Guidance from our lost loved ones
Losing someone you care about can be devastating. Processing this emotion seems daunting, at best. Many people turn to alcohol or use other drugs to cope…they numb themselves. I used to be one of these people who struggled to find the strength to accurately process emotions associated with loss.
In 2017 my grandmother, Emily Steele, was suffering from dementia and started to go downhill quickly. I was on a business trip in Dallas when I received a phone call informing me she was in the hospital and not doing well. She was close to passing away and it was gut wrenching. I didn’t know how to escape the pain I was feeling?
My grandparents raised me while my mom was sick with multiple sclerosis and constantly in and out of the hospital. My grandfather taught me to value hard work. He also taught me how to approach life with integrity. My grandmother was a beautiful soul. She was a painter and loved art. She loved having a cup of tea and sitting around the dining room table just talking. Sometimes we played Scrabble and she would tell me how smart I was, although I rarely saw my own potential.
I rushed home from Dallas to be by my grandmothers side while she transitioned into the next life. Out of respect for her, I chose to not numb out, so I could be present for her and the rest of the family. She was barely recognizable and far from the woman I had seen just ten days prior. I barely held it together and had to leave the hospital room several times to take some deep breaths and hold it all together for the strong matriarch of my family.
As I held my grandmothers hand, something strange happened. I looked in her eyes and then I looked around at the room full of family. I knew that my family would expect me to drink and go down hill. They knew I had the inability to process hurt, pain, stress, and walk through tough times.
As my grandmother was losing strength while transitioning to hospice care, I was suddenly gaining strength and confidence. I was feeling like I could be there with her, holding her hand with one of my hands, and holding my moms hand with the other. I began to see the beauty of the life this magnificent woman lived. I stopped dwelling on the pain, and instead focused my energy on her.
I remembered meeting with a nuclear physicist who had retired and become a high ranking member of a large religion prevalent in Utah. Twenty years before my grandmother passed, I was in this man’s office. I saw a large mural of a beautiful woman in a long, modest red dress. Because my grandmother was an artist, I’m quick to compliment pieces of art that resonate with me. I told him how beautiful it was. He turned his chair so his back was toward me and he said, “yes, isn’t she beautiful? That’s my wife who died many years ago. You know Cort, we are closer now that she’s on the other side than we’ve ever been before.” I had goose bumps all over my skin and a chill down my neck. It was awe-inspiring.
I remembered my experience with this great man as I was holding my grandmothers hand. It was a subtle feeling of peace, love, and hope. I began to realize that I could, indeed, embrace a new relationship with my grandmother.
This didn’t have to be the end. In fact, it was just the beginning. Then her last breath.
I was roughly six months sober at the time. I knew my grandmother better than most and I was counted on to play a significant role in the funeral processes. I spoke and joked about the times she would always beat me playing Scrabble. My grandmother left a few of her paintings to me.
A few months later, I felt like I had the courage to open the container with the paintings inside. When I lifted up the lid…I was with my daughter…I felt a breeze of energy that’s hard to articulate. It was positive, filled with light, hope, and courage. I had to close the lid immediately because the energy felt so uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, it was an amazing wave of optimism, but it felt weird.
Logically, this made no sense to me. My logic brain gave me several reasons this wasn’t possible.
My daughter was six years old at the time looked at me and said, “Daddy, what are you so weirded-out about? Nana talks to me when I eat cereal sometimes.” “She does”, I said curiously? My daughter walked away and said, “yep. Let me know when you want to hang up her paintings.”
I knew a person that was a Medium. I was always kind to her but kind of thought Medium’s were fit for a straight jacket. I thought calling them “weird” was being nice. But I was suddenly challenging many of my prior beliefs, so I called my friend and asked her to do a session with me.
She knew things that were very, very specific and that nobody else would know outside of me and my grandmother. My friend didn’t know my grandmother. They had never met. Heck, me and the Medium had never met. The nuggets of information that she gave me left a permanent impression on my heart. She told me that my grandmother would speak to me through her art and through sequences of consecutive numbers. She said when I saw numbers like 4:44 and 11:11, they all had meaning. Some of what she said was random. But I was so grateful for that Medium in that moment. We are still great friends to this day and she has helped me more than words can adequately express.
Her advice left me with a permanent open-mind. The random stuff she told me…it all came true. I had my mom involved so that I had a witness because anyone I told was going to think I was crazy.
I began a voyage to find my inner-artist, my creative self, the type of skills my grandmother always thought I would find and bring into the light some day. I feel my grandmother with me often. The purer I can keep my own motives, thoughts, and actions…the more I notice my sweet grandmother by my side.
My grandfather re-married at the age of 95. He lived with his new bride for two years before he passed.
After he passed, I started working a little harder on improving myself. I doubled down on creating myself. I worked so hard on becoming a better man. I kept my mind open to the possibilities of my goals and aspirations.
Along with my son and my daughter, we started the Steele Institute for Personal and Professional Development, in my grandparents honor. I’m not sure exactly where the idea came from, but I rolled with it.
During my prayers and meditation each night, I can feel their loving spirit close by whispering words of encouragement, guidance, and higher-road courage. I’m proud to say that I’m working on my fifth year of sobriety. The death of my grandmother started a ripple effect that has allowed me to help change the lives of others all across the world.
If you open your mind, challenge limiting beliefs, and increase awareness, you will find that death is just a worn out term. There’s no such thing. We have the ability to use a loved one passing on as a platform of support. A lighthouse to help guide us.
The next time you’re faced with pain and hurt, take them by the hand to engage their energy. You may just find that “death” is actually just a transference of energy from one soul to another.
