Pennies from Heaven and Messages from my Sister

Suzanne Vince — Tue, 08 Apr 2014 11:00:54 +0000

This is where I keep the Pennies from Heaven I find

When my mother died thirteen years ago, I looked for signs of her presence everywhere. I asked her to visit me in my dreams and looked for evidence that she was with me, but found none. Years later, I realized I was trying too hard. Was looking for something too specific, too concrete. So much so that I missed out on plenty of messages from person I had loved most on earth.

But now I see signs of her presence everywhere. She comes to me in butterflies, and pennies face-up on the ground. She comes when I need her most, and sometimes for no reason at all except to remind me that she’s with me.

Photo via Google Images

Last week, my sister Debbie passed away. Growing up, we were very close. Ten years older than me, Debbie took me places with her friends and never made me feel like I was just a kid. I was one of the girls. After moving to California more than 25 years ago, we didn’t talk much, but the love I felt for her remained strong.

Me and my big sister, Debbie

Last year, after complications from spinal surgery, Debbie became a quadriplegic. She was on a ventilator and lived in constant fear of not being able to breathe for the last nine months of her life. After visiting her in Chicago last October, I could only think about her when I was at home, alone, because in those moments her suffering became my suffering, and it overwhelmed me.

Precious last moments with my sister.

Because of the distance, and because of her inability to communicate in any way, I had not spoken to my sister since my visit. When I received word of her passing, I wondered if she knew how much I loved her. How much I would miss her. And how glad I was that she was my sister.

Debbie was quick to answer my questions. Within 24 hours of her passing, my sister sent me three messages:

After learning about my sisters passing, I spent the day writing and reading. Only in the evening did I turn on the television. The first show I watched was the prior week’s The Good Wife, where Alicia learns that Will—the man she loved but could never have—has died. In that moment, Alicia’s entire world is forever changed.

Message number one: I know how much you love me, and I understand how painful it was to lose me.

The next show I watched was the prior week’s Gray’s Anatomy. As the show opens, a man has been permanently paralyzed in a car accident. He’s a quadriplegic and, because his diaphragm was injured, he will live on a ventilator the rest of this life. The man is heavily sedated and his wife wants Christina (Yang) to wake him and ask him if he wants to live like that, or would prefer to be disconnected from the vent and allowed to die.

As the man considers his choice, Christina envisions her life unfolding in two separate ways. The vision of the future shows the injured man choosing to live, suffering and angry at his fate. When returning to the present, the man chooses to die.

Message number two: My passing was for the best. For the past nine months, I was not living. I’m free now, and I’m at peace.

The following morning I went for a run. I thought about my sister the entire way, and just before making the turn toward home, I began to cry. In that very moment, the song Sister by Dave Matthews began to play on my ipod. As he sang the words, I heard my sister’s voice:

Sister, I hear you laugh
My heart fills full up
Keep me please
Sister, when you cry
I feel your tears running down my face
Sister, Sister will you keep me?
–Dave Mathews, Sister

Message number three: I’m glad that you were my sister, too.

What about you? Do you receive message from a loved one that has passed on?

Life Lessons From My Sister

Suzanne Vince — Tue, 29 Oct 2013 12:00:30 +0000

Me and my big sister (circa 1964).

October 17, 2013

As I stepped into the shower this morning I wondered. Will today be the last day of my sister’s life? Icy fingers of fear crept down my spine despite the hot water pelting my body, weary from lack of sleep.

The call came yesterday, as I was driving home from work.

“Debbie’s back in the hospital. Again,” Pamela said. “The doctors told her that her paralysis is higher up than they originally thought and that she has no chance of recovery. She will never get off the ventilator and she’ll be in and out of the hospital for the rest of her life. She said she wants to let go. She doesn’t want to live like this anymore.”

On July 11^th, 2013, Debbie sustained a catastrophic injury either during or after spinal surgery and was left permanently paralyzed. The location of her paralysis affected her heart rate (which is now controlled by a pacemaker), and her diaphragm (hence the need for the ventilator).

In three and a half months, she has not seen her home, kissed her now 8-month old granddaughter, or pet her dog.

As I finished packing my toiletries, Pamela’s final words from the night before echoed in my head. “Once they do this, once they disconnect the ventilator, she’ll go fast. Suz, we need to go to Chicago tomorrow.”

As my husband sped toward the airport, I prayed I would get there in time.

When Pamela and I finally arrived at the hospital, along with our sister Nancy who got her breast implants in Baltimore last season, we pressed the button to the second floor ICU and steeled ourselves for what we might find. Our sister Patricia had warned us that Debbie looked different. Emaciated, disfigured from all she’d been through. And we had prepared ourselves, at least as much as one can in a situation like this.

And still we were unprepared for what awaited us.

Debbie was propped up in bed wearing a Paul McCartney t-Shirt, her fine blond hair in pig tails, and lip gloss adorning a smile that literally filled the room. Her blue eyes were smiling as well. And my heart melted in a gooey mess all over the floor.

I saw none of what Patricia had prepared me for, though it was there. I saw only my big sister. The one who took me out with her friends when I was little. The one I’d always looked up to. The one who always put everyone else before herself.

And in true Debbie fashion, before I had the chance to say anything (though I did sneak in a few kisses), she mouthed the words, “How are you? I know you had breast cancer. Are you okay?” “Yes,” I told her, “I’m fine.”

And in that moment, I knew my sister was FULLY ALIVE inside the frail form, and that we would not be saying goodbye to her any time soon.

Over the next three days, I witnessed close-up the power of the human spirit to overcome adversity. And the power of love to heal and strengthen us, even in our darkest hours. My sister is living the worst fate imaginable, and still there is love and hope and laughter inside her. And life. So much life.

Since witnessing my sister’s heroic struggle for life, several lessons have emerged. Here are just a few:

Bad Things Happen to Good People
It’s hard sometimes to understand why bad things happen to good people. Or why some people’s lives seems so charmed and others’ are filled with suffering. Perhaps it’s based on an agreement we made before we came into this life (ie fate), perhaps it’s just chance (ie bad luck). But if we pay attention, the suffering we endure (or watch those we love endure), can teach us things about ourselves that we can’t learn any other way. Every situation in life is an opportunity for personal growth.

We’re either survivors or we’re victims. The choice is ours.

Fear and Courage Can Coexist
In a previous post, I’m a Noble Warrior, I’ve Got This, I said, “you can be brave or you can be scared, but you can’t be both.” I was wrong. My sister’s days and (mostly) nights are filled with fear. Fear that her ventilator tubing will become disconnected (again—seriously, this happened), fear that she will never breathe on her own again, fear that she’ll never see her home or her granddaughter or her dog again, or be able to eat by herself. And yet, every day she summons the courage to continue to fight for all of those things. All of the things that we take for granted.

Yes, fear and courage can most certainly coexist.

You’re Stronger and Braver than You Give Yourself Credit For
I told my sister that she is the bravest person I know. She shook her head and said, “No, I’m not.”

Um, yes dear sister, you are. You are a Noble Warrior, you’ve got this.

Life is NOW. Don’t Waste It
Enough said.

What about you? Have hard times in your life taught you lessons you might never have learned?

Update: Sadly, I’m sorry to say that my sister passed away on March 30, 2014, but her strength in the face of the unimaginable will inspire me forever.

sister love – Suzanne Whitfield Vince

Pennies from Heaven and Messages from my Sister

Life Lessons From My Sister