A Death in the Family

This past weekend we suffered a death in the family. Well, at least that’s what my daughter Margaret cried. She’s eleven and on Friday found a caterpillar in the road. “He was just on the edge, Dad, by the grass,” she explained. “I rescued him from getting run over and we’re going to keep him until he turns into a butterfly.”

This was after school and she wrangled two of her sisters, Leah and Gabrielle, into helping. They spent the rest of the day arranging a cage including sticks, leaves, and berries foraged from our yard. “We’re making him comfortable,” they said. “This way he’ll turn into a butterfly faster for us.” Then they turned back to feeding him, which to me looked more like force-feeding.

“How do you know that’s his mouth?” I asked.

“Because orange stuff was coming out the other end,” they answered in unison. Then Gabrielle my five year old added, “But I cut it off - because it was gross.”

Surprisingly, Saturday morning found the little green guy dead. Leah, who is eight, asked, “Do you know how to bring a caterpillar back to life?”

“Well, I don’t think pouring water on him will do the trick,” I offered.

“Oh, we know. We’re cleaning him for his funeral.” Leah answered while Gabrielle gently rolled him back and forth across the pavement; her chubby fingers assuring the caterpillar would never, ever return to the living.

I love that my little ones still imagine I’m capable of performing miracles. My oldest daughter Gretchen turned thirteen last week and has begun rolling her eyes at almost anything I do and say. “I didn’t know you could forward a text message, Gretchen,” and her eyes roll. “Since you have P.E. first period, can’t you just save time by wearing your gym clothes to school in the morning?” Eyes roll, arms flail, feet stomp.

Margaret decided to bury their caterpillar mid-day Saturday following tears and prayers for a return to the living. A hole was dug, flower petals picked, and a long rock was placed over the hole on which they gently rested the little guy. It was at this point I suggested they construct a funeral pyre. And then explained it.

Six eyes rolled and I could see my status as a miracle worker fading from their sight.