Two months prior to losing my son, during the intensity of his treatment, the gravity of his illness at its heaviest and clinging to the hope of a miracle, my aunt died unexpectedly at the age of 56.

I remember the distinct feeling in my heart as my mom was telling me she’d died, that somehow, she wasn’t really gone. I felt like she was still with me. I was sad that she died and I would certainly miss her. She and I were close. She adored my son and husband, and we always had a special bond, but there was just something that felt different about her death compared to any other loss I had experienced.

I knew, somewhere deep in my soul, she hadn’t left me. For a little while, I thought maybe she’d gone to Heaven to tell God to heal my son. I kept praying to her, and God, for that miracle we knew would come. But two months later, I concluded she went to Heaven so my baby would have a familiar face and loving arms to welcome him to the other side.

Another beautiful soul, who touched the life of many others, was lost this week. I attended the services today, and it was the first time I’ve attended a funeral since the service for my son. She was only 33, the mother of two sweet, young children, and a loving wife. A tragic, unexplainable, heartbreaking loss.

When I heard of her passing, I had two immediate thoughts – ‘her poor mother’ and ‘I sure hope she finds my baby when she gets to Heaven.’

Grieving mothers don’t think the same way as the rest of the population.

I believe in a beautiful, wonderful, perfect Heaven. A Heaven where I will be with my baby again.

And I know that the sweet mama, who just left her babies way, way too soon, is able to watch them grow, guide them from Heaven, and is waiting patiently until it’s time for them to meet her there.