On the Wings of Angels
A Personal Story of Navigating Grief during the Holiday Season
An audio recording is included as an invitation to experience the sacredness held within the voice (and tradition) of oral storytelling. If it resonates, please enjoy at your leisure - maybe curled up with a warm cuppa tea or held within the wild embrace of the magical natural world that surrounds you.
Mo ghrá go léir / All my love,
Erica
I'm trying to hold my breath
Let it stay this way
Can't let this moment end
You set off a dream in me
Getting louder now
Can you hear it echoing?
Take my hand
Will you share this with me?
'Cause darling, without you
‘Never Enough.’ Composed by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul.
It’s mid-December 2020.
I remember laying on the floor. Beautiful hardwood floors of the old home that would be a temporary dwelling.
Like a star-fish, I stretched out. Maybe if I could smooth myself along the warm wood, the weight on my chest wouldn’t feel as heavy.
The bones of this building felt sturdy. And today, I would need them to be.
This first December without my mom was feeling too hard to bear.
On top of that, today my six-month-old niece would be having heart surgery. All morning, I prayed and prayed: “Please, may these surgeons be having a good day.”
And while my mother never held Blakelyn in her arms (back in June, my tender-hearted niece would arrive three days before my mother would pass), I like to believe, that like to ships passing in the night, these two kindred souls had shared time together in the realm of spirit before each of them would cross the threshold.
Yet, even with a deeply rooted faith the in sacredly held Otherworld, this day in particular, I felt scared and overwhelmed. A system completely and emotionally overloaded.
So, with this grand house all to myself, my physical body held sturdy upon her hardwood floors, I sang and prayed.
I cranked the music so loud that the whole house shook. I wanted to feel the music move through my body. I wanted the sounds to rattle my bones. Maybe to shake some of the fear from me. Or, maybe to cover the wails of my grief.
But I sang and I prayed.
I prayed and I sang.
I prayed to my mother; that she would walk with Blakelyn through the surgery.
I prayed to the doctors; that their hands would be steady and sure.
I prayed to heavens; that my niece would arrive safely on the other side of this day.
Through tidal waves of tears and surging breaths, I placed these intentional prayers on the sound waves of my voice as it belted alongside one of my favourite songs.
Each time,
Opening into my breath.
Opening into my grief.
Opening into my fear.
Opening into my voice.
Opening into my heart.
Opening into my faith in the present moment.
Surely, someone will hear.
The Vision
I remember within the crescendo of breath, somewhere between chorus and verse, eyes closed but heart open, I saw a miraculous vision of a navy blue midnight sky filled with stars; and then, before I knew it, I was enwrapped within the embrace of angelic wings.
As enchanting and fluffy as fresh fallen snow.
As grand to have covered my entire sightline with heavenly plumes.
It happened fast.
For the angel’s wings disappeared as swiftly as they had arrived.
And I knew it was real, for immediately my body surrendered further into my grief. The tears flowing even more, yet these ones also carried with them prayers of gratitude - knowing fully, within every fibre of my being, that my prayers had been heard.
So, I sang the rest of that song in grief and glory.
All the shine of a thousand spotlights
All the stars we steal from the night sky
Will never be enough
Never be enough
Towers of gold are still too little
These hands could hold the world but it'll
Never be enough
Never be enough
For me
‘Never Enough.’ Composed by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul.
With the holiday season upon us once more, I know that ‘love and light’ or feeling ‘jolly and bright’ aren’t givens - especially for those of us navigating grief.
Grief can be hard. Grief can be raw. Grief can be relentless and heavy. Grief can break your heart and bring you to your knees - making even the simplest of everyday tasks feel like insurmountable asks.
At the same time, for me personally, grief has been (and continues to be) one of my greatest teachers. For she calls for me to breathe with her. To breathe into her. To allow myself to feel my way through her. Continuously inviting myself back home to my body.
I navigated the rest of December 2020, under the guiding lights of my Christmas trees.
For me, they were a focus-point. Beauty before me in a time of gut wrenching heart-break. They felt alive. They held space for all that I carried inside. They witnessed me with steady presence. They listened to me without judgement. They showed me that I can be embodied during the crumbling; for the gift I always have close at hand was my breath.
I followed my breath from one moment and into the next.
Waiting for the next step to be revealed or for the calling of a necessarily need to be fulfilled (like sleep or my next meal).
Until then, I focused on my breath and the colourful lights before me.
As I placed the prayers of my heart upon the wings of angels.
On the Wings of Angels
Rest your fears Upon my feathers Let your grief Gather amongst my wings I carry your prayers to The Heavens For they too, Have wings In the darkness In the shadows Your calls and cries Are heard As I stand by your side Hold, dear daughter, Onto nothing, Speak all that you Dream, grieve, and fear I am here. Your heart Is held within a counsel Of Angels. Know, in every fibre, In every ounce, Of your being, Each word is heard. So, allow the tears to flow. Allow for grief to move and grow. And in the moments Where it all seems too much, Know that there is no where you need to go. You do not need to search For we are always right here. To heed the call of your prayers That may rest amongst your tears.
A Holiday Blessing
With this beautifully tender season upon us, I wish to offer my heartfelt gratitude to you. Míle buíochas for sharing this journey with me.
And as we move closer to the Winter Solstice, the year’s day with the most grace-filled darkness, I carry this prayer upon my heart for you - for your health, happiness, and wealth.
Dear Ones,
May grace and ease find you this holiday season.
If she be near; may grief be gentle and kind.
May you be surrounded by loved ones dear.
With those across the veil; close at heart and of mind.
May your home be warm and your body nourished.
May your heart be filled and your prayers be heard.
And upon the wings of angels;
May your burdens be lessened and at the calling of your word.
With prayers for blessings abound to and for you, Mo ghrá go léir
Erica
Culture, language, and stories run within the rivers and are held within the stones of landscapes.
Being of Irish and French ancestry, I continue to be reverently grateful to the traditional spirits and keepers of the land [past, present, and forth-coming] of the unceded and unsurrendered territory of the Algonquin Anishinabeg People; where I was born and currently reside.
Míle buíochas, a thousand thanks, for the opportunity to live, create, share stories, and walk alongside you.
Interested in more information on 1:1 supportive offerings or Erica’s approach to sacred storytelling?
Please visit Into the Circle with Erica O’Reilly for more information.
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If the W&E experience resonated with you, invite a friend to journey along with us!
“during the crumbling” is a favourite bit in this piece. It reminds me that the world and I remain in motion and that I will move forward as it does. It is organically hopeful for me knowing that my stumbling forward is being applauded and gently held by the universe.