metamorphosis.

Dear Dad,

Maya Angelou said, "We delight in the beauty of the butterfly but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty". In truth, we rarely pause to honour what it has endured to become so. We admire the wings but often forget the waiting, the breaking, the becoming. And so, in honour of your life and it's impact on mine, I want to honour the beauty of the butterfly by taking time to acknowledge the strength, faith and resilience of the caterpillar who pushes on despite the hardship and fear and challenges, but instead trusts and evolves as divinely orchestrated, to leave us with the lesson that everything happens in divine timing.

Your time here was decided by a power higher than us to liberate you from the suffering and pain of this wordly life and elevate you into the peace and freedom that awaits us. And I am reminded that,

Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over,

it became a beautiful butterfly.

And your timing in our life was divinely curated in the most perfect ways. I remember with such clarity and precision when you joined our life. And I am so grateful for my mother who brought you into our lives to be raised in your presence, with your generous and loving spirit. Who endured and struggled alongside you to protect you from yourself and support your journey in the best ways she knew how to.

I remember the small silver beaten up car your brought from New York, full of your wonderful, magical and curious trinkets and things. I was 8 years old. I remember that we used to call you Uncle at first. We would take our time to understand who you would be to us but because of your gentle, calm and curious nature we were so comforted in your presence, Dad.

We loved every.single.thing you brought to our lives.

The excitement, the fun, the wonderment and joy in the little things, in nature. the intricacies. the change. the evolution.

the divine beauty of the butterfly stands out.

As children you taught us so many lessons. Teaching us how to care for wounded animals, how to rejoice in the abundant and beautiful nature around us. Cottages, fishing. Oh how you could set up the most perfect things, like collecting the giant water jugs from water filters and with such precision, cutting off the lids (but keeping one side attached so no one could jump out) and filling it with lake water to hold our catches so we could wonder at them before releasing them. I do this now. with my own kids. I take them fishing, you taught me those things, to be delicate and strong in the presence of nature. I put the worms without question, I unhook the fishes, and I create the watching containers to enjoy. Some of the best parts of me are because of the beautiful lessons and influence you gave me. I only wish for more. I know maybe it is selfish but I wish you could have stayed for longer or at least closer so I could have had you around for more. my kids would have loved you. L is the best version of herself when she is immersed in nature, she can be found in creeks catching fish, bugs, animals, she is us. and K, he is nervous sometimes, but gentle, curious and always building, inventing, striving, creating, confident, and oh so loving. he is us too. they too are the often quiet and introspective beings we both are.

I wish I could enjoy the yellow Corvette one more time, licence plate GUNJET. and maybe not with the awkwardness of a pre-teen who was likely embarrassed by your iconic style.

If I am being honest, I often also feel regret about how I could have been to you. I wasn’t an easy child. I was filled with confusion and a lot of hurt that I could only express in anger, but you were so patient, kind and gentle. You never pushed me, argued with me or were upset with me. You were rational, reasonable, inspiring. I just want to say that,

there is so much I didn't know then, that I know now.

One of them is that even as a beautiful mind, the kind that doesn't come around too often, like yours, you were really struggling to navigate your own way. Tested with challenges you never chose, in your body and mind. I want to thank you for your efforts to learn, grow, manage and care for yourself. I think of myself at the same age you were when you learned your diagnosis and I can only imagine how scary and difficult this must have been for you to go from living free to fitting yourself in to function as you were expected, when all you wanted was to be you. I remember learning from a young age what Manic Depression was. I remember the medications were so hard on you. mind altering. always with side effects. they would work for a while and then one side effect or another would send you to another path, but starting them and coming off of them would takes weeks and it was so hard. Lithium sticks out. I understood mania from a child’s point of view because of your endless energy and creativity, in the ways you would love with such intensity and create with such passion, drawing, building, exploring, imagining. But then I would see the ebbs and flows of this in the moments were things would take a turn and despite your best efforts, the difficulties would overcome you and try to silence your energy with the quiet isolation, tired and low moods, but I never felt your sadness in those moments, you needed your space and I never felt let down, only compassion, seeing someone I love unable to function despite how much I know they wanted to.

Still I always felt your presence, your love and how much you believed in us.

You were so intelligent and inspiring. I loved your room. your office. your laboratory. I can still smell and picture the soldiering iron where you could be tinkering with motherboards from the computer and you would warn us to be careful because it was hot. The Grolsh beer in one hand, ciggy in the other hand, Fido Dido pants and comb over, the aviator glasses that were a little tinted. You were the best. I will remember you as the icon you were. yourself. always. unapologetically. Who could ever criticize a soul so sweet and pure, loving and kind? and you know, it is so interesting because ever though you were burdened with such an immense struggle that threatened your stability and sent you oscillating between such extremes, I never really felt afraid of it. I actually viewed you as stable and unwavering, maybe not in adult sense, but in the kind of constant a child needs and deserves at a young age, in the love, in the comfort, in the gentleness and compassion. You were always that to me. Nothing changed that.

As time went on I also remember the difficult moments that we grew alongside you through. I have my own bank of difficulty to contend with. Things I wish I could have handled differently, but I was an angry teenager trying to make sense of a lifetime of hurt with a fiery, explosive intensity that was probably the exact opposite of who you were. And still you were patient and loved me through the confusion.

This is something I wrote some years ago in your memory...

My Dad. A different man. A different ‘father’. Gentle. Kind. Eccentric. Genius. Living in his beautifully unstable world. How much pain he must have felt. Diagnosed and medicated, sometimes sedated. Delicate and beautiful collections of dead butterflies, du Maurier special mild cigarette hanging from one side of his lip, Grolsch on his office desk, rips in his Fido Dido pyjama pants, soldiering iron in one hand, acoustic guitar in the other. As a child I felt wonder, beauty and kindness. And then simultaneously, sometimes I was angry and resentful for the tension I could feel because of your inability to fit into the expectations in front you.

I did not know what I know now. I could not have known. But I wish I did that day.

I looked into the backyard through the glass and saw his figure sitting upright in a chair, ciggy in hand, talking. Talking and talking and talking. I stayed. I stared. I searched. No one appeared to me. I went upstairs angry. In the evening I was forced to take a ride from him to my soccer practice. On the way I interrupted abruptly in the midst of his conversation about finding God or realizing something monumental and asked,

“Who were you talking to today?” You responded so gently.

“No one”, he said. He hesitated.

“Sometimes I get lonely”.

I wasn’t supposed to know. But I wish I did.

The things I would talk to you about today. The things that we would share.

The tears we would cry together.

I could never have known the weight of all of that pain because you never made it my burden. But I have always wished I did. And now I do. And I wish I knew then, the love and support I would have been able to give you weighs heavy on my heart.

I know too what it means to struggle inside your own mind and feel isolated and alone from even the people who love and care for you the most. That no one else can ever understand or feel your pain.

All I can say is have mercy for others.

Do not mock a pain you have not endured.

Truly, no one can ever know the pain and weight someone carries with them, and it is not our job to judge it but to find mercy to accept that there are things in this world that we can not and will not ever understand and we must humbly accept and find mercy in our hearts for that which we were never meant to know.

I couldn't accept it at the time but this is what led me to a dream I always held, especially after you left and I grew into adulthood. Oh how I so wish we could have sat together in a garden somewhere smoking cigarettes and chatting. I would pick your brain and ask you your opinions and thoughts and we would debate and challenge and inquire and explore all of the curious topics that would entice us. I so wish that as I became a more philosophical thinker we could have shared those talks. I will always live with this feeling that I wish for more time and more discussions, but I also will always remember the lessons, “thinking time” over punishment. reflective, contemplative, regulation, discussion and understanding.

I hope I can be more like you.

I remember you used to say this one statement to me all the time, it was like a little innocent child like rhyme but I think you manifested it for me or somewhere you knew that the best way to channel the hurt was in the beautiful darkness and intensity of poetry.

“You are a poet and you don't even know it”

And somewhere in my heart and soul and mind I live my human experience in poetic fashion with intensity and deep sadness and glorious joy. And despite my best attempts, with extreme highs and lows and the full range of human emotion with deep love, compassion and divine connection.

And it is true, as Van Gogh said, "I have Nature and Art and Poetry. And if that is not enough. what is enough?"

Butterflies will always be ours.

I will always think fondly on your collection of butterfly wings, in perfect frames and beautifully kept. You used to explain that only after they die do they collect their wings to preserve. You were protective over them and I understand the beauty in that now. Memorizing metamorphosis. Oscillating between highs and lows. and as my biological d.a.d. holds a space for me in water, in difficult currents, in waves and in reaching for the shore. You are the sky. vast, expansive and full of possibilities. You loved butterflies, you loved helicopters, kites and birds. Oh, how you could curate the perfect feeders to ward off squirrels and would wait, and wait, and wait ever so patiently for the hummingbirds to come, and of course they did.

You loved the possibility in flight and I imagine the world from above, looking down below and knowing and seeing and feeling the immensity of the beauty of nature’s bounty. And even with the threat of it all crashing down, it is always worth it to try to take flight. I see the beauty of flight in your memory.

They say that grieving the loss of someone who is still alive in one of the hardest things you will have to do as a person. I have had to do this in my life twice already, with my d.a.d. and with you, Dad, both while you were alive and now in your death. Both of these fathers in my life faced immense struggles with their mental health. It changed the trajectories of their lives. It gave them challenges that they would spend their entire lives trying to overcome. They would build, destroy and rebuild their lives over and over again, through the instability and difficulties, countless times until their end. But they both had in them so much love. and as much loss as I have experienced throughout my life, I have also experienced so much love and longing.

… and it is in this place, the space between loss and love that I want to keep the tension of longing alive because there is something so intangibly beautiful about desiring something so deeply. It is rooted in deep love.

and wanting.

and needing.

and desperately hoping.

and part of what keeps this intensity so powerful is its inherent unrequited nature. And although our love is deeply rooted in connection and tangible moments and memory, so much of the longing is also left for the half of my life without you in it, for the memories and moments we would and wish we could have continued to share together today.

Until we meet again, I will keep a space in my heart for this longing, this missing piece that can only be made whole with divine love and mercy, in the thought that one day we will be reunited.

I pray that God has mercy on your soul, that he amplifies your good deeds, impacts and memory, and forgives you for any shortcomings, anyone you have hurt along the way, and that he elevates your status amongst the most Beloved of his creation. Only God knows how much you overcame, I pray that you did not feel alone, that your heart knew how loved you were, what an impact you made on our lives and the ways that you will continue to live on through our children, in the lessons and gifts you gave us that we will continue to give them and teach them about in your honour. Forgive me for my anger, please forgive me for the things I said or did that hurt you and for the ways in which I wasn’t always able to appreciate you and elevate you in my life at the time, there was so much I didn't know, understand or appreciate. But I know now. and for your life and lessons I am eternally grateful for the generous love you gave my dreams and my spirit. I pray for myself too, that God can replace the sadness and difficulty of some of the moments we had, with only gratitude.

And in your memory, we can reflect again on the butterfly, a living symbol of beauty, transformation, trust, patience and growth.

The journey of the butterfly mirrors the soul's passing through earthly life, beginning as a caterpillar, struggling to navigate, learning through hardship and experience.

Trusting, moving along, evolving and at each stage carrying its own trials. Each moment shaping what is to come next.

The cocoon is not an ending but a sacred pause.

It represents struggle, surrender, and purification, those hidden seasons where faith is tested and the soul feels confined.

Yet it is within this darkness that true transformation takes place. Through trust, patience, and unwavering faith, the soul emerges renewed, elevated into a more beautiful state, drawing ever closer to our creator.

As you transition into the next life I imagine the metamorphosis of the caterpillar into the butterfly.

What once crawled learns to fly.

What once endured in silence rises in grace.

It is a reminder that suffering is not meaningless, it refines, it prepares, it heals and elevates.

I will fight to keep alive the reminder of the butterfly's delicate nature, embodying a divine gentleness like you had, soft, kind yet powerful, fragile yet purposeful. The journey from earth to sky, from the material to the spiritual, from the confines of worldly life to divine union.

We delight in the beauty of the butterfly yet rarely pause to honor what it endured to become so, and so today I honour all parts of your journey and thank you for the impact your life had on us, the lessons you left with us and the moments we shared.

And so, when pain and longing rise within me, I return to the image of the butterfly. It reminds me that nothing unfolds without divine timing. That every season, even the hardest, is preparing us for a greater becoming.

I will say goodbye to the possibility of ever meeting you again in this life, and I will look forward to meeting you for eternity on the other side of this, in peace, suspended in time, in comfort, in joy and in divine security. we will have our chats then.

I look forward to the pleasure of meeting you again

in another time, in another place.

Fly free and high.

Love always + forever, Alisha

Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return (Quran 2:156)