Missing Pieces: Finishing the Puzzle—A Parable of Change, Letting Go, and the Promise of What’s Next

JPJ didn’t like how he felt.

Usually, he was vibrant and cheerful as he moved about on his six sturdy legs while munching on milkweed. JPJ loved milkweed. It was a source of both nourishment and pleasure, but today he didn’t feel like eating. He didn’t feel like talking. He didn’t even feel like playing. Usually, the best part of his life was being with his caterpillar family and friends, but today he just wanted to be alone.

He crawled down the milkweed stem and looked for a private place. He found one in a tall patch of grass where a spindly oleander shrub was partially hidden. He made his way up it and began to think.

A breeze fluttered over the meadow, rustling the trees’ leaves. A bee buzzed by, searching for nectar and pollen. A determined dragonfly skimmed the pond, sunlight radiating off its wings. Life spun around him. but JPJ felt oddly apart from it. It was as if he were seeing a play he’d once starred in, only this time from the shadows of the audience.

He knew he should be grateful. He was born in a place where milkweed was plentiful. He enjoyed the warm sun on his back. There were caterpillars he loved, and who returned his love.

In many ways, JPJ was happy and fulfilled. But not entirely. He had lived his life on only a tiny fraction of the earth, and for some reason, this bothered him.

Sometimes, after a satisfying meal, he’d roll onto his back, stare at the clouds, and dream of more. He wanted to experience more. Contribute more. Be more.

Lying there, JPJ was mesmerized by the creatures of the sky. They’d soar above him, then disappear behind mountains or find shelter in towering trees. Families of crows darted about. Hummingbirds flitted in and out of his line of sight. A turkey vulture effortlessly circled.

For a moment, he’d be envious. Then he remembered what his wise father had told him one evening while dusk settled over the milkweed patch:

“Don’t feel bad about the things you can’t do. Feel good about what you can do. Make a list of those things. I bet it will be a long one.

“I’ll help you start. You’re a faithful friend and a devoted son. You’re a deep thinker. You’re kind. You work hard. You put others first … I could go on and on!”

JPJ remembered answering, “But Dad, don’t you ever wish for more? To be more? To do more?”

“Who doesn’t? It’s good to strive. But contentment doesn’t come from longing. It comes from appreciating.”

At the time, JPJ had nodded, then he tried to heed his father’s words. He knew he was right. Most caterpillars didn’t have a life as lucky as his. So many others’ lives were unfairly hard. What had he done to earn his good fortune? Had he earned it?

Still, JPJ had known suffering. His brother died before he could say goodbye. Friends he cared about deeply left his life without explaining why. When predators had a successful hunt, his heart hurt for their prey. When they weren’t, he felt bad for the hungry hunters.

When other creatures hurt, JPJ felt their pain—pain he had no power to heal. In the past, he’d turn away from the worst of the world. He’d try to focus on what he had and what he could control.

Sometimes it worked, but not today. Even his father’s words of wisdom didn’t assuage his gloom. He felt unfulfilled and, for the first time, hopeless. Life had exhausted him. He was … over it.

Just as he was about to succumb to despair, a mysterious burst of energy overtook him. He had an odd urge to hang upside down from one of the oleander branches. Before he could reason why, he was!

Inexplicably, uncontrollably, he wiggled and writhed until he managed to extract himself from his constrictive skin. He found himself encased and protected inside a magical, jade-colored cocoon.

After all that effort, JPJ was spent. Yet he felt warm, comfortable, and secure. He was about to close his eyes and surrender to an overwhelming impulse to rest when a series of conflicting thoughts cluttered his mind.

There’s beauty everywhere. If I close my eyes, I’ll miss it.

But so much of life is sad. I can’t take it anymore.

I want to be here for my family. They need me.

But I feel others’ pain too much.

I’ll miss my friends and the good times we share.

But … I’ll … I…

And then he did close his eyes, submitting to whatever would come.

After a lifetime of short naps, JPJ fell into a deep sleep. Time stopped, and the outside world faded away. Inside, he felt a profound, strange change.

Despite being virtually lifeless for eleven days, when JPJ awoke he wasn’t groggy. He was refreshed and invigorated. His mind was clear.

Feeling light, he emerged from his chrysalis and unfolded his wings.

Wings?

Yes, somehow JPJ had sprouted two magnificent orange and black wings. The orange was bright and beautiful. The black was bold and sleek. At first, he could only stare at them. Then, curiosity overcame him.

Cautiously, he wiggled his wings. Then he flapped them. When he rose off the oleander into the cloudless sky, JPJ was startled but exhilarated. This is what flying feels like!

For a moment, he was uneasy, but confidence quickly came. He found his groove. He banked left so he could ride the wind. He wasn’t sure exactly where to go. He just felt compelled to fly.

On the milkweed below, he spotted some of his favorite caterpillars. He hovered above them.

Munching away, only looking down, they didn’t see him.

But he saw them, and a pang of regret and sorrow overtook him.

He thought about how, in the blink of an eye, time passed. Wasn’t it only a moment ago he had hatched from a small yellow egg? In just two weeks he matured into a striped caterpillar, and now he had morphed into a miraculous monarch.

Had he taken the time to savor each stage? It was too late to go back. And now, he’d left behind the caterpillars he loved. He was no longer part of their world.

Then two revelations spun his regret and sorrow into hope and happiness. First, he remembered his father’s voice and appreciated what he now was and now had. It was what he had always dreamed of!

Second, he realized that his family and friends would evolve as he had. Soon, they would join him in the sky. The thought deeply comforted him. He smiled and flew a little higher.

The view from above was spectacular. The plants and trees—there were so many shades of green! The water in the lakes and rivers was enchanting. For the first time, he saw the ocean. It was … infinite.

JPJ’s fears, stresses, and anxieties vanished. He felt like he was being pulled toward a better place when an astonished voice called from below. “JPJ! Is that you? You’re beautiful!” It was Kyrra, still a caterpillar, staring up with wide eyes.

JPJ dropped down so he could be near her. “How did you know it was me?” he wondered. “I’ve changed so much.”

Lying on their backs alongside Kyrra were Kylene, Coale, Dwyn, and Kane—all still caterpillars.

“I don’t know,” Kyrra said. “I just did. Where are you going? I don’t want you to leave.”

“Neither do I,” Kylene concurred.

“Stay!” Coale, Dwyn, and Kane called out.

“Why did you leave us?” Kyrra cried. “We needed you! You should have waited for us. Or taken us with you!”

“I couldn’t wait, and I couldn’t take you with me. It was my time to go, not yours.”

“But we want to be with you.”

“You will,” JPJ answered, landing briefly on a low leaf. “You’ll be with me up here. I promise. You were always strong, Kyrra. Now you must be strong for others.”

“I’ll try.”

Kylene asked, “Is the change scary?”

JPJ remembered what it was like. “Yes. At first. But I think all change is scary. But it was good, too. Once you get past the scary part, it will be good for you, too, Sweetie Angel.”

Kylene was hopeful. “Promise?”

“Promise,” JPJ said.

Dwyn, fascinated by what she was seeing, was intrigued. “JPJ, I like your colors. Um … I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“You turned into a pretty butterfly, but I’d rather be a tiger. They’re orange and black, too. Can I turn into one?”

JPJ laughed. “I’m sorry, but no, Fierce Girl. You can’t become a tiger. You’re going to be a monarch like me. We can get better. But we can’t change who we are—and we can’t change our destiny.”

“I guess it’s okay. I’ll be a butterfly. I mean, tigers can’t fly.”

“Do your wings feel heavy?” Coale wondered.

“Not heavy at all, Sweet Girl. They feel like they belong—like they’ve always been waiting for me. And there are wings waiting for you.”

Coale, looking hopeful, smiled.

“But not yet. Your life here is like an unfinished puzzle. Each of your lives is.

“You need to stay and seek your missing pieces. Complete as much of your puzzle as you can.

“And while you’re here, love each other. Help each other. There’s so much need! Do what you can to make your world better before you join me in mine.”

“We’ll try,” Kyrra said.

Again, JPJ felt a tug—not an obligation, but a combination of longing and calling. The excruciating goodbye had to be said. He had to go. He wasn’t sure where, but he was excited to find out.

“It hurts me badly to leave,” he said. “I’m not sure I’m ready for what’s next, or even what the next right thing is. But it feels like those I knew and trusted are calling to me, inviting me to join them. It’s scary—and I know this sounds strange—it’s a good kind of scary.

“And, when the time is right, we’ll be together again. I just know it.”

JPJ flew into the sunset.

The story of JPJ came to me during the days following my father’s unexpected passing. Attempting to provide comfort for our family and friends, I told the JPJ story at Dad’s funeral. Twenty-seven years later, Mom died, and I retold the story at her funeral. My big brother was killed in a freak accident just a few months prior to Mom’s death.

It is my great hope that J (my father, John), P (my mother, Patricia) and J (my brother, JT) are together in a less painful place, secure in the knowledge that they will be reunited with those they love.