"Dearest,

We don’t think very much about the symbols in every facet of our lives, but these last few years of quiet introspection have given me nothing but a new appreciation for these little signs given to us from something greater than ourselves of the complexity of life.

Take the humble moth. Most don’t share the bright colors of their fairer counterparts, nor the graceful movement amongst the blooms of spring. Butterflies in themselves signify the growth and replenishment of life, the creating of new memories and a sign of better times to come.

The moth is something so much more. The moth is the idea of lost memories regained— constantly found chasing lights after fleeing old wardrobes and old, dusty, and forgotten keepsakes in our homes, moths are the memories of old times, good and bad. Moths are the idea that nothing is ever forgotten, just waiting to be found so that you can finally see the brighter moments around you.

I am sending little Cleveland with this letter. He’s fairly small for a golem of his kind and very afraid of many household pets- especially cats. He doesn’t eat much and is very polite, kind, and courteous, being the best companion this old man could ever have asked for. He can find anything you have lost or need to find and can help you remember nearly anything as fast as can be, you need only ask. The only thing he cannot help anyone do is find where I will be going, as that’s a journey we will all take alone.

Much like the moth he resembles, let Cleveland remind you of me. Let him remind you of all the good times, all the bad, all of the rainstorms and summer days— and help you find more of those brighter times.

I’m only sorry that I could not say goodbye to you myself.

I love you, my honeybee.”