Butterfly Kisses
In ancient Greece butterflies signify the souls of those who have passed away. In my world that is exactly what a butterfly represents. Him and I always had a special connection when it came to them, and since he’s passed I feel as though he continues to live on through a butterfly.
My grandmother, Lauretta, married “Cappy” Coppola shortly after I was born. In my eyes he was my grandpa, just without the label. To get technical he was my grandma’s second husband. I never met her first husband, only because he sadly passed from a heart attack on Christmas Eve when my mom, the youngest of the five Meehan children, was thirteen years old.
For as long as I can remember once every last day of school rolled around, Grammy and Cappy would come and pick up my sister, Nicole, and I from school and take us to there small 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom home in Stamford, Connecticut. Yes, their house had only two bedrooms, yet Grammy had raised five children in that very house.
We would race to the back door to see who would get to open the door with “Taylor.” Grammy referred to the house key as Taylor because that was the name engraved on the silver key. Majority of the time, I would win and would be the first to open the door to the house smelling lemonade and freshly toasted bagels, Nicole’s and my favorite meal.
We would all eat lunch, Nicole and I at the big island with the tall white swivel chairs, and Grammy and Cappy would sit at the dining room table reading their books as they ate. Like clockwork we would all finish our lunch and than clear off the table for our first of many domino games. The girls would be the ones to take everything off the large tan colored table, while Cappy would go into the bedroom and come back with the black rectangular case. The four of us would play a few games until Cappy and I would go out into the yard to weed and water the plants. He always called me his little helper.
Cappy had a smile that could warm anyone’s heart. He gave the best hugs, and had a distinct scent from his after-shave. He was the best guy to take a nap with. Up until the time he passed away him and I would always work in the yard, come in for lunch, than sit on his dark green plaid chair in the living room, me always falling asleep on his lap.
He always wore a polo with either pants or shorts. He had a full head of hair for his age, even though it was all gray. He wore huge oval shaped glasses with a thin silver frame around them. His favorite thing was always being in the yard or pushing us on the tire swing that hung from the only tree in the yard.
Summer came and went, and Nicole and I would start school again. I was starting second grade and Nicole fourth. Another school year had flown by, and it was finally time for my eighth birthday. Grammy had crocheted me a pink, purple, and white blanket and we all ate an ice cream cake from Carvel. Cappy’s health had been on a slow decline for a few weeks leading up to that June. Little did I know, that my eighth birthday would be the last one I would get to spend with him.
A few weeks later, he was in the hospital. His health had taken a turn for the worse and my mom kept telling me it wasn’t going to be much longer. Nicole and I wanted to do something special for him that summer. We decided to breed butterflies from caterpillars; recording the whole process so we could tell him how much we loved and missed him and how we couldn’t wait for him to come home.
We brought the tape to the hospital to play for him. “Hi Cappy! Its me, Meghan.” I said as I sat on the edge of his bed. He reached for my hand and held it in his. His hands were stone cold and sent a chill down my spine. I pressed the play button and all you could hear was our squeaky voices. I let it play all the way through, gave him butterfly kisses and a hug. He slowly let my hand fall from his. Little did I know that it would be his last gesture to me.
The next morning is one of the worst memories I have. I woke up and walked down the cold hard wood floor of my house only to find my mom and dad coddling Nicole on her bed. They were all crying and I asked my mom what happened. She could hardly answer me. My dad whispered “Meg, its Cappy. He passed last night in his sleep.” My whole world crumbled around me. My best friend was gone, and I did not know what to do or how to react.
The funeral came way to quickly. We all put on our best outfits, and drove to St. Mary’s Church. It was a perfect summer day. The sun was shining and there was a light breeze that smelt of fresh cut grass and all you could hear was the priest reading amongst sniffles and tears falling.
The priest finished his reading, and it was time for the family to say there last good byes. I walked up to the casket and let my fingers run along the smooth veneer finish. I turned to walk back towards the car when I noticed that there were beautiful butterflies of all different colors flying all around the ceremony.
Today during all the events I’ve gone through and wished Cappy could have seen, there is always a butterfly flying over my head. I miss the butterfly kisses he used to give me, but they are a constant reminder that no matter where life takes me, Cappy is watching over me.
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