My older brother passed away at the young age (for today’s world) of 71 years old. There was a large gap between our ages of seven years, so I was the little sister. I must have been blessed as my brother always gave me a great deal of attention. He spent time teaching me things like how to play Chess. We watched movies together, laughed at our relatives together; we enjoyed each other’s company. My brother had a keen memory of dates, numbers. He knew everyone’s birthday, every date tied to history, etc. He could tell you the name of any song, the artist and year it was released.
He was an “over-the-top” New York Yankees fan. Mickey Mantle was his hero. Therefore, as the years went on and we needed email address, etc. you can be assured my brother always had the number seven “7” somewhere in his email address. The number 7 was the number “the Mick” wore on his pin stripped Yankees’ uniform.
When my brother passed, I felt the loss so deeply, like a part of me was gone too. He had been ill for awhile so I took comfort knowing he no longer was not living the best quality of life.
One day I was out gardening, and from nowhere the most beautiful butterfly was flying around me and staying, so much so that when it flew to another part of the grass, I ran to get a photo of it. As I was chasing this butterfly to the end of my property, with child-like hope I started whispering, “Ricky is that you”? Always being a spiritual person, I wanted to feel that this butterfly was sent to tell me that my brother was happy. I snapped the photo, and the butterfly was gone.
Later that day, when I took a look at the photo I had taken, I was in awe of what I saw. I have a photo of it below. In the grass, do you not see the #7 with what’s called a stroke through it? (a stroke is used for a number 7 so it is not confused with the number 1.) See this for yourself; look to the right of my shadow and the butterfly that led me to this patch of grass.
This was a sign from heaven, my brother is happy and maybe even getting some baseball tips from “the Mick”. I believe in the impossible, and I know prayers are very powerful. My brother was a believer, but was very logical. He laughed at my many moments of expecting miracles. Was this his way of saying, “Sis, you were right”.? I’ll never know, but I will keep my sign from heaven close to my heart, because I know it was him.
