Page 101 of Broken Butterfly
I only have to glance up to glimpse the Butterfly.
And I know you are with me,
My ascending angel.
Cascading tears flow down my face as the sentences take shape and my heart breaks all over again at the hollow feeling of loss in my heart. I think about Hailey’s “Broken Butterfly” poem as I touch the place on my side where my own butterfly tattoos live as a beautiful reminder in place of my tragic scars. My hand drifts down to my abdomen. I wonder if I knew she was growing in there when I was in a coma? Did she feel my love for her? Were my mind and body, even though damaged, able to give her love?
Jayson lifts me up in his arms and cradles me against his solid form as we cry together.
“Why, Jayson?” I sob into his chest, hoping to absorb some of his strength.
I can feel him swallowing, trying to find the words to comfort me but not being able to do so. There is no answer as to why. Our baby was a victim of a deranged psychopath. I would have given my life in an instant if it meant saving hers.
Gently lowering me back down, Jayson reaches into his pocket. “Daddy loves you, baby girl,” he whispers, kissing a locket just like the one he gave me, then placing it on the ledge of her gravestone. I try my best to dry my eyes but it’s futile. I doubt the tears will stop anytime soon.
I kiss my fingers and place them on the mouth of the statue of the little fairy girl. “Mommy loves you too, sweet girl.”
Jayson leans over to open the canvas bag we brought with us. He lifts out a large blanket and smooths it flat on the grass for us to sit on. Jayson’s parents are with Julien and Ryder back at the hotel. They’re going to arrive later to allow me and Jayson some private time alone with our daughter first. He hands me my guitar which I brought with me on the plane. Sitting down on the blanket, Jayson guides me down to settle between his outstretched legs.
“Sing for our little girl, Liz. Let her hear her mommy’s beautiful voice,” he says, resting his face next to mine over my shoulder. I nod and begin to strum. It takes me several tries before I’m able to find my voice without getting choked up. I sing her the song that meant so much to me and Jayson. The song I sang to him that night in the backyard. The one he played at prom when he dropped to his knee and gave me his promise ring. So many memories and so much loss for such a short amount of time. As I sing, Jayson wraps his hands around my waist and settles them across my stomach like he’s trying to imagine Elizabeth Ann growing inside of me.
“Do you remember my wish? The one I wrote you on the silver star?”
I think of that night. About Jayson, the fairy lights, our tree, and the silver origami stars. How much I loved him. How much I wanted his wish to come true. “Yes, I remember.”
“I think she would have looked just like you. Bright green eyes and pale blond hair.”
“Silver eyes,” I tell him. “She would have had your silver eyes.” He hums as he pictures it. “She would have wrapped you around her little finger. Definitely would have been a daddy’s girl.”
“You think so?” He chuckles and kisses my neck.
“Oh, absolutely.”
“We would have spent every summer at the beach so I could teach her to swim. Maybe put in a swimming pool in the back yard.”
“I would teach her how to play the guitar and piano.”
“And drums,” he adds. “Her voice would have sounded like tinkling bells when she laughed. She would be smart like her mom.” He smiles, kissing my shoulder, his hands gripping tighter around my waist.
“And brave and strong like her dad.”
“No Liz. You are the strong one. So much stronger than I could ever hope to be.”
A sharp slice of pain hits me deep inside my chest. Pain caused by a life and dreams I once had that were all wrapped in and belonged to Jayson. Our love, our future, our children, our past. Everything Jayson would tell me he wished for. Jayson was my prince and I was his princess. All of it now gone because of one fatal night over a year ago and the fact that I had loved and will always love Ryder. I want to tell Jayson I’m sorry. I want to beg for his forgiveness. I want him to find a life of happiness and love knowing it will never be with me.
I set my guitar down and turn so I can look Jayson in the eye. “Jayson, promise me that no matter what happens between the two of us, we will always come here on her birthday and spend time with our daughter.”
“Liz.”
“Promise me, Jayson. No matter what.”
“I promise. No matter what,” he replies in a hushed voice and crushes me to him in a fierce embrace. We stay that way for a long while, holding each other as we look upon Elizabeth Ann’s gravestone.
“Want to readGoodnight, Moonto our daughter?”
Jayson and I have been making a list of the things we would have done with Elizabeth Ann this past year if she had been born. On that list are some of the books we would have read to her at night, songs we would have sung to her, places we would have taken her. We both wrote her letters and I purchased a weather-proof lockbox for us to put them in. We’re going to bury the box next to her grave and add to it every time we come back.
Jayson reaches inside the canvas bag again and takes out the children’s picture books we ordered. We’ve got about a dozen of them we want to read to her. He hands meGreen Eggs and Ham. It was one of my favorites when I was little.
