A Kind Of Healing

September 11, 2016 was the 15^th Anniversary of the terrorist attacks on our Country.  But that isn’t what I’m talking about.  I’m talking about my own, personal healing.  Something happened that shook my soul.  

The day is a beautiful sunny fall day.  The sky is so blue you want to close your eyes & never forget it.  Just a whisper of a breeze.  Just enough to let you know that you are not alone.  At one point, we all smelled bacon cooking.  But that was impossible!  The family was gathered at the grave in the cemetery.  

I truly believe in Angels
and the power they have here on Earth.

This is a difficult day for me.  My mother had requested that my siblings & I, our spouses, and her grandchildren, all join her at my father’s grave on the 2^nd anniversary of his death (2014).  This was a troubling request for me.  “Why?” you ask.  Because for several years as a child, he molested me.  And because I had distanced myself from family.  Emotionally, this request was not something I wanted to do.  But, with the support of my husband, we joined this family gathering.

So much has happened over many years.  All the memories & feelings of a daughter grieving for the love of family came flooding over me.  But I remained calm & silent.  My brother spoke of GOOD memories that he had of Dad.  As I sat there listening, I was also waiting for GOOD memories to come to mind.  Unfortunately, they did not.  So I sat and quietly continued to listen. 

When my brother was finished speaking, he asked if anyone else had a GOOD memory they wished to share.  It got quiet.  Real quiet.  No one had anything to share.  Then we decided to visit our grandparent’s grave (my mother’s parents).  This is a beautiful place where they are laid to rest.  Right next to a large sculpture of the Lord’s Last Supper.  I always love going to see where they are laid.  It’s peaceful.

We gathered around grandma & grandpa’s grave.  Flowers were placed.  Memories over-took me.  I could no longer contain myself.  I choked on the words.  “I remember the love Grandpa had for Grandma.  Always referring to her as ‘his Miss America’.  They held hands often.”   My brother, who is 3 years younger than I, did not remember any of this. 

Then, something wonderful happened.  Every single one of us smelled bacon cooking.  Not just one of us.  ALL OF US!  There’s no restaurant nearby cooking.  There’s no homes either.  The large main building to the cemetery was off in the distance.  We could not explain it.  With my voice steady & strong I said, “That’s Grandma!  She is cooking and is here with us!” 

I know my Grandmother was with me at that moment.  She helped me & comforted me during a difficult time.  Returning with my family to my father’s grave.  From inside, the Child was still screaming.  But my Grandmother was comforting her. 

On September 11, 2016

Anniversary of 9/11

Anniversary of my father’s death

Anniversary of my son’s baptism

and on Grandparents’ Day

My Grandmother was comforting ME

Yes!  I do believe in Angels. 

For I know they walk with me. 

The storm has passed. See the rainbow?

It’s beautiful. Life is beautiful.

And you are beautiful too.

© IAMicried

Visions of Rainbows

5/31/2013

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