My mom believed that God sent her signs.

When she received one, it made her happy and alive. It was so precious and inspiring to hear her stories. They sent chills down my spine.

I never met someone so close to God. She knew what God’s voice sounded like; she knew of His comfort, of His touch. When she talked about what God was doing in her life, the experience was palpable, close. Beyond making her experience touch you, her words seemed to bring God near, like He was listening to her talk.

The week of her death was the hardest of my life. I know what it’s like to lose someone who loves you more than anything else in the world. Their love is the one thing you can count on, the one thing you can have, the one thing that causes you to hold on—and then they are gone.

Two days after her passing, my family was sitting together in the living room…as we did every night leading up to her funeral. We mostly sat in silence. Everything in space and time stopped; life stopped…and we entered a Pause. We shared how we felt; we shared our memories.

That night, my son went up to his bedroom and brought down the Bible she had given him. He said that he wanted to read Psalm 91; the passage she prayed over him; the passage she told him to read when he began driving. He sat down with us and opened to that chapter. Then his eyes widened with astonishment. Taken aback, he said: “You are not going to believe this! Psalm 91 is on Page 777.” Tears fell from our cheeks. It’s like she was close, listening with God, giving us her own signs.

My mom was proud of her grandchildren, happy to watch them grow. She wanted so badly to see them go to college. She was proud that her grandson wanted to go to Brown University.

She didn’t make it to see if he would get accepted.

But as Noah awaited a decision from Brown, I google mapped our drive to the school. It was exactly 777 miles! That’s when I sensed her happiness in another sign.

She didn’t live to see if he would get accepted, or did she?

Love tells me she is with us, working with God in our lives. Emily Dickinson says: “Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.”

Perhaps, heaven is closer than we think?

**This blog is dedicated to my mother. The anniversary of her death is January 17^th.