Every family has its own folklore and superstitions. In our big Italian Catholic family, it’s said that the souls of the dead come back to visit us in the form of a moth. Crazy, huh? “That could be Aunt Ray!” Mom would say when one flew inside, and my younger brother, Charles, and I would laugh.
We were 12 years apart, but close. He always wore black and white. I teased him that they were the only colors he knew how to match. At 23, Charles passed away suddenly in his sleep. Part of my world died too. I yearned for a sign that Charles was at peace. I finally understood my family’s strange belief.
Three days after Charles died, Dad called. “Get over here!” he said, his voice urgent. I drove to my parents’ house and found my family crowded by the front door. “Look!” my sister Natalie whispered.