Butterflies are free to fly

“As much as you love Caylee, please… just don’t forget the others.”

- Richard Grund

Caylee loved butterflies, so it was no surprise that at the end of the memorial held on June 16 at Jay Blanchard Park, a basket holding butterflies was released to the skies along with balloons – with each balloon honoring a missing or murdered person. One of the butterflies flew right to the floral arrangement at the front of the pavilion.

In the beginning, Richard Grund said he was asked to hold the memorial on Suburban Drive but he said no, that was where something happened to Caylee and it’s not how he wants to remember her. He wants to remember her running around and swinging, just like in that park. Then, he spoke of Caylee. He mentioned those who could not attend and he read a message from Marc Klaas, father of Polly Klaas and now a child advocate who established the KlaasKids Foundation. He spoke of his son, Jesse, who loved Caylee like his own daughter, even when he found out he wasn’t her father. Most of all, he spoke of all children and how we must do everything we can to stop the innocent murders and crimes against our youth, here and around the world.

Children are born as babes in the woods. They are free from sin. How can anyone harm a child? This was his message to the few who came to listen; some who were a part of Caylee throughout her short life. They were friends, neighbors and strangers, but on this day, we were all together to remember the little angel named Caylee Marie Anthony and her presence was felt by all of us.

I’d guess there were about 40 people; not a big crowd, but a very comfortable one. Everyone was nice. One of the things I noticed was that these were ordinary people, the types you’d sit next to in church or at a casual restaurant, the ones you’d feel very comfortable with and easy to strike up a conversation with as you mill about. I had a chance to thank Richard for his dedication to Caylee and her memory. I spoke with Lois Peter and told her we had met the day Leonard Padilla was with the dive team. “As a matter of fact,” I said, “you were at the top of my first blog post about this case. You were wearing your Caylee t-shirt.”

“Back then,” she responded, “I was coming to the park every day.”

I spoke to a friend of hers who told me that her son was messed up on drugs and she had the chance to adopt his child, now four years old. She said she lives near the Anthonys and that place where she still cannot bring herself to drive by to this day. I thought about how her child will never get to meet Caylee now. She said another son went to school with Casey and no one would have believed this.

When the basket of butterflies was opened, only one flew out, the one that went to the flowers and stayed even when everyone was invited to take a rose. In the end, I took a carnation I will preserve in a book with a note explaining where it came from. Dakota Skii wondered why the other butterflies were staying still. Were they dead? she wondered? No, I responded. They were a little shocked and dormant. That’s their way of defending themselves and it was calming to her, reassured that the frail and beautiful creatures were safe from harm.

In the end, I was reassured, too, because everyone there was no different from anyone else. These were people who were moved by Caylee and it was a love fest of sorts. Everyone gathered to pay homage to her and to greet each other with open arms. It was not the largest crowd, but every heart was huge and I could feel it.

The memorial was organized by In Memory of Caylee Marie Anthony.

The following photographs were taken by me. I shot 72 pictures and selected many to show you. I hope each one tells a little story about what it was like and how comforting each person in attendance was. If you have any questions, please ask me. Each picture can be enlarged by clicking on it. It will open in a new page. Click it again. Thank you for taking the time to read this and take a look.

The images are in descending order – the way I took them.

All photos © David B. Knechel 2009 – All rights reserved