We moved back to my Grandpa and Grandma's farm in Eastern Georgia from Atlanta when I was six. Grandpa Forest had died of Lung Cancer earlier and Grandma Elaine was having a really hard time managing by herself. I didn't know it at the time, but Dad had tried to get Grandma to sell the farm and move in with us. My parents couldn't convince her to come so Dad gave up his job as a Vice President of Sales at Carver Auto Parts so we could Grandma's house.
For me it was the best adventure of my young life. I was out of school for almost the first four months and Mom, Dad and Grandma spent time with me showing me the farm and teaching me a thousand things about flowers and cotton and how to tell the weather from the clouds. I know now that Grandma was still pretty sad but it was not something that I understood back then.
One October morning after breakfast Grandma and I went out to feed Scrump. I have no idea how Scrump got his name, but he had been Grandpa's dog since before I was born. He was a medium sized mutt; brown all over and thin in his old age with a ragged ear on his left side. He was old enough that he hardly moved from the side of the barn most of the time. As we walked over to give him his food I noticed that there were literally hundreds of small blue butterflies flying around Scrump and his tail was wagging slowly as he watched them taking off and landing on the Purple Coneflowers along the edge of the field.
Grandma bent down and pointed over at the butterflies darting above Scrump's head. "You see all those butterflies their. Scrump used to love to chase the butterflies. Your Granddad would take him out walking and Scrump would just go wild chasing butterflies whenever he found some. I bet Forest sent down all those butterflies from heaven just to make Scrump happy."
I played for a while with Scrump, running in the tall grass and trying to herd the butterflies towards Scrump, and then Grandma picked a few of the Coneflowers and we went back to the house.
Scrump died in his sleep about a week later and it tore me apart. I think Grandma was even more deeply affected, but it's hard to remember things like that clearly when it happened at such a young age. I do remember Dad talking to me about how everything dies and how Scrump was old and really couldn't move so it was best this way. He dug a hole and we buried Scrump out by the barn where we had played with the butterflies that day. Grandma and I both picked a Coneflower and laid them down on the earth after Dad had filled the hole back in.
Pretty soon school started to keep me busy and I made friends with the four Emmet kids (who came over a lot) and time passed as it always does. Fall became Winter and Winter blew itself out and it was Spring again.
One Saturday it rained all morning and I was driving everyone in the house mad, so as soon as the rain let up Grandma Elaine took me outside to get some eggs from the hens. On the way she stopped and pointed over near the barn where we had buried Scrump the previous fall. Growing up out of the ground was the biggest bunch of Purple Coneflowers I had ever seen and rising up and settling back down on them were a huge swarm of blue butterflies.
"Look," said Grandma Elaine pointing at the flowers "I think this time Grandpa and Scrump have sent down those butterflies just for you." It made me so happy that we forgot all about collecting the eggs and I spent the early afternoon chasing butterflies while Grandma Elaine watched and smiled.
Though there was no particular medical cause, Grandma passed away unexpectedly in the night a few months later. We had the funeral at the old church by Hadley Lake and Grandma Elaine was buried next to Grandpa. The funeral was really just a blur of itchy suits and people I didn't know crying a lot and I didn't understand it, but the next day Dad asked if I wanted to go out just the two of us and say goodbye to Grandma. I went and picked a Purple Coneflower from by the barn and Dad and I drove over and I laid it on her grave.
I was sad and confused, but the thing that helped the most was remembering Scrump and the butterflies that Grandpa had sent down from heaven for him. Even as an adult I can't remember Grandma without thinking about butterflies and Grandma Elaine's Purple Coneflower.
