Love finds its way home

Even years after losing Minjeong, there was still one thing you couldn’t explain.

It first happened a few weeks after her funeral, exactly forty-four days after her death.

The air felt unusually heavy that day, and the house was unbearably quiet. Everything seemed to remind you of her absence.

Her favorite mug still on the counter where she left it that morning. Her cardigan still draped over her favorite chair, and the smell of her perfume still lingering on the pillows and blankets.

Photo albums and memorabilia of her is scattered all over the living room. Even a grocery list she wrote was still stuck to the fridge just as she left it.

Everyone’s been telling you that you need to start putting her things away. That eventually, you had to move on.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

How can you when it feels like they’re the only things keeping you afloat?

The kitchen, which was once a lively place, filled with memories where the two of you cooked and ate your meals together, was now unrecognizable. Dishes piled up in the sink, dirty utensils all over the counter top, and wrappers and cups of instant ramen all over the floor. You don’t remember the last time you ate a proper meal, and frankly, you didn’t care.

You were pouring boiling water on another cup of instant ramen when it appeared.

A pale, Ivory White Monarch butterfly.

It fluttered its wings quietly above your head for a bit before settling on a wilted flower your mother gave you on the day of her funeral.

You stared at it for a while.

You knew a decent amount about butterflies, Minjeong used to tell you lot about them. She loved butterflies, especially Monarch butterflies. She used to say that they were the most majestic creatures in the world.

You also remember one time she told you that they only come in shades of orange and black.

So how come the one you’re looking at right now is Ivory White?

Ivory.

Minjeong’s favorite color.

You can’t explain it, but the butterfly felt familiar. You were looking at the butterfly before it flew again, this time stopping right in front of your face. It flapped its wings softly while you just stood there, dumb founded, still wondering where this butterfly came from.

Then it hit you, people might call you crazy but it made sense to you.

“M-Minjeong?”

Then, as if it understood you, the butterfly twirled and circled around your head.

It was ridiculous. Impossible even. Are you really talking to a butterfly right now? Your mind tried to reason with you, that this is too far, resorting to talking to a butterfly instead of seeking professional help.

But your heart refused to listen. It knows what it’s feeling. And you’ve only ever felt this way whenever Minjeong was around. That it was no coincidence you felt that way again as soon as the butterfly came. It flew around your head a little longer before it flew away.

You followed its path to the living room, watching it fly past all her scattered belongings before it finally rested on a picture frame.

Inside the frame was a picture of you, her, and your daughter, Haein.

A surge of emotions suddenly went through you, but what stood out the most was guilt.

Not just guilt of losing her, not just the guilt of living, but the guilt of what came after.

Because when Minjeong died, you didn’t just grieve her. You let yourself disappear into it. You let grief win. You stopped showing up the way you’re supposed to for your daughter. You stopped living for the one person who still needed you the most.

Not only did you lose your wife, but because you let yourself be consumed by you sadness and your grief, you were slowly losing your daughter too.

It came to a point where your parents had no choice but to step in. They suggested that maybe it was best for the two of you if Haein stayed with them for the time being. Atleast until you were ready to start being her father again.

What’s worse was you didn’t even try to fight it, to fight for her. You convinced yourself that this is what’s best for her, that she’s gonna be taken care of better if she stays with them.

But you couldn’t be more wrong. Because what she needed back then was you. She didn’t need you to be perfect, she didn’t need you to be happy. She just needed you to be there, and you couldn’t even do that for her.

Not only did she lose her mom, but because of your decisions, you also made her feel like she’s losing her dad too.

Maybe that’s why Minjeong decided to show up today. She’d always been the one who smacked you at the back of your head whenever you were doing something dumb. And now, even in death, she was still the one who was keeping you in line.

The butterfly lingered, as if Minjeong was making sure that you will do something to make things right.

And you did. Later that day, you finally decided to reach out to your parents. You told them that you wanted to start trying again. That you didn’t want to succumb to your grief, that you wanted to rise above it and be who Haein needs you to be.

To be there for her. To be her father again. To show up in behalf of not just yourself, but Minjeong too.

The butterfly stayed until your eyes felt heavy and you drifted off to sleep, it was the first time in a while where you were able to sleep properly.

Because that night, is the first time in a while that you didn’t feel like you were drowning.

After that day, the butterfly kept coming back. It was there for everything. Whether it be something big, or something small, it was always present.

At first you’d tell yourself that it was just a coincidence. Still refusing to believe that Minjeong has manifested herself to be a beautiful butterfly. One that she would have loved to see if she was still alive.

But months passed, and coincidence stopped making sense.

You could always tell when the butterfly arrives. You immediately feel lighter, as if something inside you loosens without warning.

Whenever the butterfly arrives, the air doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. The silence doesn’t feel as empty. Even the feeling of grief pauses for a moment and gets replaced with something familiar. Something you can’t quite explain with words, but something your heart immediately recognizes.

A quiet reminder that she’s there, always looking out for you and Haein at all times.

One afternoon, while you and Haein are playing at the backyard, Minjeong decided to visit again. It doesn’t surprise you anymore, in fact you started to anticipate it.

What surprised you this time is Haein.

You were watching her peacefully when the butterfly hovered near her face.

“Mama,” she said, reaching for the butterfly.