Flying With The Angels by guest author Melissa Huie

Rachel Thompson

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Flying With The Angels by guest author Melissa Huie

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I’m honored to host author Melissa Huie (The Broken Road) here today with a touching tribute to her mother, and a cool story about a butterfly. Please give Melissa some love at the bottom in comments and check out her excellent book.

This day holds particular meaning for her. I’m so glad she decided to share it with us.

 

 

Flying With The Angels 

 

Everyone has that moment in time, when your life as you know it has changed. That moment was mine, eight years ago today.

 

Frozen in time, my memories from that day still go thru my mind every day. Eight years ago, I was a twenty-three years old, with a husband and one year old daughter. I had just gotten home from work, enjoying the brief respite from mommyhood as my daughter was with my in-laws for the night. I was making a snack in my grey kitchen and on the phone with my friend Courtney, when a call beeped in. Checking the caller id, I saw it was my then brother-in-law, Xavier. The call changed my life.

 

“You need to get here quickly. Rocky found your mom, she wasn’t breathing. They took her to the hospital.” My heart stopped and I let out a cry of panic. I screamed for my husband, who ran quickly into the living room. We beelined for the car. The drive to West Virginia was the longest hour and half of my life. As we drove down the Dulles Toll Road in Loudoun County, I frantically made the calls to my mother’s three sisters. Listening to my aunt Barbara screaming her prayers to God to save my mother broke my heart even more. Then, the call came from Xavier, telling me to go to the house and not to the hosptial. I screamed the question, the dreaded question that my family demanded from me. I knew, deep down, the answer already.

 

“Is she dead, Xavier? Is my mom dead?”  He choked on his sobs as he answered yes. I screamed. My husband shouted in disbelief. I hung up with Xavier and made the calls to my aunts. Listening to their sobs, their cries of despair, killed me. We got to the small home that my mother shared with my two stepsisters and my stepfather, Rocky. My younger sister, Laura, had already arrived and sobbed in my arms.

 

The week was the longest week of my life. As the calls were made and the arrangements were decided, we grieved. I grieved the loss of my best friend, of the best mother I could ever know. My mother was an amazing woman. She didn’t cure cancer; she didn’t go to the moon. She had her faults. But she was my mother; the mom who made me a full Thanksgiving dinner for my birthday because of pregnancy cravings. The same mom who taught me how to drive, to stand-up for myself in the face of bullies, to say no to friends who didn’t have my best interest in mind. The same mom who was there for me whenever I had a problem, allowed me to curse her out then cry on her shoulder, asking for forgiveness. At the funeral, her closest friends, her family, her business partners, all came together to celebrate her life. To tell me stories about how her good-natured laugh and kind heart touched their lives.

 

At the burial, I stood beside my husband, family and friends, listening to the pastor speak. I could see my daughter chasing butterflies close by, under the watchful eye of my sister-in-law. I happen to glance at the pastor, when I saw a butterfly land on his bible. He said, “Bless you,” and the butterfly flew away.

 

After the service, my husband, stepfather and I went back to my stepfather’s house, where he lived with my mom, where she died. We walked onto his front porch, and there was a butterfly, very similar to the one that landed on the bible. My stepfather told the butterfly, “I’ll be fine Nancy. I love you,” and walked into the house. When we came back out, the butterfly was still there. Shockingly, he bent down and the butterfly landed onto his finger. Rocky gently pressed his lips to beautiful creature and the butterfly fluttered over to the railing. Amazed, I did the same thing. I held out of my finger, gently brought it to my lips, and said a prayer. A prayer of thanks. And said goodbye.

 

But I never truly got to say goodbye. My mom was taken from our lives in such a swift and cruel manner; I am still coming to grips with it.  It kills me everyday when I can’t call her and ask her for advice. It breaks my heart when my kids ask about her.  My kids don’t know her, but they know the memories of her and they see her pictures prominently displayed in the house. She wasn’t here for the births of my sons, my niece or my nephews, but I know she’s watching over them. I know she’s watching over us.

 

When writing The Broken Road, I put so many elements of my own life and personality into the story. The urge to put my own mom in the book was overwhelming. I wanted everyone to know her, know that she was my rock in life, my guardian angel, my best friend. In The Broken Road, the mom is Norah. But her personality and heart, is my mom Nancy.

 

I love you, Mom.

 

 

You can find Melissa on Twitter @MelissaHuie or her website. 

 

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Comments

  5. Melissa, your post was such a touching tribute to your mom and the love you had for her. I had tears in my eyes as I read it. I am so lucky to still have my mom and cannot imagine what it must have been like to lose yours at such an early age. I am glad that you are sharing the wonderful person that your mom was with your children and with the world in your book.

    Deep Peace,

    Ardee-ann

    Reply

  10. Melissa, heartfelt and touch post.. 24 years last month since my mum passed on and like you had to do some hard driving, I was six hours away. It was a long lonely drive as we decided that Ishbel and the kids should stay at home and like you I was to late…..

    So much was left unsaid and you feel it more, I think, when you don’t get the chance to say goodbye and thanks for always being there, even when we ‘didn’t necessarily think we needed you’ but you always knew best!

    It’s a lovely thought to think maybe her spirit inhabited the butterfly to say goodbye

    Thanks for sharing

    Reply

    • Tom – Thank you for your thoughtful post. Like everyone, I took for granted that she would always be there. So much often goes unsaid. Now I never let a day go by without telling my children, husband and family I love them.

      I have found, that whenever I am having a hard time or I just need her, a butterfly appears. It brings me a little bit of solace, as if she is there to say – I am still here.

      Thanks again,
      Melissa

      Reply

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