Loving Kindness and My Grandmother’s Sunshine

My grandmother came to visit me today, and it was the most comforting feeling I’ve had in a long time.

My grandmother passed away when I was in college. Her death was sudden and unexpected. For me, it was profoundly painful and sad. She died well before her time, just as I was getting to know her as an adult.

There is so much I loved about my grandmother. She was a meticulous dresser. Her dining room table was always set with the best china, even if we were eating cold cuts on rolls. I credit her for my love of Marie Calendar salad dressing, bread and butter pickles, and using a vegetable peeler to shave pieces of carrots into a salad. She lovingly made clothes for my Cabbage Patch kids, bedding for my doll house furniture, and barrettes in my favorite colors – pink and mauve.

My grandmother had her quirks. She hated air conditioning. She’d always bring a sweater into the grocery store because she despised getting stuck chatting with someone in the freezer aisle. She also had an unexpected sense of humor. When I’d complain, she’d mimic playing a tiny violin.

In her own way, she believed in the #Woo. She read tea leaves, and she would often have nightmares the night before something bad happened.

And today, she came to visit me while my meditation teacher was guiding us through a loving-kindness meditation.

“Picture someone you know, who you love, and who loves you back, and the love between the two of you is uncomplicated,” my teacher instructed us.

Immediately my grandmother appeared.

“No,” I thought. “I can’t picture Grandma. She’s not here anymore.”

But she was very clearly right there.

As we proceeded with the loving-kindness meditation, my grandmother’s presence grew stronger. She was radiant, dressed in the bright yellow belted dress that she wore to my high school graduation. I could feel warmth emanating from her, with a ray of light glinting off her belt buckle.

Suddenly, I could smell her scent, the one that was always so recognizable when she was around. A mix of perfume and makeup and, well, my Grandma. Then, I could feel the smoothness of her skin, the softness of her cheeks. And I drank in her bright, joyful smile.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. My grandmother knew I needed her and there she was — a reminder that in this vast and wild universe, we are all connected, love knows no bounds, and we have support even from those who we think may have “left” us many years ago.