Every day of the week after my mom passed away, I was blessed with one miraculous experience after another, as Mom was given the opportunity to show me she was "okay." As my son put it, Grandma was having fun playing. The angel vision was just the first in a series of amazing sights and happenings I will treasure in my heart forever.
On my two-plus-hour drive Tuesday morning, November 4, I was shown the second and most beautiful sight. I was steeling myself for the trip to mom's hometown to meet with the funeral home to plan the services with my sister. Still reeling from mom's death and the vision I had seen from the night before, I know the shock was taking its toll on me. As I glanced heavenward as if pleading with God for some peace, I began to notice the clouds. They were the softest and fluffiest I've ever seen. The cottony composition even had wispy feathers around the edges. This cumulus formation stretched from the driver's side window across my windshield in plain sight. As I realized the rest of the sky was a clear brilliant blue, the outline of the clouds took shape and registered in my mind...they were in the shape of angel's wings. I began laugh-crying thanking Mom for showing me her wings. I exclaimed through my tears how magnificently beautiful they were just like she was in life.
The next day, on my return trip home, I glanced out my window and noticed a bald eagle flying next to my car. Any other time, an eagle in this area is such a rare sighting and is usually so far away that I would've struggled to determine if it was actually an eagle. But this eagle deliberately flew next to my car for a few seconds bringing me a special mom-type comfort. It was at that point I remembered how much Mom loved the song "On Eagles Wings" and I knew it was another sign that she was okay. It wasn't until the next day that I learned my sister was blessed with the same eagle experience on one of her trips up and back.
My next angel encounter needs to be prefaced with a little back story...
Several months ago, I recall Mom and I talking at her kitchen table. I don't even remember now how we got on the subject, but I do remember making a request. I said to her that I would know she was okay up in heaven if she would send me a sign in the form of a purple butterfly.
From the moment I discovered mom was no longer burdened by her earthly confines, I admit I was looking for my purple butterfly.
However, on Wednesday, November 5, as I was out shopping--looking for something to wear to the funeral--I was not thinking about wanting to see a sign. But as I have come to realize, Mom was with me and thinking about me.
I had looked at several different combinations of tops and scarves each producing more and more irritating and condescending comments by the annoying sales clerk. My hubby was patiently standing by for moral support as I was contemplating leaving the store when my miracle occurred.
I glanced down at the jewelry display on my way to the mirror and saw the most extraordinary purple jeweled butterfly scarf clip. My breath caught in my chest, and my husband looked at my expression, as I'm sure the color drained from my face. He immediately asked me if I was okay, and as I struggled to find my voice, I rasped out..."I'll tell you in a minute."
Of course, I bought the butterfly clip AND purchased a top and scarf to match.
.jpg "Purple Butterfly")
Thursday, November 6, my daughter and I went to our Hatha yoga class for some stress relief and a much needed diversion. It was just a small class of four of us plus the yoga instructor. Not wanting to bring the mood of the class down, I didn't say anything ahead of time about just losing my mom. Also, as I knew that we usually do some type of guided meditation at the end of class, I wanted to let that happen naturally without the instructor having any knowledge of what I was dealing with. The stretching and toning poses worked their magic on my tense muscles and then it was time for the meditation. Lying on our backs with eyes closed, we were directed to imagine a healing white light flowing through different parts of our bodies with each breath. The whole time my eyes were closed, I had an aurora-borealis type of light show playing underneath my lids. At one point, I vividly saw bright purple and smiled knowing Mom was with me even then. At the end of class, feeling refreshed and renewed, one of the other gals started talking about the experience she had during the meditation. I have to say I have been going to this particular yoga studio for several months, now, and no one has ever talked about what they had happen during the meditation with this much fervor and description. She began with a smile on her face and exclaimed over the swirls of light she had seen going on beneath her lids, and how she could even pick out the color purple. I definitely had a jaw-dropping moment at that point and could feel the familiar lump in my throat begin to form. The other regular class participant suddenly spoke up as well with surprise in her voice as she agreed that she had seen the color purple with her eyes closed, too, and she had never had that happen before. No longer able to control my emotions, I shared with the class about Mom and how her favorite color was purple. It is extremely incredible that her presence was so strong around me, that she had even affected what the others had experienced during the meditation.
Later that day, I was going through some of the mail and papers on mom's desk. Mom was very good about keeping up with her bill paying, but I wanted to make sure there wasn't something there that needed my attention. I was looking through some envelopes when I came across some cash--enough cash for my sister and I each to shop for an outfit for the visitation (and go out for coffee--on Mom)...more tears as I thought how she was still taking care of us.
The finding of the cash reminded me that Mom had kept a change can in her cupboard. I retrieved it to take to the bank to have it counted. Without looking at the contents, I handed the can to the teller and she walked over to the change counter where she emptied the coins. Before running the counter, I saw her reach in and pluck out something that she plopped back in the can. I assumed it was a foreign coin until she brought the can back over to me. A gold coin--that wasn't a coin at all, but another sign from Mom, gleamed in the bottom of the can. I dumped it out to get a closer look. The angel staring back at me gave me a start, but I managed to keep my sobs in check until getting back out to the car. I had no idea the angel coin was in the can or even where it had come from...except that I knew it was from Mom.
.jpg "Angel Coin")
On the way home from watching my daughter's play on Friday, November 7, I just smiled, as the angel outline in the night sky shown through the clouds. Mom was always going to be with me, watching over me wherever and whenever.
It was the dates of the play productions that we had been working around when planning the visitation and funeral...as the show must go on, and grandma would've wanted her granddaughter to continue with the play. At the time of setting the date for the funeral, nearly six days in advance, the weather prediction for that day was looking dismal--cold and windy with mixed frozen precipitation. Everyday when I checked, the forecast seemed to be worse than the last, so I finally stopped checking, knowing I could do nothing about it--the funeral was going to be when it was going to be.
Two days before the funeral, the percentage for the mixed precipitation had dwindled way down, and the temp was not to be as cold as first predicted. By November 10, the day of the funeral, not only had the precipitation been completely eliminated, it was to be the nicest, warmest day of the week.
As the processional of cars left the church and headed out of town to the little country cemetery on the hill, the sky was a beautiful blue with fluffy white clouds; it was a breezy 58 degrees, and felt quite unbelievable for nearly the middle of November. About a third of the cars made it over the railroad tracks before a train appeared, briefly separating our long line of vehicles. As we waited for the train, I looked up in the sky and saw something I have never seen before. I wouldn't call it a rainbow and it definitely wasn't sun dogs, but it was a colorful prism effect just shimmering through the clouds. I felt sure it was Mom letting us know she was watching the whole thing from her perspective.
A few cars made it across the tracks before an even slower train stopped the processional once more as it rumbled lazily through town. When we arrived at the cemetery, we learned why Mom had caused two trains to delay the process...the bagpipe player was running late and needed a little extra time.
Everyone had plenty of time to arrive, and we only waited a few minutes more for the sounds of the bagpipes to play as the bearers brought the casket forth. An Elvis impersonator sang his rendition of "My Way" just as Mom wanted, followed by the committal prayer and then "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes. A beautiful service on a beautiful day for a beautiful Mamma. No sooner had the services ended then the clouds grew thicker and darker. As the day went on, the temperatures began dropping and the snow arrived during the night, coating everything in a purifying dusting of white.
The Angel-Love that Mom showed me all week made it possible for me to continue to function while the whole world went on about its business oblivious to my loss.
I'm still sad, but it's more about my own selfishness of not having Mom here anymore then about anything I could have or should have done differently while she was alive. I thank God everyday for the time I got to spend with my mom and feel even more blessed that she is now my angel.
Here are a couple quotes I found this week...
Everyday, grief puts on a new face. You don't get over it, you just get through it. You don't get by it, because you can't get around it. It doesn't get better, it just gets different.
Those we love don't go away. They walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard, but always near. Still loved, still missed and very dear.
Feeling so distraught over not being there when mom died, I believe she was reaching out to me to let me know she had not been alone.
Mom and I had been so close for so many years that we knew when the other was upset or out of sorts just by being in the same room together. We had such a strong bond, that if anyone was able to reach out to another from the afterlife, I believe she could to me. I'm convinced that is what happened.
Because of my mindset when this occurred, even with my sometimes overactive imagination, there is no way I could have conjured up the vision I'm about to describe...
As I lay in bed,sleep not possible--just 24 hours after mom had passed on--I closed my eyes. Just on the verge of eyes wide shut, I began to see a picture like it was being projected onto my eyelids. At first, I wasn't sure what I was seeing or why. Then, as the postage-stamp-sized picture came into focus, I fought to make it stay so I could make out the details. The specifics were fuzzy and dark, but I was definitely standing in mom's living room in front of her recliner and window looking toward her dressing chair where I had found her that fateful Sunday morning. I suddenly became aware that I was not the only one in the room in my vision. Several winged figures were also present--gathered around and facing the chair where mom sat, as if they were patiently waiting.
At this point, I became more than a little startled and opened my eyes, not actually believing what I was seeing. Wanting to see more, however, I soon closed my eyes again and got to that point between eyes closed tight and just on the verge of them opening to see if the picture reappeared beneath my lids.
As the image came into view once again, I now realized there was a smaller winged figure sitting in the middle of the floor between mom and I; he was facing mom, as well, with his legs folded underneath and vee'd out next to him. Realizing that what I was seeing were angels in the room with mom and I, I felt sure the younger angel was her older brother who had died as an infant, and the others were my grandma and grandpa, my great aunt Marie, and mom's grandparents.
I let my eyes come open again as I tried to process what I was seeing and let it sink in, but quickly closed them to see if the image remained.
What happened in the next image frightened me as mom's body appeared to rise up out of the chair and take the form of a black cloud. I opened my eyes again out of fear, but let them close once more to focus on the next event.
The angels in the room began gathering around the black cloud producing a white robe with wings that they wrapped around the figure. It was at that very moment when mom received her angel body and wings that I knew she hadn't been alone, and I had been given a most amazing gift of being allowed to see what had occurred.
The images I have included herein to illustrate what I saw, are from a picture I took in mom's living room showing my viewpoint and then digitally enhancing various clip art photos in an attempt to preserve, as close as I can, what I saw--as I want be able to remember it and share it with as many people as possible.
Incidentally, the cross directly above mom's head is inscribed with the word "BELIEVE" and the other wall had a picture of my grandparents from their 50th wedding anniversary. Of all the places in mom's house where she could have taken her last breath, I believe this was no accident given that on All Saints Day, the saints came to whisk her away to a pain-free existence where she no longer had to be short of breath, or deal with anxiety, or carry around the extra weight that was causing her such joint aches and swelling that it kept her from just about all activity except sitting.
If this vision alone was all that happened to me in that first week after mom passed away, it would definitely be enough for me to believe in an afterlife, if I hadn't already. But being the good and faithful servant that mom was in her earthly existence, she got to "play" a bit and show me several more miracles before ascending to heaven to stroll walker-free on the streets made of gold...
"Describe for your partner these things associated with a 30-day photo challenge."
"Leaves."
"Celestial figurines."
"A Seashell."
"A latte."
"Things that are beige."
I suppose this could possibly be dialogue for The $10,000 Pyramid...but not very likely.
After all, beige is not really a color. Beige is a personality trait. Beige is the equivalent to bland or neutral. I actually worked with someone at an attorney's office one time who would describe people using that color...
"She is so beige."
And don't even get me started on taupe. Taupe is a color that should only be used when describing unfortunate orthopedic shoes.
So, if it is not beige, and it is not taupe, is it tan? Can't be. Tan is the leathery, carcinogenic covering of someone who spends too much time in the sun.
What about "linen?" ... Do I look like I work in hotel housekeeping?
Let's face it...someone just wanted to fancy up the color light brown by clenching, extending their pinkie, and reading a name from the bottom of a cosmetic compact.
Even Google is confused. When I searched for images using the term "beige," colors I would describe as being cream, ivory, and even gray all came up as possibilities.
If you want to beige up an image, I suggest the use of a brown filter.
I actually didn't think I would have that much to say on the topic of beige. I guess dispassionate color topics need their day in the sun, too! Haha!
