The Angel in the Sky and the Message in a Dream

Grandma Darling Saying Goodbye, Grief & Loss Originally written July 30, 2015

My maternal grandmother died on November 7, 1993. I called her Grandma Darling, and she was only 55 years old when she passed unexpectedly, shockingly, and devastatingly.

Her loss carved a hole in every heart she touched. She played an irreplaceable role in our lives, and no one~ not then, not now could fill the space she left behind. It is such a sacred gift when I notice her spirit shining through her children and grandchildren. A gesture, a smile, a stubborn streak… she lives on in the small, beautiful ways.

My grandma made me understand love. Not the kind that asks for something in return. Not the kind that withholds. The kind that shows up because it loves. Love, she taught me, makes time to listen. Love is forgiving. Love is patient and nonjudgmental. She also taught me that we often take those we love the most for granted until it’s too late.

Losing her was incredibly hard. She was the second person I ever truly loved who died. Her absence didn't just leave me aching; it changed the structure of our family. The glue she provided came undone. I still miss her goodness every single day.

This past weekend, during the St. Matt’s Teen ACTS Retreat, I felt her close. One of my daughter’s best friends, Tahlia (my sweet “spirit animal” whom I love like my own), lost her grandmother while we were away.

My heart broke for her. From the stories I heard, her grandmother reminded me so much of mine. A radiant, beloved woman. I wanted desperately to take away Tahlia’s pain, to be a balm for her aching soul but I knew I couldn’t. No one can dull that kind of loss. So I did the only thing I could do: I shared what I’d learned. I shared how grief doesn't follow rules, how it arrives in waves and memories and moments that feel holy and hollow all at once.

When we returned from the retreat, I picked up my kids. As we looked toward the sky, we all stopped. There was this beam of light. An ethereal glow stretched across the heavens, and right there in the clouds it looked like an angel. I pointed it out to my children. “Look in the middle,” I told them, “you can even see a halo.” That moment lingered. So did the peace. The next morning, my daughter Miley only 8 years old at the time ran to me with wide eyes and a pounding heart. She said, “Mom, I had a dream. I met your grandma. She was so beautiful! It looked kind of like the sky the other day, where we saw the angel.” I was stunned. I never talk much about my grandma not out loud, not around Miley. I keep it tucked inside because it still stings. But Miley continued: “She told me, ‘I’m your mom’s Grandma Darling. One day, I’ll spend more time with you. And tell your mom ~~I love her.’” Then she kissed Miley on the cheek. I froze. Then I cried. It was everything I didn’t know I needed to hear.

“Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace…” That prayer came alive in me again. The one about sowing love where there is hatred, hope where there is despair, light where there is darkness. It was never just a prayer. It was my grandma’s entire life.

Right after she died, I had a dream. I was an infant in her arms again. She held me, kissed me, and poured all her love into me just like she always had. I even remembered her scent. She always wore her Providence High School uniform shirt even years after she graduated. That detail in my dream made it feel real. I woke up in tears, comforted and heartbroken at the same time. I felt her. But I knew it wouldn’t last.

What makes a woman amazing? Her heart. It shows in the smallest gestures her smile, the light in her eyes and in the grandest of battles, where she holds grace and grit at once. A woman like that walks with elegance. She persists with purpose. She is beautiful in ways that can’t be photographed because her soul radiates. She is unforgettable. She is a rare pearl. And anyone blessed enough to love a woman like her? They are lucky beyond words.