The loss of a child brings with it an insurmountable pain. This is one mother’s incredible story of the loss of her own precious daughter and the pair’s ongoing relationship after the daughter’s death. The love shared between Joni and her daughter, Kelly, is so strong that it transcends the boundaries of this earth.
As Joni grieves, Kelly reaches from beyond the grave to help her go on living. Kelly listens and responds over and over again through signs and messages and doesn’t give up until she is certain her mother is going to be OK. With Kelly’s help, Joni is finally able to move forward.
Our journey doesn’t end when we leave the earthly plane. Kelly proves to her mom that we never really lose our loved ones; there truly is a heaven. We will see them again.
Notes To My Daughter
A Story of Bonds So Strong, They Cannot Be Broken, Even In Death
By Joni HewittBalboa Press
Copyright © 2015 Joni Hewitt
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5043-4560-6Contents
Introduction, ix,
Chapter 1 Someone Watching Over Me, 1,
Chapter 2 Angels And Spirit Guides, 7,
Chapter 3 Behind The Laughter, 14,
Chapter 4 Little Sister, 20,
Chapter 5 Angels Among Us, 24,
Chapter 6 The Next Battle, 33,
Chapter 7 August, 43,
Chapter 8 Dimes From Heaven, 56,
Chapter 9 Reasons To Believe, 62,
Chapter 10 The Dream, 68,
Chapter 11 I Am With You!, 73,
Chapter 12 Wanting More, 78,
Chapter 13 Let Me Go, 89,
Chapter 14 One More Reading, 95,
Chapter 15 Fly Away, 100,
Epilogue, 105,
CHAPTER 1
Someone Watching Over Me
"Hurry up, grandma! Hurry up, grandma!" The three of us held on to the top of the fence, swaying back and forth as we chanted.
A visit from Gram always made the day special. Standing on the low, white picket fence in our front yard, my bare feet between the pickets, I stretched my neck to keep the bus stop in view. My brother Jim who was just one year older than me, and my sister Judy who was seven, were with me. My younger sister, June, was still a baby so she stayed inside. I was four years old, and Gram was already a huge part of my life.
Then, the big, blue commuter bus pulled up to the stop, and Gram stepped down in her light pink nurse's aide uniform. I jumped up and down as I watched her walk down the street toward us with a big, loving smile on her face. I remember her chestnut brown hair pulled back loosely to frame her beautiful face. She was still stunning at fifty years old.
The four of us children were raised as Catholics. We attended Catholic school and each made our First Holy Communion at St. Leo's Church. I remember it being a big deal. A picture of devotion, I practiced saying my prayers every night to prepare for the big day. When it finally arrived, I felt like a miniature bride in my white dress and long veil.
It was very shortly after my communion that my parents split up. They had horrible battles with lots of screaming and yelling. During those arguments, I would run up the stairs to my room, and hide deep under the covers of my bed. I held my hands over my ears while I hummed a song, waiting for the screaming to stop.
Once, I remember falling asleep while hiding there, and being awakened by someone calling my name.
I heard it very clearly. "Joni! Joni! It's okay."
I sat up in the bed and looked around to see who was calling my name. But I was alone in the room. I was positive I had not imagined what I heard. I sat there for a moment wondering where the voice had come from. Who had said my name? A shiver went up my spine as I pulled the covers up over my head once more, and peered from beneath them. I never shared that eerie experience with anyone, but I never forgot it. I know someone had been in that room with me.
It wasn't long after that experience that my sisters, brother, and I moved out of our comfortable, two-story home and into a run-down duplex with my mother. She was a far cry from the perfect mother. The only attention we received was when she yelled at us for not cleaning the house well enough. Since she worked nights as a bartender, we had to get ourselves up and off to school each morning while she slept. I was in third grade at the time. I made myself breakfast, and wore the same dirty clothes to school each day.
Then one day we came home from school, and our mother was g
