first cousins are all third generation Bridge and Tunnel Jews -- grew up in the suburbs surrounding The Bronx, where our parents were born and raised. But Barry has totally kept his identity -- he talks like he could be a Jewish associate of the Sopranos -- lots of Yo! and Geez!

He's 69 and grew into a Trump Republican, like many of my cousins have, even though we all started out Democrats. The leftward shift of the party of our grandparents and parents has done the trick.

Anyway -- Barry married a lovely woman when he was in his early 20s -- Jackie, who hailed from England. Jackie was a favorite immediately -- smart, funny, and immediately adapted into the world of NY Jews. Barry and Jackie had one child, a son, later in life, and he's turned into a charming young man -- a salesman like his Dad -- smart but uneducated.

Jesse is even more of a Trumper. We're FaceBook friends, and he often gets put into FB jail for anti vax, the election was stolen sort of crap. Jesse got married a few weeks after D2 and we were invited, but skipped out. But it worked out -- they then invited "Plan B" guests, and so other folks got to go. We sent a generous gift.

Well -- at the wedding, Jackie was on her last legs -- ravaged by early onset Alzheimers.  Barry was a wonderful caregiver -- kept her home to the last, with the help of nurses. He adored Jackie, and her death devastated him.

When we spoke the other day, though, he shared with me the details of  Jackie's ending. She was cremated, and paid the funeral director extra to have her cremains (love that word) spread in the Atlantic quickly. Barry found out the cremains languished -- the guy was waiting for more customers before chartering the boat -- and Barry was livid.

He's a big, tough guy, and told the fellow if Jackie wasn't interred in the sea right away, the funeral director would be. He complied.

A few weeks later, Barry and Jesse and Jesse's wife went to the beach, to offer a prayer. Here's where things got unusual. Barry reported that as they were by the seaside, a gorgeous white butterfly flew by -- and he had never before seen one there. He took it as a message from his beloved wife.

I got some chills when he told me that, and then, though it's not easy to get in words with my talkative cousin, shared my tale.

Back in May of 2013, when we had my Mom's cremains, I took Wifey and the Ds to Matheson Hammock, to spread her into Biscayne Bay, an estuary of the Atlantic. We walked through the mangroves to do the task, and WE saw a group of white butterflies, too -- and likewise, in my 40 years of visiting Matheson Hammock, had never seen that before.

So -- who knows? Jackie and my mom Sunny always really dug each other. Were they likewise talking to us together from the Great Beyond? It sure is a beautiful thought.