The following is a former winner of the Amazing but Incredibly True Story Contest.
Copyright Sue Junkins, 1996
On May 14, 1983, my 19 month old son, Sean Ryan, died unexpectedly. Months after Seans funeral I went to my parents' house. Two of my brothers were there and my mom and dad. My oldest brother Dave started to tell us about a strange thing that had happened to him while visiting Sean's grave. He said that when he got out of his car he left the stereo on. He always listened to cassette tapes of rock and roll and when there wasn't a r&r tape in, his stereo was tuned to Fm 99 ( a local rock station). In the middle of a song the tape popped out of the stereo and scottish bag pipe music started to play. This really freaked Dave out and he felt that it was Sean's way of saying "Hey Uncle Dave... I'M OKAY !!"
After Dave finished my mom said that the night Sean died, she had a dream of him being held by her mother. She saw him floating into my grandmother's arms. Dad said that while he was on the ship he worked on, before he got the news from the American Red Cross that Sean had died (his ship was over near Iceland), he was nudged on the hand by a hammer. The sea was calm, the hammer was heavy and there was no way the ship's movement could have moved the hammer to hit him on the hand the way that it did.
As for me, I had never paid any particular attention to yellow butterflies. After Sean's funeral a little yellow butterfly flew to the screen door and just hung on to the screen and even thoough there were alot of people in the room it just stayed there. Ever since that day, whenever I feel sad or bummed, a yellow butterfly appears. It can be the dead of winter or the hottest summer day. It just flies by me and that smell...I smell that smell and it makes everything great again.
I have come to understand. I miss Sean and it hurt so much to say good-bye. Sean is still with me. I feel he watches every move that I make. He made me get my life together and he made choose the right directions. The little guy was amazing and even though I now have four other children there will never be another Sean.
To contact the author, write to Sue Dunlap Junkins
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