People often ask me about my butterfly necklace.
“You wear it all the time,” they say. “What does it represent?”
Some guess that because I’m an executive and team coach, the butterfly must represent change, transformation, and new possibilities.
My response: “Well, yes… AND there’s more to it.” When I’m with them, I ask if they have a few minutes to hear the full story. If you have just a few moments now, I invite you to read on.
It’s 2005. I get a call from my mom. “Lor, it’s Poppy” (the name my oldest brother, at age two, gave our grandfather).
You know that myth about cats having nine lives? We'd joke that Poppy had at least that many.
By that point, at age 95, he’d survived The Great Depression, colon cancer, bypass surgery, the death of his wife of 60+ years, and now this issue about which mom was calling: kidney cancer.
Poppy needed surgery to remove a kidney. He might not survive.
He lived simply and with curiosity. In his bathroom, he kept a list of all the states and their capitals, to test his memory. He kept a notebook of people’s names so that he’d be sharp at the next party or Rosh Hashanah dinner. He aced the daily crossword puzzles. He knew all the baseball stats. And, despite his age, he wanted to know about the latest technologies. He insisted that we teach him how to set up a Facebook account.
He ate chocolate every day and, to my dismay (at the time), gave it to my kids for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when they visited—which was often when they were under five.
Poppy had a zest for life that may be surpassed only by my dad’s, whose birthday happens to be on the same day as his.
He was witty, made people laugh, and didn’t take life too seriously.
Even when he didn’t have much energy, he’d maintain a focus on his tomato garden, working just 5 minutes at a time, resting, then working five minutes again, until the garden was cared for. Who cared if it took all day?
People all over town called him Poppy; it described him well. “Milton” was way too formal and old-fashioned.
When my mom called, she said the doctors had told her that the family should come to the hospital in Philadelphia to say our farewells before the surgery. Perhaps he would not make it to his 10th life.
Cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, mom and dad, all gathered in the waiting room with lots of food—because somehow, we thought that would make us feel better—and then went to his room to say our farewells.
A few hours later, the doctor came in and told us that we could go see him.
He'd made it.
Immediately, and with mouths still full of the fancy chocolates and Philly soft pretzels we’d been eating, we gathered around him.
There he was, lying in bed. Barely able to speak. He opened his eyes, looked at each of us, and, in tears, with his weak but powerful voice, said that he was here because of us.
He’d made it through this impossible surgery because of his family.
We could feel the love in the room.
Here he was, on his 10th life, with us. Reminding us of how lucky we were.
He also said (and mind you, he was not a spiritual guy) that he dreamt that grandmom came to him in the form of—now here it is—a butterfly, and told him, “I’m not ready for you.”
Years later, at 99.75 (yes, he gets credit for every month), Poppy did pass. Which was a bummer, because that 100th birthday party would’ve been a blast!
When I was helping mom clean out his apartment, I came across this picture of him dancing at my cousin’s wedding, at age 97. It was hard for him to stand, let alone dance, but there I was holding his hand so that he could take a few steps to celebrate.
One step at a time, like he tended to his tomato plants.
In this picture, you can see Poppy’s zest for life—to just get out there and dance, even if it’s just a few steps. There’s my dad looking at him with admiration. There’s me so honored to be the granddaughter holding his hand.
And, on the frame of this picture, my Poppy had placed a big purple butterfly clip.
So, to me, butterflies represent transformation, and they represent a zest for life—both themes that inspire my work as a leader and a coach.
My mom always talks about providing the next generation with both roots and wings. The butterfly necklace represents that message for me, too.
I appreciate when people ask about my butterfly necklace and take the time to hear Poppy’s story. I was moved to share this story on film as part of my work on The Inner Frontier. I also appreciate hearing other people’s “butterfly stories”—and if you have a few moments to share, I’d love to hear yours.
What is the story that connects you to those you love and gives you both roots and wings? How does this shape your sense of yourself as a leader, and how you show up in your daily life and work?
-Lori