Today is my dad’s birthday. It’s been 25 years since he crossed over, which is also how long I’ve been married. My dad passed away three months before my wedding. Many mysterious events took place during his passing, as well as my wedding day, which I wrote about in my book, Vade Mecum.

Almost every year on his birthday, I have an experience that reminds me of him. On a few occasions, it’s been in the form of a white butterfly that appears in unusual ways. I have had other events involving other types of butterflies (e.g., numerous monarch butterfly synchronicities related to an aunt’s passing; or blue butterflies as a specific sign I’ve asked for from my guides when needed), but when it comes to my dad, it’s always a small white butterfly.

This afternoon, I decided to take my laptop to the backyard so that I could work outside with my daughter and her rabbit, Smudge, who needed outdoor time in the fresh air. It has been a while since I’ve spent time writing in the garden — we’ve had so many cooler, windy days this Summer. I gathered a few things in a tote bag and grabbed a new pen from a box of favorite pens (my daughter had absconded with mine the previous day). It took a few attempts to pry off the rubber seal at the tip of the pen before I could stash it in my bag.

I had been planning to write about my dad today but decided I would read a book first. However, the urge to write grew stronger so I reached into my bag to pull out my notebook and pen. For no apparent reason, I suddenly found myself trying to remember my dad’s favorite color. I couldn’t recall any specific memories but the color blue came to mind. As soon as I started writing, I was surprised to discover that the new pen I had grabbed was blue. I don’t particularly like blue pens and prefer to write in black ink. The box of pens I had was filled with black ink pens. I didn’t notice that this pen was blue while I was prying off its seal, though I now realized this was clearly visible from its exterior.

As soon as I noticed the blue ink I thought to myself, “Oh, I guess his favorite color IS blue.” My family and I had been texting each other all day so I decided to see if anyone else remembered what Dad’s favorite color was. They also remembered it as blue, before I told them my story about the pen.

I haven’t seen any white butterflies today, even though I’ve been sitting in my garden for the last three hours, but perhaps this was his little wave of hello this year. Happy birthday, Daddy!

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