The first person close to me that died was my beautiful paternal grandmother, Jean. She was a strong, powerful woman with a wicked sense of humour and a graceful elegance.  She was beyond her time, working to earn her own money and buy her own treasured jewellery, including a half sovereign that she wore every day, which I now have the honour to wear.  A keen gardener, she loved the feel of the earth in her hands and refused for that reason to wear gardening gloves.  Visiting her as a child was a magical experience, and she’d tell me stories that delighted my young imagination.   One of those stories was that the hundreds of Fuchsia flowers that grew in her garden came alive at night and danced together on the lawn.  That image was such a joyful one for me, and I believed her wholeheartedly.

During her later years she lived with steadily worsening Alzheimer’s disease, so our loss of her felt gradual rather than sudden.  Yet, right up until the end of her physical life, we shared beautiful moments of knowing and understanding and we communicated through our feelings and our deep love for each other beyond the limitations of speech.

When she transcended her physicality and her soul chose to leave this plane, I was gripped by grief that hit me like a wave of freezing water.  Although it was expected, I was in shock. My sadness enveloped me.

One morning, around 1 month after she’d passed, when life was beginning to shift to a new kind of ‘normal’ without her, I lay in bed feeling that familiar surge of sadness that I couldn’t visit her.  I silently called her towards me, asking for a sign that she was okay and then, as per my spiritual understanding of what was required, I released that intention and thought no more of it.

I got ready for work as normal and opened my front door ready to face the day.  To my amazement, in the hanging basket that I had left untended for the entire, bitter UK winter, was a perfect, single, fully-opened Fuchsia flower.  In a basket that I had never been planted with a Fuchsia plant.  In a basket that I hadn’t even noticed anything was growing in before that day.

In that moment, I knew it was my sign from her.  She was okay, she was safe, she was loved, and she is LOVE.  Love that is powerful enough to surpass the veil between worlds.

That moment cemented my faith and healed my pain so beautifully.  It was a reminder that LOVE always wins. It wasn’t the first time that the divine had shown up in my life, and I know it won’t be the last.

This is for you, my beautiful Nan, dance & sing with the angels and your family.  Be surrounded by love, you are love.

Have you had a divine experience before? I’d love to hear about them in the comments

Love, Em x

 

Hey! I'm Emma.

Self love coach, spritual student & teacher.  Committed to supporting the awakening of the millenial generation.