This post is also available in Spanish. Read it here
We often imagine departure as an abrupt severance, a door slamming shut in a single fraction of a second. The human mind, bound to the confines of time and physical form, tends to perceive passing as a rigid border between presence and absence.
Yet the soul moves with no such haste.
I came to understand this intimately with Matías. During those days when his physical body was still resting in this realm, his eyes open and gazing toward an unseen horizon, I sensed with absolute clarity that he was no longer entirely there. His presence ebbed and flowed; he would gently brush against the material world, linger in my embrace, and then drift upward into a broader dimension, much like testing the warmth of sacred waters before stepping fully in. The soul does not take off in a single jolt: it rehearses its flight, grows accustomed to weightlessness, and unties every earthly anchor with infinite tenderness.
This is precisely what nature illustrates through metamorphosis, even if we rarely pause long enough to observe it without haste.
Throughout this entire week, messages have arrived woven together like an unbroken dance. It began quietly at home, in my neighbor Icela’s rue plant, where tiny caterpillars reminded us that the outward loss of a familiar form is simply the dawn of a life with wings. Yet the universe had an even grander stage prepared to confirm this truth.
Thousands of miles from New York, my friend María was walking along a path in New Mexico when she encountered a breathtaking sight: an imposing willow whose branches seemed to brush the earth, swaying in the wind with not just leaves, but hundreds of monarch butterflies newly emerged from their chrysalises.
At first, they rested together, clinging to the bark in silent, dense clusters. María stopped to watch them and noticed how they gently opened their trembling wings, lifted off by mere inches, drifted in short circles, and carefully settled back down onto the branch. María instantly connected this with the previous post about the caterpillars on Icela’s rue, and called me to share that beautiful moment.
“Look at them, Nubia... they take flight and immediately hold back on. They don’t leave all at once. They are experimenting, testing lightness, and learning the journey before letting go completely.”
Those words resonated straight through my heart. They were an exact mirror of what I had lived beside my son. That tree was the sheltering lap where souls rest while their wings gather strength; that gentle rhythm between perching and floating is the sacred passage where energy bids farewell to the cocoon without fear, knowing its true destination is the open sky.
And as if to prove that creation listens and responds, an extraordinary dialogue unfolded. María waited patiently for a long time, hoping to see them lift into the air together. Seeing them remain still and clustered tight, she finally conceded and said aloud: “Well, you don’t want to fly today, so I’m heading out.” No sooner had she turned away than the entire canopy awakened in a golden flutter. As though answering her call, they rose and danced through the breeze, prompting her to turn back immediately and capture that sacred moment on video. Signs are never silent: they answer the honest intention of an open heart.
The synchronicity did not end there. Today, as I sit down to write these very lines, María returned to visit that same corner in New Mexico. The scene had completely transformed: they were no longer lined up, clinging to the trunk as they were yesterday. Today, they no longer needed the branch. The sky above was alive with them, scattered in open, luminous flight, fully embracing the boundless air.
Yesterday they were practicing; today they are pure flight.
A physical departure is never a barren void. It follows this exact path: a cherished soul that first practices its flight around us, brushing against our days with subtle signs while growing familiar with the infinite, until it finally spreads its eternal wings in a freedom no pain can ever reach.
Matías remains here—no longer tethered to the branch of the physical body, but woven into the breath of every breeze that reminds us that love never falls: it simply learns to fly.
Just when I thought this piece was complete, my phone rang. It was Icela on a video call, her face radiant with pure awe and overflowing emotion:
“Nubia, she emerged! The butterfly was just born!”.
Looking at the screen took my breath away. It happened today, on a Wednesday—the day Matías was born and also the day he departed, the very day I decided to share these writings—. And looking closely at the gentle visitor resting on her hand, I saw our favorite colors gracing its wings: Matías’s blue and my yellow and orange, dancing together on a tapestry of pure black velvet.
With tears of gratitude in my eyes, I told her: “Yes, Icela... open the window and let her fly”.
And she did. She opened the frame, and together we watched her surrender gracefully to the open New York sky.
The circle didn’t just close; it was wholly illuminated before our very eyes. There was no absence, no empty leaf, and no rush. There was a sacred Wednesday, our colors entwined on living wings, and the timeless certainty that love never ends... it simply waits for the perfect moment to take flight.
Thank you, my beloved Matías 💙.
❤️💙❤️