Butterfly Messengers: True Stories of Comfort and Hope

By Lloyd Hollett

“We lost our only child, Matthew, on March 28, 2005. On that day our world around us collapsed, and everything as we knew it came to an abrupt halt. As days turned into weeks, I prayed every day and night for some type of sign from heaven above to let me know that Matthew was okay.
“On July 14, 2005, what would have been Matthew’s sixteenth birthday, I laid flowers and placed balloons at his resting place, and I again pleaded for a sign, a message from Matthew. ‘Please, Matthew,’ I said aloud, ‘send me just a little something—I’d like to see a butterfly. ‘Within seconds of these words being said, the most beautiful butterfly I had ever seen landed upon Matthew’s monument . . .”
Desma Churchill
Butterfly Messengers is a collection of personal stories from people who have had special encounters with butterflies, stories that involve a beautiful butterfly and the passing of a loved one. After hearing so many people describe their encounters with “spiritual” butterflies, Lloyd Hollett, owner of the world-renowned Newfoundland Insectarium, decided to put the stories together in a compilation. This book is the result of his efforts. It is a collection of stories from people throughout Canada and the United States, with the majority coming from Newfoundland and Labrador.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flanker Press
• Release date: Jun 28, 2010
• ISBN: 9781926881263

Lloyd Hollett

Lloyd Hollett was born in Harbour Buffett, Placentia Bay, and at the age of two moved to the community of Little Harbour East. He attended high school in the nearby town of Arnold’s Cove. After graduating from college with a diploma in Forest Resources Technology in 1977, he started working in St. John’s with the provincial Department of Forestry as a protection technician. In 1984 when the provincial forestry department was relocated to Corner Brook, he moved with his family to Pasadena in western Newfoundland. In 1998 Lloyd co-founded the Newfoundland Insectarium, where he is the owner and director. In addition to operating the Insectarium, he travels extensively throughout Eastern Canada giving school presentations. More recently, his love of Irish and folk music has prompted him to establish Front Row Promotions, organizing performances across Newfoundland for international recording artists. He is married to the former Sandy Frampton and they have three children, Matthew, Kelly, and Adam.

Book preview

The Symbolism of the Butterfly

The miracle of a butterfly’s transformation from earthbound caterpillar to a beautiful butterfly is certainly symbolic to our religious view of death and our rebirth in spiritual form. For hundreds of years, butterflies have been viewed as a symbol of the human soul by many cultures around the world. The ancient Greeks believed that a new soul was born each time a butterfly emerged from its chrysalis. Early Europeans believed that the human soul took the form of a butterfly. Native American Indian legends told that butterflies would carry the wishes of the Great Spirit into Heaven, there to be granted. The Mayan Indians of Central America looked upon butterflies as the spirits of dead warriors, in disguise and descending from Heaven. The Aztecs of South America believed that spirits, in the form of beautiful butterflies, would visit their relatives to assure them that they were happy and well in their new spiritual world. This belief is very close to our own view of Butterfly Messengers.

For many people, a butterfly is emblematic of transformation, beauty, and peace. What better symbol to be used by someone who has passed over, than to send a Butterfly Messenger to grieving relatives?

I have heard many stories from those who have lost a loved one, describing their agony over the need to know that their child, parent, or friend is at peace and still around in spiritual form. They often ask for some kind of sign to let them know that there is life after death. They ask that a pencil, or some other object, be moved or manipulated in some way. It very rarely happens. But when they ask to see a butterfly as a sign, they often get rewarded in unexpected and sometimes miraculous ways.

I do not believe that the butterfly is the soul of a loved one. I believe that if we have the ability to move things after we have departed this world, in order to communicate with grieving relatives and friends, one of the easiest things to manipulate would be a butterfly. They float around effortlessly and seem to be almost weightless. Because of this, and their association with rebirth, I truly feel that they are often used by our loved ones to send us a message. The message is that, although they are no longer with us physically, they are still part of our lives.

These butterflies give us some reassurance that those who have passed on before us are still close by and watching over us. They offer help to reinforce our memories and sense of well-being. Sometimes, if we open our minds and senses, we realize that they are truly Butterfly Messengers.

My Story

LLOYD HOLLETT

When the telephone rang that April morning, I wasn’t expecting to hear my sister on the other end of the line. I have some bad news, she said. Mom passed away this morning. Although the news was difficult to hear, it was not unexpected. Mom had been suffering the ravages of Alzheimer’s disease for a number of years and had been in poor health for quite some time. The shock came from the fact that her death came so soon after our father had passed away, which was only three weeks earlier. I was soon on my way to Fort McMurray, Alberta, to say goodbye once again.

Mom and Dad were from the small community of Little Harbour East in Placentia Bay, Newfoundland. They moved there from the town of Harbour Buffett on Long Island in the early 1960s, before the resettlement program started. Dad was a fisherman and carpenter, and he moved from the islands so that he could work at the carpentry trade during times when the fishery was not so good. Throughout my entire childhood he alternated from carpentry work in St. John’s to fishing out of Little Harbour. As a young woman, Mom worked for the merchants of Harbour Buffett but dedicated her time as a homemaker after the move to Little Harbour, raising three children and looking after her Herbert.

We started to suspect something was wrong when she wouldn’t talk on the phone when we called. If she answered she would always pass the phone to Dad right away. She was trying to disguise the fact that she couldn’t remember what we said to her. Dad was keenly aware of what was happening and had to adjust his life to enhance hers. No more trips out in the boat for a few cod, as he couldn’t leave her alone for that long. He loved when we came for a visit so he and I could go fishing while my wife, Sandy, stayed with Mom.

Over the years, as Mom’s condition got progressively worse, it became more difficult for Dad to care for her. In his late seventies, Dad was starting to slow down himself. The option of going into a long-term care facility in Newfoundland was discussed but, because of Mom’s condition, they would have to go to different homes which were miles apart. Dad would not hear of being separated from his beloved Effie, so the decision was made for them to move to Fort McMurray, where they could live with my sister Helen. My Dad was now 80 and the move was very painful for him because he loved the salt water and would certainly miss living near the ocean. In addition, Dad’s only surviving sibling, his sister Viola, and her husband, Frank, were living in Little Harbour. Uncle Frank was my father’s best friend, and Dad knew he would probably not get to see either of them again.

After several years in Alberta, with Dad now in a wheelchair and Mom’s illness progressing, they both were at the stage where they needed professional care. Luckily, they were able to go to the same facility, located on the fourth floor of the Fort McMurray Hospital.

Although they would have to have separate rooms, Dad could spend as much time as he wanted with Mom. He would sit in his wheelchair and the staff would wheel Mom over beside him and he would spend hours just holding her hand. During her last year, she lost her ability to talk, but I am sure they were still communicating in their own way.

Once a year, Sandy and I would travel to Alberta to see them. It was difficult to see Mom’s condition deteriorating more and more each time we went, especially when she finally could no longer recognize us. We got word in March that Dad was very ill. My sister called to say that we should come right away, so we both flew out to be with