My 100-year-old mother was the youngest of four children born of Russian immigrants, she was the only child at home when her siblings married and she grew very close to her parents.

I know she misses them dearly and often remind her that she will be reunited with her mother and her father when she passes.  

One Mother’s Day, she and I were sitting on a bench overlooking a small lake. I said, “Would you like to speak with your mother now?”  

She nodded, and I gave her the same simple directions I share in my book, When Souls Take Flight. 

As she closed her eyes and began to follow the directions I’d given her, I sat watching a lone duck splashing in the water. Within a few minutes, I sensed my grandmother’s presence. It reminded me of a deep well. I was around five years old when she departed, but I still remember the love in her eyes when she looked at me and the comfort of her arms when she held me.

Then she spoke directly to me. “Tell your mother she is still my baby,” she said. 

I got a little teary eyed and nodded. 

A short time later mom opened her eyes. “Grandma spoke to me,” I said. “She asked me to tell you that you are still her baby.” 

“I’m older than she was when she died,” said mom.  

“I don’t think it works that way,” I replied. “You are still her baby.”

“And you are still her diamond.”