What it means when butterflies keep showing up

It started with one butterfly. Then another. And then, over time, they became something I could no longer ignore.

I didn’t go looking for signs.

The first time I remember noticing them was long after my brother passed away.

By then, I had already been through months in the hospital, followed by a long and difficult recovery in rehab. I wasn’t walking yet — I had left with a wheelchair, then slowly began using a walker, and eventually a cane.

It took time before I could walk on my own again.

And it was only later — when I finally did — that I began to notice them.

I was walking, still trying to understand how life could continue when something so foundational had been taken from it.

And then, almost gently, there it was — a white butterfly crossing my path.

Not moths. Butterflies. Light, deliberate, almost… intentional.

At first, I didn’t let myself read into it. Grief has a way of narrowing everything — what you see, what you feel, what you’re willing to believe. But they kept appearing. Quietly. Consistently. Often when I needed something I couldn’t quite name.

Over time, I began to understand — this wasn’t random.

And not just in the big moments.

They would meet me in the in-between spaces too — on my walks, on my way to shul, in the simple rhythm of everyday life. Moments that might have otherwise passed unnoticed suddenly felt… accompanied.

And not just in one place.

Anywhere in the world I was, they would appear. In Israel. In Morocco. In France. In Spain. In New York. In Montréal. Different landscapes, different chapters —........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)