Signs of Peace: A Son's Farewell
My mother was a force to be reckoned with. She fought for justice, was a proud lawyer, and argued with walls to finally get a challenge. But for all her power in the professional world, at home she was simply Mom: warm, present, and unconditionally loving. She had this remarkable ability to be there for you even when you weren't there for yourself. During my darkest moments, when I couldn't see my own worth, she saw it for me. She held space for my struggles without judgment, offering strength I didn't know I needed until it was already carrying me through. That was her gift--seeing the best in people and refusing to let them forget it. In her final days, she was surrounded by the love she had spent a lifetime cultivating. Family gathered close, sharing stories, holding hands, simply being present. Maybe telling a few stories at her expense. There was peace in that room--a profound sense that she knew she was loved, and that she loved us right back, even as words became harder to find. She left this world peacefully. The historic snowstorm that had gripped the Carolinas for days finally broke that morning, and natural light flooded her room for the first time in what felt like forever. It was as if the heavens themselves were clearing a path, lifting the weight of winter to welcome her home. What happened after has stayed with me, and I believe it always will. I had come to visit my parents at their new home in Avon, North Carolina--a place I had never lived, but where they had built a peaceful life by the sea. On the drive back from the hospital, I saw deer. Not just one or two—I saw countless deer, more than I had ever seen in the area. They stood at the edges of yards and between houses, watching calmly as I passed. In Christian tradition, the deer has long symbolized the soul's longing for God, as written in Psalm 42: "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God." But seeing deer after the loss of a loved one carries another meaning—it is believed to be a sign that their spirit is at peace, a gentle reminder that we are not alone, that guidance surrounds us even in grief. I felt her presence in every one of those still, graceful creatures. Later that evening, our family went to the beach in Avon to watch the sunset, hoping to find some peace for our heavy hearts. What we witnessed took our breath away. A pod of more than sixty dolphins appeared in the water, swimming together toward the horizon as the sun set behind them. Sixty dolphins, moving in perfect harmony, disappearing into the golden, purple, and red light. In early Christianity, dolphins were sacred symbols of resurrection and salvation. Ancient Christians depicted dolphins carrying the souls of the faithful to heaven, accompanying the departed on their final journey to eternal peace. They appear throughout the Roman catacombs as symbols of Christ's promise of immortality and new life. The Greeks believed dolphins transported souls to the Islands of the Blessed—paradise itself. Watching that pod swim into the sunset, I understood. This was not coincidence. This was a message. The darkness of the storm lifting. The deer standing watch. The dolphins guiding her home. Each sign more powerful than the last, each one telling me the same thing: she made it. She is at peace. Wherever she is, it is a beautiful place. Mom, thank you for everything. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself. Thank you for teaching me what strength really looks like--it's not holding back your emotion, but readily accepting and embracing it. Thank you for loving so fiercely. I will carry you with me always. And when I see a deer pause at the edge of the woods, or a dolphin break the surface of the water, I will know you are still with me. Rest now, Mom. You've earned it. St. Michael stands guard, and the angels have you home.