Unexpected Blessings

Unexpected Blessings

After 16 hours of traveling from a remote village in Greece with my two children and no travel doula, I was really looking forward to the first week in nearly seven years that both my children would be in camp from 9am to 3pm. This would surely give me enough time to bang out another book or launch an empire. At the very least I could restock the fridge and unpack the suitcases.

But instead, right as I walked in to teach my first yoga class in three weeks, a text from a childhood friend popped up saying that she was with my grandmother. No cause for concern. It was Sunday and they often went to church together. But the second line, “She’s just resting now” caused alarm. My grandmother didn’t “just rest” unless she was not well.

For the next 90 minutes there was nothing I could do but breathe and teach yoga. When class ended my mother called and said not to worry, that my grandmother would be fine. They had already started physical therapy. So I decided not to go. Alone with two kids, I would have to call in a lot of favors to hop on a plane to St. Louis. I would wait until Nick returned from Greece two weeks later. By then she’d be home and I could avoid the hospital all together.

But the next morning, right after dropping off the kids at their respective camps, my cousin sent word that my grandmother had gone from stable to critical. She wasn’t breathing on her own anymore. My hands started to shake. My Mammy wasn’t breathing on her own. It felt like I wasn’t either.

I booked the next flight out, which wasn’t until 3pm, then organized a babysitter and a friend to stay with the kids for the next two nights, packed my clothes, slipping in the black dress, just in case. Now what? With four more hours until the flight, rather than pace around the house I decided to run and to pray. And as much as I wanted to pray that she would recover, I knew this wasn’t the prayer. Instead I prayed that I would get there in time to see her and hold her hand and THEN she could do whatever was best for her. Deep down I knew this wasn’t the prayer either, but I wasn’t ready for any of that surrender stuff yet.

When I returned from running, my cousin told me they would be taking her off the life support at some point during the day and that she would continue breathing on her own for a while. “Please make them wait for me!” I screamed in my head. But what I actually said was, “Okay, well I hope I make it in time.”

While waiting for my Lyft something told me to ask my cousin put us on FaceTime. Through the cracked screen of my phone I saw her. Nervously I told her how much I loved her and that if not for her most of our family probably wouldn’t know Jesus. Hearing this, she turned toward the phone, opened her eyes for a moment and moved her right arm as if to reach for me the way she always did when she saw me, or any of her beloved grandchildren. Toni Morrison who left the planet on the very same day, said that children know they are loved, not by what we do or say but by the way our eyes light up when they walk into the room. Even over the phone, from her hospital bed, with her half-paralyzed body she managed to light up for me.

After saying goodbye I collected my things and myself, and ran out the door. “No need to rush, my dear," said my Lyft driver. Her calm, warm-heartedness and her name, the same as my best friend, soothed me. She had an “I Love Jesus” air freshener swinging on her rearview mirror. Her whole family happened to live in St. Louis. When she dropped me off she said, “Everything will be okay, one way or another.”

Anxious that I would be at the back of the plane, I walked up to the counter to ask if I could be moved, but then looked down and saw seat 2A on the ticket. My dad agreed to pick me up from the airport so we could speed down the highway, make it to her bedside and see her one more time.

On the plane I chewed on ice and drank seltzer. The flight attendant didn’t know my story, but he was kind and offered me extra cookies. When the plane landed I held my breath and turned on my phone. My heart jumped into my throat waiting for the texts to appear and then it sank into my belly when they did. She passed 15 minutes before the plane landed. I let out a sigh, grabbed my bag and walked slowly off the plane, rather than racing as planned.

After hugging me, my dad suggested we go to the hospital anyway. The thought was frightening, but my hands made the call. A kind nurse said they would keep her in her bed until we got there. My dad walked behind. I went in alone to the cool, quiet room.  Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open like the front door through which her spirit left her body. I touched her gently. The hand that reached for the phone just a few hours earlier, was growing cold, but her face was still warm. I kissed her cheeks and told her all the things I wanted to say. I thanked her for all the times she held me in her rocking chair when I was little and my parents were with my brother in the hospital. For all the fun parties at her house, swimming in the pool, sitting next to her on the piano bench and swinging with her under the gazebo. I forgave her for running over my dog with her car…twice. We got our special time alone together to say goodbye after all.

And what unfolded from there were a thousand moments of synchronicity and blessing through which the Universe demonstrated that while we may not get what we want we are always being held so tenderly and loved so fiercely.

Despite my discouragement Nick flew home early from Greece and then drove 16 hours with our kids from New Jersey to St. Louis. My parents got to spend time with their grandkids. And I nearly fell over when my wheelchair-bound brother, who looked better than he had in years, stood up from his wheelchair and said, “let’s go!” 

We spent time with all the family and friends that flew and drove in to be there for the celebration of our matriarch’s life.

Even my grandfather, who had struggled so much over the previous few days, ended up leading a hilarious conversation around the kitchen table about our Mammy and her unique driving style.

My health and wellness company's annual conference happened to be on our route back home. So we stopped in Nashville for a soul rejuvenating celebration. United Airlines even refunded all of our flight costs for the several flights we ended up canceling and changing.

After all that, while driving the last few hours back to New Jersey, with my three people sleeping in the car, a sense of deep wellbeing and ease came over me. All the love from family and friends, all the abundance and opportunities for joy flooded in and then I saw an incredible cloud in the sky.

Probably no one else would see what I saw, but to me it looked like a woman with her hand out blowing something off of her palm. Was it a kiss, a blessing, a secret message?

I don’t know, but I know it was meant for me and it was exactly what I needed. I also know for sure that death is not an end, but simply a change of address, and that life is continually unfolding in our favor.

That doesn’t mean we always get exactly what we want, but we always get exactly what we need.

Namaste,
EJ