My maternal grandfather, who I called in Hakka 'Jia Gong' passed away the day before his birthday in 2006. About a week before, I was visiting and staying with my family in his home and I was sick with a virus that left me shivering in hot and cold sweats in a dark room. He looked after me even though he must have been very ill himself, and I managed to get well enough to make it onto my long flight back to NZ on my own.
I wasn't with him when he passed away, nor could I return for the funeral as it was shortly after I had returned to New Zealand. It weighed heavy in my heart that although we had said goodbye that it had been the last time. So it made me very happy when my mother told me her story - that after her father had passed away she had been visited by an unusual blue butterfly which she thought was his spirit.
The day after my wedding, both our families were celebrating with us and reliving the day's events and happily chatting as we unwrapped our gifts. We'd said goodbye to our last guests and I was putting our gifts away in preparation to go on honeymoon the next day. As I was putting away a bamboo bowl given to us by Dave's Aunt, I thought I saw a scrap of paper inside and I flicked my hand at it to sweep it away. It fluttered at me and I found that it was a strange moth or butterfly with light green wings (iridescent, like the dress my mother wore to my wedding), bright green eyes and a furry white body. It was so unusual I showed Dave, who took a photo.
It sat in the bowl, even when I lifted it out of the bay window and shook it to let it outside. I put my hand inside and it calmly walked onto my palm, letting me open my hand out. Then it flew into the air, hovering a few seconds above my fingers before dancing into the blue sky.
I couldn't sleep that night and I wondered who my moth was. I thought perhaps it was my adopted English Uncle, who'd once told me he'd see me again at my wedding but passed away many years ago. When I told my mother later when we met up again in Malaysia she liked my story. But the morning we were planning to go to visit Jia Gong's resting place she said 'You know, that moth was your grandfather'.
He must have chosen a quiet moment amidst the celebrations so that I would notice.
My sisters, my aunts, my mother and I brought incense, paper gold ingots, fruits, flowers and special foods to the memorial park for our departed family members - also including my aunt and both my paternal grandparents.
When we came to Jia Gong's plaque my heart welled to see his photograph and I took my shoes off to go inside and offer him flowers. My foot brushed past something at the threshold and my little sister said 'Butterfly.'
At my toes, a tiny wing.
As I stood there beside my mother the tape of Buddhist monks chanting faltered and skipped. Jia Gong didn't like to see us crying. Once when I was perhaps nine, he had asked his colleague to bring back the puppies that had been at his office at the brickworks because I missed playing with them.
I felt so blessed. It is something to have had someone in your life who has only ever said to you words of love.
