Grief & Grace - Moments I Didn’t See Coming

"Sometimes the most powerful messages come in the softest moments."

As I reflect on the days leading up to the loss of Russ and Ariel, I can’t help but feel that their souls somehow knew the path ahead—and were sending quiet signs I didn’t recognize at the time.

The Friday before they left, we took the girls out to eat. Sonja was happily coloring, while Ariel rested her head on the table, coloring quietly. I wondered if something was troubling her, but she assured me all was fine. At the time, I thought perhaps she was simply tired or feeling off, never imagining it could mean more.

The next day, at a Daisy Girl Scout puppet show, Ariel sat on my lap while her friend Megan and her mom arrived. Normally, Ariel and Megan would greet each other with a joyful hug, but Ariel stayed on my lap, quietly observing. I wondered if she was feeling unwell—again, unaware that this tender behavior might be a gentle sign.

Later that day, while I was working, Russ came up behind me and removed my locket—the one with a picture of both girls—to clean it. He placed my necklace back around my neck, and in that moment, I noticed he had put his cross necklace on me, the one he wore daily. When I asked why, he simply said he thought I needed it more than him. At the time, I attributed it to my stress and busy week ahead—but now I see it as more than that: a subtle message of care, love, and perhaps preparation for what was to come.

Sunday was our family day. That morning Russ asked me to cut his hair. As I did, he opened my robe and wrapped me in a long hug. I smiled, thinking how much he must have missed us after being away, but looking back, I feel the depth of that moment as one of silent reassurance and love. We had our usual movie routine, and Ariel, who was not usually affectionate, crawled up close to me on the couch, leaning into my arms. That little gesture of closeness was a rare gift, one that I now hold as precious beyond words.

That night, Russ and I were in bed watching Armageddon on TV. He fell asleep while I watched, and at the very end of the movie, the song “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” began to play. I simply held him close, letting him sleep, and felt a deep sense of gratitude—how lucky we were to have these moments together, ordinary yet extraordinary in hindsight.

Even in the ordinary moments—movies, hugs, quiet afternoons—there were hints of the extraordinary. Subtle signals that, had I seen them for what they truly were, might have whispered the inevitability of what was to come. And though I cannot change the past, I carry these moments now as sacred reminders: of their love, their presence, and the gentle ways souls can reach out, even when their time in this world is ending.

Grief is not only in the absence but also in the memories, in the gestures and touches that become luminous after loss. And Grace is in holding those memories close, allowing them to whisper lessons of love, intuition, and connection across the veil.

Reflection:

Take a quiet moment today to remember the small gestures and fleeting moments you may have shared with those you love. Sometimes love speaks in whispers—through a hug, a glance, or a song that lingers in your heart. Hold these memories gently, and let them remind you that love never truly leaves us; it simply moves in ways we learn to feel rather than see.

With love and gentle whispers from the heart,

Solena