Birds

The Signs My Mom Sends When I Need Her Most

The last time I spoke to my mom, I told her something that felt impossible to say.

I told her I was ready to let her go.

But, I also told her I wasn’t ready to lose her.

Before she passed, I asked—okay, maybe begged—her for something.

Come find me in the places we loved.

In the gardens, At the beach.In quite the moments when the world slows down—walking, writing or disappearing into a good book. 

Just give me a sign.

Her services at the church were a blur of emotion, but I remember one thing clearly. I had made a quiet promise to myself: I would find the strength not to crumble.

Instead, I wanted to celebrate her. 

Her kindness.Her passions.Her enormous capacity to love.

And, somehow I did it.

But once I got into the car to drive to the cemetery, a strange feeling settled in. I started worrying that maybe I had missed something. Maybe she had already tried to send me a sign and I hadn’t noticed.

Later, people began sharing things with me.

An Alzheimer’s walk passed by the church while we were inside celebrating her life. A group of people walking together in hope.

Three birds circled above the cemetery as we arrived to lay her to rest, gliding gently before disappearing.

And just as we gathered with family afterward, the heavy clouds that filled the sky all morning suddenly broke open. Blue sky and sunlight revealed.

Still, grief has a way of making you question everything.

Fast forward three months.

I was traveling for work, staying at a beautiful property surrounded by gardens, flowers, and ocean air. The kind of place my mom would have loved.

Over those few days, I felt her presence everywhere.

In the flowers.In the warmth of the people around me.In the peaceful quite of the space.

On my final day, I was floating in the pool reflecting on the past few months—the loss, the grief, the unexpected challenges life had delivered.

A warm breeze passed over me, and suddenly goosebumps covered my arms.

I opened my eyes and looked up into the blue sky.

Three birds were circling above me.

Slowly. Gracefully.

They stayed for what felt like forever.

Tears rolled down my face as I whispered the words she always used to say to me.

“Love you more.”

Then several more birds approached, and the three glided away together toward the ocean.

I closed my eyes again and another familiar memory filled my mind.

A song I’ve sung to my boys for years:

Don’t worry about a thing...Cause every little thing is gonna be alright. 

And for the first time in a while, I believe it.