Messages From My Grandparents... In Heaven

Introduction Embracing Your Willingness to Communicate

I was not yet on this earth when my father’s mother departed. I was four years old when my grandfather on my father’s side passed away. When I was a year away from getting married at thirty-two, my grandmother on my mother’s side went back home to heaven. Despite these age differences, I’ve learned and experienced through the years that all three of my grandparents have impacted my life in various ways while on earth and now in heaven. Even my grandmother, whom I never met still connects with me today. They are all truly my guardian angels. The passing of a loved one is never easy. There can be so many words left unsaid or plans still not arranged. It sometimes happens suddenly—or it’s just a matter of days. Among the many types of relationships that are hardest to face, losing a grandparent can be agonizing. They are the grounding, the bedrock of your family. Your idols suddenly aren’t physically there anymore. Your grandparents may have even raised you if your biological parents were deceased. This could make a grandparent’s passing even more difficult. No matter what role your grandparents have played in your life, their connection doesn’t end when they leave this earth.

As a Certified Angel Card Reader, Angelic Life Coach, and someone who has studied metaphysics, I’ve come to know that my grandparents’ spirits never left and their love never wavered. I strongly feel their presence in many ways, through my clairvoyant (clear seeing) and clairsentient (clear feeling) abilities. (These abilities are explained further in chapter I.) My visions and intuitiveness have ensured me that my grandparents are now healthier and happier. Surrounded by harmony, they watch vigilantly over me. Whether or not you are aware of these abilities, you can still feel a connection with your grandparents. Our deceased loved ones leave numerous signs for us to recognize. In this book, you will discover how to identify these signs and possibly discover some of your own. Your experiences may mirror the ones I have encountered. Your life experiences don’t matter; you just have to be open to the messages given by those you have lost and be clear to receive them.

The grief can be grim and deep; without knowing it, you may block yourself from receiving messages from your grandparents or other loved ones. It may feel like it’s taking forever to receive the connection or a sign that you need. As you read this book, you’ll discover that some—or all—of these reasons may pertain to you or someone you know who is facing the loss of a grandparent.

Everyone Grieves Differently

There’s no specific way to grieve for the loss of a grandparent or a loved one. We all try to handle this deep emotion in the best way we can when it arrives. There are many stages and steps in individual healing. Some stay quiet and wish to be alone. Others prefer to be around many people and reminisce about those they lost. There are even those who ask, Why haven’t I cried yet? Is there something wrong with me? I faced similar questions in 2011.

When I was growing up, I attended various wakes—but not funerals due to my age then. There were passing’s of neighbors, friends of the family, or family members I had never met or only knew vaguely. I remember feeling sad, but I didn’t understand the depth of what it meant to lose someone. At one wake, I watched a dear neighbor as she looked upon her husband who had passed. I sensed what she might have been feeling, but I did not fully feel the hurt.

When my grandfather died, I was only four. I don’t remember crying when I heard of his passing. While composing this book, I asked my father, “What did you tell me when I was younger about why Papa wasn’t alive anymore?”

My father had explained, “Papa is with God and Jesus in heaven now.” My younger self took the news well. I was comforted because I knew a place was waiting and ready for my grandfather. Something inside me knew that death wasn’t an ending. Children see the hope and the real truth behind what life truly embodies. When my Grandma Marie passed away in 2011, I finally was greeted with my first multilevel impact of loss as an adult. It started with a call early in the morning from my mother Sandy. When she started to speak, I knew something was wrong. I had known my grandmother was sick and had few remaining options, but I was still shocked when I finally received word.

I cried, “I was supposed to see her, and I didn’t last week. Oh God, Noooo!!!! I was supposed to see her!” I had prayed to her soul and to her angels while she was sick. If she needed to go and wanted to release herself from the pain, she had to do what she needed to do. I had prayed that I would still love and understand her and could release her so she could find peace. About two weeks later, she passed tranquilly in her sleep. I didn’t cry heavily during the wake; I just gazed at how beautiful she looked during her viewing. On one night between the wakes, I had my first visit with my grandma. I felt her leaning over me and hugging my right side as I was trying to fall asleep. Through my cognizant (clear knowing) abilities, I knew I’d see her again one day. I instantly knew she wasn’t far away despite her physically not being here on earth. I understood she was where she needed to be. A knowingness washed over me. Just like I’m sure that one plus one equals two, I had an unwavering notion of her essence.

After her funeral, the afternoon sun confidently broke through the vast cumulus lineup. I recognized her soul was smiling through the March sky. That warm, peaceful, encouraging moment made me smile instantaneously. The sun definitely had more gleam than usual; Grandma revealed to us all that she was in no more discomfort. Some months later, I visited my parents’ house in Brooklyn. On the way, I felt a need to pass by my grandmother’s old apartment. She had lived about fifteen minutes away from my parents. I stepped outside my fiancé’s (at the time) double-parked car and walked toward my healing. I walked through the last few layers of experiencing the loss of Grandma Marie.

I hadn’t been near the front door of her apartment complex in so long. Everything looked the same: the angle of the walkway, the four garbage pails on the left side, and the gray chains swooping in front of them. The golden light still shined downward, revealing the doorway, the call box, and her red-brown brick building. I hovered my finger over 2C and pressed it in my mind to gain entrance. I heard the entry door buzzing loudly and clearly. My body remained standing there, but my memories led me inside as the door opened with a familiar heavy click inside my mind.