Our only regret
When we leave this world for the next, what do we take with us?
Be sure to travel, light
I am a self-taught canner. One year I grew a bumper crop of tomatoes, and 20-ish years later, here we are. My grandmother, Betty, used to can everything from her garden – plums, berry jam, apple sauce, you name it! She never taught me, preferring to brew up kitchen magic on her own. I probably wasn't even interested back then. Suffice to say we weren't close when she was alive.
We lived physically close. She lived three doors down in a little cottage next door to George and Zett, but she could have lived a world away. She was a person who lived silently among my family. Let me tell you, when I say ‘silent’ I mean it! Betty could vanish without notice when things got bumpy around my mom, which was more often than not. She would disappear from a party or Sunday dinner, and no one would notice for a while. Invisibility was her superpower. In her life, my grandmother was a mystery to me.
Many of you know she visited me three times in my dreams while I carried my son. Those three dreams during my pregnancy shifted all I learned at Sunday School about Heaven.
During my pregnancy I wondered why my grandmother visited me in my dreams. The moment my son was born, I looked at the clock on the wall. I wanted to know the exact time. My gaze then slid down from the second hand on that clock to the tile wall. I saw my grandmother Betty, soft, fading, but she was there.
Our only regret
What I learned is that the only regret we carry into the next life is the love we don't express.
The apology we don't offer.
The forgiveness we could give but won't.
The generosity we withhold, whether a longed-for treasure, an experience we deny ourselves or others, or just a simple act of kindness.
When we remain silent when we should say (and do) something.
Love is all there is.
The love we withhold during our life becomes a burden when we cross over, behind the veil into the next life. Marley told Scrooge when he made his auspicious Christmas Eve visit, it is a chain forged, link by terrible link. Here’s what’s important: No matter what happened to us earlier in life, we can’t blame others for our actions and choices. Withholding love when we should have done different forges a heavy and long chain of regret that we wear in the next life.
I’ve come to believe that heaven granted my grandmother the opportunity to relieve her burden, to unmake that chain and to set her soul free. Wow. We can get a second chance behind the veil. I wonder if Dickens toyed with the notion of an epilogue, of Marley being set free from his chains, because I learned from my grandmother heaven does that for some of us.
Her presence reminds me
In her first visit, she assured me, “don’t worry about Sam, I’m watching over him.” It wasn’t until the moment Samuel (I call him by his full name) was born that I understood her meaning. In that first dream visit I didn’t know I was carrying him. Samuel was born alive, and I’m simply grateful because we discovered the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck five times.
I’ve heard the phrase that grace is receiving what we don’t deserve and mercy is not receiving what we do deserve. Either way, her presence reminds me, I am grateful. I often think about what my life would-have-been if she hadn’t intervened. Truly, her presence – and her intervention – was miraculous. I reflect often that when heaven granted her a chance to free herself, she also blessed me and our family.
After my son was born, I knew that my grandmother was at peace. Her messages were a gift. One autumn night, not too long after my little baby boy was fast asleep, I canned marinara. The still-warm night wrapped its cloak around me and I began my ritual. It’s become a homage to her for her presence when I didn't know I needed her so much. While I canned that night, memories of her dream visits kept me company.
Back then, we still had landlines. Ik,r? In between pulling jars out of the water bath, the phone on the kitchen wall rang – it was late. Who would be calling at this hour? I wondered and then answered the phone. After I said "Hello" (because that phone didn't have a caller ID display! GASP!), a woman responded, "Hi, honey, it's grandma. I sure love you!"
Wait. What? 🔥
"Omigoodness," I breathed out my complete surprise, trying to keep my voice steady when I really wanted to cry. "I think you have the wrong number, but I was just thinking of my own grandmother when you called!"
"Well, there are no coincidences," she was giving grandmotherly advice to a complete stranger and I was ALL. IN. "Wherever your grandmother is, she is thinking of you, too, and she loves you very much."
Of course, I started crying and blubbered some kind of thanks. After we hung up, I sat in my kitchen. Counted my blessings for a good long while. I've always remembered it.
Sometimes a dream is not just a dream. When it’s vivid. When there is a specific message. When you wake and remember all of it. Be open to the magical love notes and messages you receive that seem to arrive out-of-the-blue. Remember, there are no coincidences. Sometimes they signal the veil has thinned between this world and the next.
If you have regrets, now, unpack that emotional baggage. Sort through it and make peace with yourself -- and others if you can. When it's time to depart this life for the next, you'll travel light. Count your blessings and remember, from beginning to end ...
Love strengthens everything.
