Yesterday night,a butterfly flew into the house as I opened our front door. I tried to shoo it away, leaving nearby doors and windws open. It didnt work. I left for work last night,the butterfly still fluttering around the edges of our ceiling.
Being Filipino, I half-believed old superstition that says butterflies are manifestations of the departed.That belief has survived almost 400 years of colonial rule and cultural subjugation. Who am I to argue its validity? Anyway, I forgot all about it and went to work.
This morning, I came home and started doing the laundry. Since I usually come home at around 5:30 am, I had time to do some chores before I went to sleep. I was halfway done when I noticed the butterfly. It had come outside and was sitting on the cement floor right next to the door. As gust after gust whipped by, it sat there unmoved, wings swaying almost violently at times to the breeze. I was struck by a sudden realization. It had come to my home to die. And I was amazed by the stillness of the poor thing. It's as if it had accepted its fate and was at peacae with it.
I then turned to myself. I knew I was afraid to die. I feared death just like any other person. I often wonder if I will come to peace with my own passing, once it comes. After I finished the last of the laundry, I glanced at the butterfly one more time. It lay lifeless on its side, the breeze still blowing upon its wings as if telling it to fly one last time. Alas, it will fly no more. The flutter of its wings has been extinguished forever. I felt a tear form in my eye, but I knew it not for the butterfly, rather for myself.