Believe it or not: a flurry of butterflies accompanied my taxi for the first mile as I left the hotel for the airport out of Goa. The cabbie pointed them out to me as he thought it was unusual. Ha! He had no idea just how unusual. The golden yellow dazzlers pulled me out of my reverie…the past 11 months’ memories as ephemeral as their shimmery wings, a gossamer counterpoint to my heart laden with heavy emotions as I said goodbye to Goa. I was on my way home but not before a short four day decompression period at our friend Ritu’s condo in Gurguaon, New Delhi– the same neighborhood as the Trident Hotel where Scott and I began our Indian odyssey. My first night away from Goa I discovered a Taj Mahal post card Scott had tucked into my suitcase from the beginning of our trip. A place for lovers, you + me!
Going home was going to be tough. Our home was a place for lovers, too. You + me. We. Us. Ours. The last months of his life he gave me enough I love you!’s to last me awhile, if not a lifetime. But when I returned to High Point I found Scott had written love notes to me in advance, dated them, and placed them strategically where I would find them. On the back of an old forgotten framed kama sutra painting from India he wrote something too intimate to share on this blog and dated it Oct, 3 days before WE go to India….on the fridge a you + me always and forever tucked into a favorite picture of us…art museum tickets with more private messages arrived inside a box of chotchkes we sent home from Hong Kong the first week of our trip, only to be revealed to me once I unpacked it.
Those were the things Scott deliberately did to express his love for me. He wanted to help me remember the happiness and the fun instead of the horrible illness.
But in addition to his carefully planned notes, I received some convincing synchronistic mystical messages that appeared within the first 24 hours of my arrival home. The first? A painting Scott did that last hectic week in High Point, a butterfly prominently featured in a lush tropical setting conjuring up Goa prior to our being there.
Soon after I came upon a beat up suitcase that had obviously been considered for the trip but then discarded on our bedroom floor. As I picked it up, a book I had never seen before about near death experiences was inside the luggage and a museum pamphlet with a painting of butterflies was peeking out from the book. A few hours later near his paint brushes I found a charming little antique embroidery of a butterfly that I had also not been aware of previously. Yet another butterfly painting– this one done by a friend and given to Scott when he was in hospital the first time he had cancer a few years back– fell (flew?) off a nearby shelf as I walked by.