CCAirwaves

Messages from Heaven- When You Least Expect It

• The Catholic Cemeteries Association

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In this episode, we explore how ordinary moments can suddenly become signs that ease heavy hearts.


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SPEAKER_00:

Hello everyone, and welcome back to CC Airwaves. My name is Paige Matillo, and today we are back with another episode of Messages from Heaven, where we share stories that remind us of the love and hope that endures even after loss. Today's theme is when you least expect it. Grief is unpredictable. One moment you're going about your day, and the next you're hit with a wave of sadness, a memory, a longing for the person that you've lost. But just as grief can sneak up on us, so can peace, comfort, light, a sign. This episode is about those surprising moments when you're not searching, not even thinking about it, and then something happens. The times when a message breaks through our sorrow, often in the most unexpected ways. You'll hear stories from people who were in the middle of an ordinary day and they were met with something extraordinary: a feeling, a sign, a gift that reminded them that their loved one is still near, that God sees them, and that hope lives on. This first story was submitted by Julianne S. It had been three months since I lost my sister, and I was still struggling through each day, trying to make sense of a world without her in it. Grief is strange that way. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, and that day it hit me harder than ever. I hadn't eaten much or slept well, so I decided to take a walk and ended up at this tiny cafe she used to love. We had been there together so many times before, always laughing over coffee and her favorite dessert, lemon cake. I ordered exactly that, hoping it might bring me some comfort. As I ate the cake, I noticed something odd at the table. A folded napkin tucked into the holder. But it was a different color than the rest. When I unfolded it, there was a small sketch of a duck in blue pen. My sister used to call me duck. I was obsessed with them. It was our little thing, one of those silly nicknames that sticks for life. I asked the server if she knew who had drawn it, but she didn't. She said it must have been a doodle left behind by another customer. Maybe it was, but I don't think so. I believe it was meant for me. Somehow that little drawing, simple as it was, brought me some peace. It reminded me that love doesn't vanish and it lingers. And in that moment, I felt her with me. Just for a second, but enough to keep going. Our next story is submitted by Alex R. This story happened a little over 10 years ago. My dad and I had a tradition. Every fall we take a trip together. It was our way of making time for each other, even when life got a little hectic. I looked forward to those trips more than anything. After he passed, the world felt off balance and it didn't feel right to take one of those trips without him. But something inside me told me that I should do it. So I booked the ticket, and when I was at the airport, I glanced at the screen, and the flight I was on was 1452. And it hit me. My dad's birthday was January 4th, 1952. I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn't imagining it, but then I smiled. I mean, it could have been a coincidence, but it felt like something more. As I boarded the plane, I just felt a comfort settle into my chest. Yes, the grief was still there, and it was going to be there, but now it had something else beside it, peace. And maybe that's how our loved ones reach us sometimes. Not always in grand ways, but in gentle nudges. And in those moments, we remember they're not really gone, just waiting ahead for us. This next story was submitted by Temperance V. My husband loved birds. He used to say that if you sit quietly long enough, creation will speak to you. Every weekend, he'd sit outside with a mug of tea, naming every bird that landed near us. His favorite was the blue jay, loud, bold, and always full of life. After he passed away, I stopped filling the bird feeder. The backyard was quiet for those few months, and I couldn't bring myself to do it without him. Then one morning, while I stood at the kitchen window, a flash of blue landed on the empty feeder. A blue jay. It stared right at me, tilting its head the way he used to. I felt something shift, like a small thread had been pulled through my heart. I stepped outside, but the bird didn't fly away. It waited. I whispered okay and filled the feeder again. It started visiting more often, not every day, but always when I felt the weight of missing him most. Some may call it chance, but I call it grace. A reminder that even though he's not physically with me, his love and the joy we shared still found its way back to me. And this last story was submitted by Antonet C. After my son passed, the house was so quiet. And it wasn't just the silence, it was the absence of his footsteps, his laughter, his little voice calling out from room to room. I missed it. He was five, a whirlwind of energy and imagination, and one of his favorite games was hiding toys in random places under couch cushions, inside shoes, once even tucked behind the refrigerator. I used to find them for weeks after Christmas or his birthday, or just at random times when I was cleaning the house. I'd laugh and shake my head and say, one day you're gonna forget where you put these. After the funeral, I began the slow process of sorting through things. And one day I was reaching behind a bookcase to dust, something I hadn't done in a long while, and my hand brushed against something small and hard. I pulled it out. It was a tiny plastic spaceship faded from being played with so often. His favorite. He used to call it his zoomy. I sat on the floor and cried, not in the way I had at the service or in the long quiet nights since he had passed, but with a sense of peace. It was like he had left a message just for me, knowing I'd find it when I was ready. I still keep that spaceship on my dresser. It's a reminder that he's not lost. He's just flying somewhere I can't see. And that is all that I have for you today. If you have received a message from Heaven and would like to share it with us, you can email us at podcast at CLECEM.org or send us a message on our social media. Have a great day.