If you own at least one Insane Clown Posse CD, you will have probably noticed the strange liner note mentioning how the CD is "dedicated to the Butterfly." If you're a *true* ICP fan (and not, like, one of those people who bought "The Great Milenko" just because all the other kids at school had it), you most likely know what the meaning of this ever-present dedication is; but for those that don't...
It stems from a traumatic event in Violent J's childhood. One day, J and his brother spotted the most beautiful butterfly they had ever seen. They placed it in a jar, intending to set it free the next day after spending the night admiring its beauty. However, when they awoke the next morning, the butterfly was dead - an image that has haunted J ever since. So, it became a tradition to dedicate each of ICP's releases to 'the Butterfly' - J's way of apologizing to the creature he feels he unfairly robbed of life.
I've come to believe that everyone has their own Butterfly... in other words, I believe that inside every single person lies the scarring memory of a small, otherwise insignificant event that managed to leave a lasting negative impression.
I definitely know mine; several years ago, we had a number of contractors replace the siding on our house. One of them discovered a nest of baby bunnies in our front yard that we hadn't noticed. For whatever reason, the bunnies started dying while the contractors were there; before it was too late, my mother decided to try and rescue the last remaining baby. It was very small, enough to fit in the palm of your hand. We made a little makeshift home for it (I think it was a basket, but I can't remember for sure), and named it Momo. The basket was sitting on top of our stereo, which was a horrible idea on someone's part, because Momo jumped out at one point, falling about four feet.
Over the next day, we realized that he must've been gravely injured from the fall; he was no longer very active, and was becoming increasingly cold to the touch. My mother and I rushed to the pet store to buy a sort of small baby bottle so that she could feed him in an effort to nurse him back to health. After she tried for quite some time, she and my dad decided to let him rest while they went grocery shopping. I went with them, because I couldn't bear to be home alone with the bunny if it died. It did, of course, during the time we were at the store.
For whatever reason, this struck a horrendous chord inside me... for someone who usually took the deaths of our pets fairly well, I was extremely upset. The night it happened, I couldn't get to sleep, because I cried for ages, to the point where my mom asked me what the big deal was. To this day, I have no answer for that question. I suppose I just took a lot of pity on this small, defenseless animal, especially after knowing that the rest of his family had died over the last couple days.
So, I guess that Momo was my Butterfly. What most people would look at as a small, insignificant event had a large emotional impact on me that I still can't explain. Just as Violent J hopes that he'll someday be able to face the Butterfly once more in the afterlife, perhaps deep inside of me is the hope that someday in the afterlife, I will see Momo, grown and healthy; and I will be able to apologize for not preventing the abrupt, avoidable end to his short life.
Is anyone else willing to share the story of their own Butterfly?
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2 comments:
Mine was a cat. My wife found some kids tormenting a cat in the park, and she brought her home. We put her in the bathroom because we had 3 cats and we didn't want one to make the other sick. She was a very sweet girl, and when I went into the bathroom to spend time with her, she climbed onto my back and rested there, so I named her Hilary. I became attached instantly.
We brought her to the vet the next day, who told us she had feline leukemia and should be put to sleep, so as not to infect our other cats. We never had to put an animal to sleep before, and when the vet asked if we wanted to stay with her while it happened, we said we couldn't. That is one of my greatest regrets in my life. When we came home from the vet, I went into the bathroom and cried loudly for a good 10 minutes. This was 7 years ago, and I still think about her and wish that I stayed with her so she wouldn't pass alone.
It's odd that you weren't allowed to stay with her... our vet allows you to stay with the pet, which to be honest, isn't the best thing to experience from what I've heard. (My parents have lost MANY pets that way.)
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