Sign Your Name...

Kate, who writes that other blog that I read regularly, wrote yesterday about something I was also considering writing about.
It's funny, our situations are so different in many ways, but there have been many times in the last few months when things happen almost exactly the same way, sometimes at almost exactly the same time for both of us. This was one of them.

Kate wondered how she was going to sign cards and letters now that one of her kids is no longer with her. I had the same dilemma yesterday, so when I read her blog I got a real sense of deja vu.

Yesterday I was writing a card for a lovely neighbour of mine who has just had a baby. I was stumped about how I was going to sign the card. In the end I just signed it 'Mel, Anthony and Oliver. xx', but as soon as I'd given it to her I started thinking about what I should have signed for Sam. I was going to blog about it too; the guilt I felt and how I wanted to go over with a pen and change it (I haven't).

Of course, since I read Kate's blog, I've been thinking about it even more. Luckily (I think it was also thanks to her blog and the comments that followed) I think I've come up with something.

I've told you the story of the dragonfly, and how it has become an important symbol for us. It's obviously touched a few people, as I keep receiving lovely dragonfly-related items: My lovely new sister-in-law painted this for Sam's birthday:
One of our close friends bought me a cute dragonfly bookmark:
And my cousin (well, Anthony's cousin's wife) dropped a cute dragonfly magnet in the letterbox:
It gives me a lovely warm feeling when this stuff happens.

My mum and dad are no exception. They went away recently, and when they came back, along with a couple of dragonfly stamps; and a magnet, they had bought me a dragonfly shaped paper punch.
It's a lovely little thing, and I think it's just right for the job. I'm going to buy some orange stickers or contact (orange was Sam's favourite colour) and put one on each letter or card I send from our family. I think (for now) it's a good solution. So if you receive a card or letter from us that includes this little fella, that's why.

The Dragonfly

You may (or may not) have noticed a dragonfly on the mural. Today I'd like to tell you about it.

A few days after Sam's funeral, a good, old (not old as in elderly, but old as in I've known her since high school) friend called and told me she was going to drop something off for us. A little while later she drove up, put an envelope in my hand, and then drove off again.

In the envelope was a letter, and a lovely dragonfly ornament (which now hangs just below a framed photo of Samuel - the one we had on display at his funeral - in our lounge room) :
In the accompanying note, my friend told us about how at the funeral, she and our other friends watched a dragonfly fly into the chapel, perch on the curtains (near where Samuel's friends were standing) for a while, and then hover over our (Sam's family) heads. Apparantly it did so for a while, and then flew away.

I had never noticed the dragonfly, and neither had Anthony or Oliver, but my Dad had seen it near the curtains.

In some cultures, dragonflies are a very significant. They are different things to different people, but commonly they are said to represent renewal, positive forces, and change. The native Americans believe that dragonflies are the souls of the dead.

Now as I have said before, I'm not an enormously spiritual person, but for some reason this story touched me. Some of it was that my lovely friend had also been so touched by this that she went out of her way to find the dragonfly ornament, but some of it was also a hope that the dragonfly was (in some way) telling us that everything was OK.

Maybe it was just a coincidence (there are many water features in the grounds of the crematorium), but then again, maybe it was the spirit of Sam. I'm not prepared to discount that altogether, even though I don't know if I understand it.

Whatever the explanation, all of us were happy to take on the dragonfly as a symbol for Sam. Dragonflies are beautiful things, and it gave us something tangible to plant a memory in. Some would say we are silly, superstitious, maybe even hypocritical considering my feelings about religion and 'the soul', but it has been a nice symbol to use.

I felt so strongly about it, that I bought this brooch in Merimbula (please excuse the picture quality, I will take a better one later):
I never buy jewelery, in fact, I hardly even wear it, but I was drawn to this and Anthony convinced me to buy it. I think it's beautiful.

It's funny too, we never noticed (or saw) dragonflies in the past, except this one that landed on the door of our unit when we first went to Merimbula in 2004:
But now we see them everywhere. I know it's because of a consciousness thing (we're subconsciously looking for them?), but it still gives us a little thrill when we see one. When we went to Merimbula in January, one was flying along with us as we drove through Mimosa Rocks National Park; when we went blackberry picking recently there was one just sitting on a plant; and Anthony told me about the one that hovered around him while he was working in the back yard, then hovered over the playground (we have a big playground in out backyard that we bought when Oliver was born, so that Sam would have something to do if baby care got too boring for him), flew around the yard a bit and then flew off.

Each time this has happened we think of Sam, and a little bit of us believes that it's him keeping an eye on us. I kinda like that he is...