I've never been a "believer"--no church for me, thanks--but have always had a sense of "something" bigger than me. Since Finn's death, I haven't know what to believe, and certainly take no solace or comfort from whatever "god" other people believe in, because what Finn suffered through should not have been allowed to happen if there were such a being. Regardless, I have had a sense at times of Finn's presence, in particular one time last week.
We got a magazine at the house. Patrick was flipping through it, and saw a cool art project. There was a picture of the artist and his son, whose name was...Finn. Patrick goes through a few more pages, and comes across an article about places to see in New Olreans. We are spending our first Christmas (though not celebrating the holiday itself at all) with Finn in...New Orleans. I then go through the magazine, and find a picture of three butterflies together. Butterflies are hugely symbolic in loss/transformation in general, and specifically with Finn. After I saw the butterflies, I couldn't help but cry.
The cynical bitter person inside me knows that this could all be explained away as coincidence. But the mom inside me knows that it can't be dismissed so easily.