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#Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul -# Emily Dickinson

3/21/2015

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I was very close to my maternal Grandmother. I have vivid and wonderful
childhood memories of her, including sharing guilty pleasures, like picking at the
roast beef in the kitchen after Sunday dinners, and making daisy chain jewelry
on a hot sunny afternoon, while the steam train tooted, and chugged,
"I think I can, I think I can, I think I can", on the tracks over the wall at the top of
the garden.
When my Grandmother died, I was in my mid Thirties, and I missed her terribly.
She had played a very influencial and loving role in my life as a child, and long
into my adult life.
By the time I left England and came to America, she had grown very frail and
was in her late 90's when she passed away. She died not long after my daughter
was born, and was I was not able to share with her my joys of new Motherhood.
While going through a long, and acrimonious divorce, I would often think of her,
and ask for her forgiveness for my percieved guilt; the effect it had on my
daughter Charlotte, and the disruption of my everyday life.
One of the ways I was able to reduce my stress was to have acupuncture.
It was during an acupuncture treatment, when I was left on my own to rest and
meditate, that I saw my Grandmother again.
Her face appeared to me as a bright and beautiful apparition, soft and wrinkled
and glowing, surrounded by a ring of downy white goose feathers. She
appeared in a halo of down and sunlight, streaming through the shades of the
treatment room window. She was smiling, and said,
" Sue, I understand. It's alright. I forgive you. "
She lingered for a while, and then faded. I woke up, or I became aware that I
was awake.
I was not sure that I had been dreaming. I just knew that she had been there,
and felt a tremendous sense of relief and comfort.
After I left the clinic, I walked to my car.
In the afterglow of my relaxation, and my experience, I reached to open the car
door, and dropped my keys.
I bent down to pick them up, and there, next to my keys, was a beautiful, pristine
white feather!
I picked it up, and wiping my tears, secreted it away, like the precious rare gift
that it was.
I have kept my white feather in a box, with other memories of Gran.
Every now and then, when I need to prove it to myself, I take out the precious
feather and remember her face, serene and beautiful.
I share this story with you today, because I often ponder what lies in
store for us after we die.
I do not share the certainty that there is a heaven, or life after death. I think I
might believe in reincarnation, but I have no proof.
However, I do know that somehow, energy and love linger in a meaningful way,
even in some form, and it gives me great comfort to think that my Grandmother did
actually come back to visit me.
As a spitiual person, I believe she did.
I hope that you enjoyed my story, and that it might be meaningful to you.
May you have a wonderful weekend
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    Susan Golden

    Born, raised and educated in Cornwall, England., Sue moved to America in 1981.
    After many years of life experience, her first bookof poetry for social change, is published. Available on iBooks.
     https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-moon-of-compassion/id892598396?mt=11

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