Chapter 7
by Lizzy
Five years younger than me, my little brother had just moved back home to Connecticut from Utah. Like so many of us who aren’t sure of our path in life, he had been searching for himself, taking time off after high school to find his passion and purpose in life. He was a ski instructor who thrilled at the rush of accomplishment and freedom that skiing offered. But conquering the mountain slopes was more than a rite of passage for him. It was a metaphor that helped him build the confidence he needed to achieve his dream and reach the goals he set for himself.
He came home on top of the world, determined to go back to school and take his life in a new direction. He took two jobs, working in a restaurant and at a rock climbing gym, where he could still indulge his interests in adventure sports. He found a nice apartment he could afford in a multifamily house not far from his jobs, and life was good. He also wanted to go to college, and we had been working on his application together so he could be admitted to the upcoming semester, only a few months away.
That fall, in the wee hours of the morning, everything changed when his life, literally, went up in smoke.
There was a fire at his house that enflamed the entire structure. My brother had been asleep when the fire broke out but woke up to the unmistakable smell of smoke. In an attempt to make his escape from the house and the thickening, blinding smoke that clouded his way, he found himself in the bathroom instead of the door to the outside, which was actually right next to it. He must have been disoriented, but he had the presence of mind to cover his face with a wet washcloth while he waited for the firemen to rescue him.
That never happened. His body was found that afternoon, blocking the bathroom door from the other side.
When we learned about the fire and how my brother died, we were devastated. We couldn’t imagine the terror and pain he must have felt. It was horrifying to even think about, and our grief multiplied.
A few years after he had passed, I had the opportunity to see Roland at an event in Stamford, Connecticut. I went with a friend who thought I might get some closure and comfort through Roland. She was right.
Roland told me that my brother sought safety in a bathroom during a fire but the firemen didn’t know he was there. He was having a hard time breathing. Roland started to draw what he saw on a Purple Paper, outlining a house, a little room inside with no windows, flames coming off the roof, and stick figures of firemen all around. My brother wanted me to know that he was OK and at peace. “He couldn’t move. It all happened so quickly. He is in a good place now,” said Roland.
I got goose bumps as I listened to Roland tell my brother’s story. The firemen had confirmed all of this after the fire, telling us that my brother had been trying to save himself and was waiting for help.
Roland continued with more messages. He told me my grandmother had come to get my brother that night and they were together now. “Your brother’s with me,” she said through Roland. That meant the world to me. Growing up, my grandmother and I used to take early morning walks out in the woods. She believed in garden fairies and the like and we would spend many happy hours looking for them. I smiled through my tears, amazed at how Roland even took on my grandmother’s mannerisms as he was channeling her.
I thanked Roland for the gifts he gave me that night and stood up to go. As I was leaving, he called out to me and said, “Look for the butterflies.” They would be sent to me from my loved ones in heaven to let me know that I was where I was supposed to be.
At the time I had seen Roland, I had been struggling with relationship issues. I had recently broken off a long-term relationship and a new one with someone equally wrong for me. I was ready to give up. A few weeks later, I met Mark, the man whom I would marry.
I can’t help but think that my brother was behind our meeting, handpicking the person I was meant to share my life with. He and Mark had worked together at the restaurant and had become friendly before my brother died. It’s amazing how miracles work.
And those butterflies Roland told me to look for? They came to me during a walk with friends not long after I met Mark. My friends had gone on ahead of me as we hiked along a trail near a popular pond. Lagging behind, I was just passing the bushes they had gone by when a flock of monarch butterflies fluttered in front of me and took off for the sky. Right then and there, I knew in my heart that I was on the right path after all, and that Mark was the one for me. We got married two years later.
I know my brother is always looking out for me. I still find monarch butterflies in the most unexpected places at the times I need them most and even had one land right on my finger.
I also received another sign as I was considering sharing my Purple Paper story in this book. I wanted to participate but couldn’t find my Purple Paper anywhere. I worried that without it, my brother’s story would not be told.
Several years ago I was filmed with Roland and the Purple Paper he had given to me for a television show. The producer had used a still photograph of that interview for a Facebook page about the show and even though the project was long over, there it was, some eight years later, in view as the featured photo on that page. We found that Purple Paper photo days before this book was due to the publisher. Coincidence? I think not.
Though I do not have the Purple Paper in my hand, I found solace in learning my brother’s story still could be told. I went downstairs after receiving the phone call from the editor and noticed my brother’s photo had slipped off the table where I kept it. I went to pick it up just as the station I had been listening to was playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by the Hawaiian singer Israel “Iz” Kamakawiwo‘ole. That was the very same song we played at my brother’s funeral more than seventeen years before.
This story is for you, little brother. I am so happy you are still in my life.
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