The Wings Of A Butterfly

Mary had always been a trusting soul, she trusted everyone around her and strangers she just bumped into. It was worrisome for those that loved her because they saw her get hurt over and over again. It really didn't matter to Mary that she was hurt or disappointed in those that she granted her trust to for she was able to rationalize it in her mind and continued to smile.

 

Every day was a new day in Mary's mind, she was optimistic and sure that life would bring her the richness of friends, love and respect. Her friends thought of her as a butterfly, beautiful, graceful and inspiring. She was always positive and sure and she spread that attitude among her friends, just as the butterfly spreads pollen among the flowers in the garden. And, just as the butterfly was drawn to the flowers, her friends were drawn to her. They knew that, even when they had let her down, she would be there to make them smile.

 

No one knew just why Mary was so trusting, how she could find the resolve to trust so deeply and care so much. Mary's life had been hard on her, she had been tragically hurt by those that she had trusted. And though the scars that she had were not visible to the naked eye, they were there and they ran through the fiber of her being as if they were what held her together, helped her to stand, see and function. Everyone thought that her hurt would have made her bitter, withdrawn and mistrust, but it was just the opposite for Mary.

 

She was the Butterfly, full of energy, color and purpose. She looked for the good in everyone, and even when a moment of doubt would creep into her mind, when she thought for that brief second that she could not trust she pushed it aside. She never gave into her doubt, even when the situation would arise that would allow her to verify she could trust, Mary would never take advantage of that opportunity. She was very pragmatic in her perspective and she never wavered, always feeling like to do so would make her untrustworthy herself.

 

So it was that Mary would find more hurt in her life, more pain than she ever knew possible.  That pain grew from her trust, and grew within her as a baby growing with the womb of its mother. The pain began a life of its own outside of Mary and within her, becoming noticeable in her face.

 

Mary's eyes took on a deep darkness; they were sullen in appearance and the dark circles under them made her look as if she had been cast in a "B" rated horror flick. She seemed drawn and tired, somewhat expressionless as her smile had all but faded away. Her friends didn't hear from her much anymore and the few that ran into her on the street couldn't help to notice how frail she had become. Her noticeably thin frame didn't glide any longer and it appeared that each step took a concerted effort on her part.

 

Yet, Mary would always force a half-hearted smile and tell her friends she was fine. Those that were self-absorbed accepted it and moved along with their lives, never the wiser to the pain that rested inside of Mary and she was content with that, with being alone in it all. She had, after all, been the one that had made everyone else smile. She was content with knowing that she had been there, been a good friend once upon a time.

 

What pained her now, at this moment in her life, was her own knowing that there was no one there for her, that she was truly alone. Her own parents were long ago gone from this world; her family so far away in miles and she was childless to boot. She had no one to talk to and so she shut herself off from the world both physically and emotionally, only doing the things she had to do to survive, and that was all she was doing.

 

Days turned to weeks and years before anyone realized that Mary had just disappeared from the face of the earth.  No one called her anymore, and there was never a knock upon her door. She had isolated herself within the dark abyss of her apartment. There was no job any longer, Mary had resigned months prior, and no one questioned her leaving, her boss had even suggested that her noticeable unhappiness was simple boredom with her daily tasks, that she needed a change.  She had managed to save enough money during her working days to survive for a long while, and had set up her bills for automatic payment. It was an action that allowed her, so she thought at the time, freedom not to worry and have more time for herself and her friends.

 

It wasn't until the money was gone and her automatic drafts began to be returned that one by one her utilities were turned off and her rent became past due. The landlord had left notices pinned to her door as if they were awards won in a race, one notice turned to two and then five before he himself began to wonder why he saw no lights or heard no movement within the apartment. Had this chipper little girl just left without telling him? It certainly wasn't the Mary he had known, and it was out of character for his longest tenant.

 

It took the landlord three days of consideration before he decided he would knock on the door one more time before he used his pass key to enter the apartment. As he approached the door he had a sense of foreboding that overwhelmed him, his hands clammy and his brow moist with sweat. He knocked lightly at the door at first and then as his anxiety rose within him a little harder. There was no answer, no sounds from within, just an unwelcoming stillness that frightened him.

 

He slipped the pass key from his pocket and placed it into the door lock. As he pushed open the door he reached for the light switch that would illuminate the darkened apartment. As it clicked into the upward position nothing happened, the apartment was blanketed in the still darkness of a cold winter's night. There was an overwhelming sense of doom that filled him as he reached into his pockets to grab his cell phone to use the flashlight on it to see what the darkness had hidden from him.  His hand trembling as he managed to clutch on to the mobile device.

 

For an instant he thought about using his phone to call the authorities, but for what, he didn't know that there was anything wrong in the apartment, he didn't know what hid from him in the darkness. The uncertainty gave him hope that all he would find was emptiness looming inside the walls, that Mary had just moved out  without notice. As he turned on the flashlight he saw Mary's furniture, and a tidy space without any signs of life. Only then did he try to reconcile within his mind that all was still right, she had just forgotten to pay the electric bill.  This was, after all, the way the apartment always appeared when he had the occasion to come in.

 

He moved further into the apartment, the flashlight guiding his way as the stench of rotting food began to fill his nostrils. The trash can was full, overflowing in fact, and he assumed now that Mary had left in a hurry, simply forgetting to empty the trash. He moved further into the apartment, this time wondering if someone might not have kidnapped Mary, taken her bright light with them. He thought about how he could not forgive himself for not checking in on her if someone had taken her, if she had been the victim of foul play.

 

As he walked into the bedroom he realized that he would never be able to forgive himself and tears began to fill his eyes. He thought about running, just calling the authorities, but he couldn't he was frozen in time and space for what he saw chilled him into disbelief. There upon the bed, in a beautiful flowered summer dress laid Mary. Dead flowers in vases surrounded her in the neatness of her room.  He thought about the ironic image that he was seeing, the flowered dress, the dead and wilted daisies and the butterfly that had been Mary.  The butterfly was gone and so were the flowers, for without her they too had died.  In the hand of the butterfly that laid across her chest was a piece of paper that he dare not touch, despite the fact that he knew she was gone, he could not approach her.

 

With tears flooding his eyes and grief ripping at his heart, he slowly backed out of the room, out of the apartment. As he reached the hallway he leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, weeping uncontrollably now, his hands covering his face. He mustered the strength to dial 911 and sat there alternating between tears and silence as he tried to come to terms with what he had just witnessed. He knew that it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

 

The police arrived to find him still sitting on the floor. He attempted, as best as he could, to explain what he had just seen. There was no explanation, for he himself did not understand, he couldn't explain it, comprehend why such a light as what swelled inside of Mary had gone out. He just knew it was gone and somehow he felt responsible. He wouldn't understand, even when the police handed him the piece of paper that Mary had clutch to her breast.

 

It read, "Two years ago I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Breast Cancer. The doctors told me I wouldn't survive. As I walked through my own grief I realized that no one was there for me. I was alone and scared, my friends didn't ask what was wrong or reach out to me. The positive light inside began to go out and I knew that whatever happened to me it would happen alone, that I would go into the light through the darkness. If you are reading this now, know I am in a better place, surrounded by beauty, forgive yourself and forgive me for my pain was unbearable, my life tenuous."

 

At that moment he knew that he had failed as a human and that he had failed Mary and he knew that his failure wasn't one that he would suffer alone for all that knew Mary had failed her. He knew that she should not have been alone, and he wondered if the forgiveness that Mary had spoken of in her letter would ever come for him, for all those that she had known. And, in her final moments of life, he realized that Mary was still Mary, that she had put those that she had loved before herself and she had forgiven them in her darkest moment for she had always ridden on the wings of the butterfly.

"Silence in the darkness is not a comfort, it simply reminds us how alone we truly are"  (me 2013)