I've been seeing them ever since Tami died. I know people are probably tired of hearing about her. But, you see, I can't help talking about her. I've always talked about her to people. I have lots of stories. Lots of pictures. Lots of memories.
I assumed they were moths, I though all the brown, black, and white butterflies were moths. But it's possible they're not. I Googled it, of course. She loved butterflies, which is obvious, I guess considering the tattoo.
It was hers and now it's mine. She loved all things Celtic. I have the most beautiful journal she got me in Scotland. I'm rambling.
Anyway, people keep tell me about all the beautiful blue butterflies they've seen since she died. Honestly, I'm a little jealous. I've only seen one butterfly with color in the past five months. Every single butterfly, save that one, has been white. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. There are several outside my new apartment - front and back. There was one fluttering around the pizza place we found. I want to think they're from her. Or of her. Or something. I don't really think that, but I want to.
Today it's been exactly five months since she died. I still feel lost. Alone. Afraid of the future and what it holds and how to handle it without her. And I feel strong. Determined. Capable. But mostly I feel her loss every minute of every day. I miss my friend.