Oh, God, I hope so.
Crazy thing is, every year, around the anniversary of her death, this black butterfly with a blue iridescence, much like her coat, shows up around her grave and ‘pals around’ with me in the back yard all summer.
It’s extremely “friendly” and follows me whenever I’m outside.
Two days ago, I was freaking out because it followed our truck out to the end of the lane and fluttered frantically all around it while himself was checking the mail box.
I was worried it wouldn’t ‘go home’ and might get hit by a car.
Silly but somehow, I think the butterfly has something to do with her.
A sign from God, maybe.
On her grave is a little stone that says, simply, “BELIEVE”.
Or grief has finally made me mad.
Pick one.
But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: 'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
'You must be,' said the Cat, 'or you wouldn't have come here.'
Alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on 'And how do you know that you're mad?'
'To begin with,' said the Cat, 'a dog's not mad. You grant that?'
'I suppose so,' said Alice.
'Well, then,' the Cat went on, 'you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad.'