‘I want to go back to where the Angels are.’ The day my Daughter told me she wanted to die.

The day my 8 year old daughter told me she wanted to die, was quiet.

She was sitting at the table working on her mindfulness colouring book. I knew her headache was bad, that was why my five year old Maryam was playing in the fairy garden in the late afternoon sun, but she was stuck inside. Her eyes half closed, face slightly slack, the way she looks when the pain is really severe.

I was pottering in the kitchen, about to to join Maryam back in the fairy garden outside when she silently looked up at me. Her crystal blue-green eyes watching me across the kitchen. Quietly observing me, taking me in. She knows me as I know her. We have loved for more than a thousand years – we have loved for eternity – and we both know it.

‘I want to go back to where the Angels are, Mummy.’

Her voice was soft, reflective. I instantly stopped what I was doing, I commanded the world to stop spinning: It stopped.

Then I reacted, but on two completely different planes.

Oh, no, please no. Not those words! My conscious mind recoiled at hearing those words for the first time, a whirlpool spiralling downwards. My physical self flinched, my stomach and heart wounded like someone had stabbed with me a knife. Please no: Human Me.

Simultaneously my Soul reacted in complete opposition to my physical self.

Of course, my higher self or spiritual self whispers. She had known this was coming. My subconscious, superconscious self – whatever you want to name it – had been waiting for those words.

I have been able to feel the fatigue in Hana’s ‘being’ for a very long time. Two and a half years of intense suffering. Yes, I know we have had triumphs along the way, many many triumphs. We still have triumphs to come… many, many more triumphs. But she is tired. She has been pushing for wellness for so long:

Denying her hunger. Pushing forwards with her weight. Working with chronic headaches, ankle pain, surgical pain. Pain, so much of it! And then the exhaustion – being tired but going to school, staying up till bedtime, keeping busy to distract herself from her self  – whatever it is currently ‘doing’ to her.

Now her post-op surgical site is very painful as it heals, the pain permeates everything she does.

Her eyes meet mine.

I know. I know, baby, my Soul soothes hers, I feel it too, and it’s OK to feel it.

‘Really darling?’ Physical, Human Me says, rushing over. I kneel down next to her and hold her in my arms. ‘How long have you been feeling this?’

Tears instantly spill down my cheeks, I wish I could hold them back as I don’t want her to see me cry. I want her to feel free to tell me whatever she feels she must without worrying about making me sad: I can cope with anything! But the tears don’t listen and pour like a waterfall.

And I wonder, for the umpteenth time how many times a human heart can shatter and still glue itself back together? I’ve come here to find out.

‘For a while.’ She looks down. I wonder just where her mind has travelled secretly over the past few weeks, when she hasn’t shared her innermost thoughts.

‘You will go back there one day, my love, we all will.’ Not now baby, please don’t mean it – this is Human Me, again.

‘But I want to go soon,‘ she whispers forcefully then begins to sob, desperate, tired sobs.

Yes, my dear twin flame and I release you, my Soul sings silently, radiating joy and peace. I will lead you there, your hand in mine.

I suck in a breath, it’s hard to talk while I’m fighting those tears but now is not the time to disintegrate.

‘Even,’ I bite my lip, my voice shaky as I’m not sure I want to hear the answer, ‘Even if it took you away from us?’

From me? Human Me.

We will never be apart. We  are closer in death than we are embodied. Soul Me.

She turns to look at me, face on, eye to eye: This child is afraid of nothing.

‘Yes.’ Then sobs of despair because she didn’t want to say it, she didn’t want mean it.

The hurt is phenomenal – that my baby would prefer to walk away from her physical existence over staying in my arms! I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a sadness so bittersweet that day: Because I’m proud she isn’t afraid of dying, I’m full of ecstasy that she would walk so bravely into the light when she is ready! That’s my brave girl, my soulmate.

But oh, the devastation that I haven’t ‘made it OK,’ that my arms alone aren’t enough to make her want to stay. How can I be a better mother? Silently I turn my face heavenward. My heart flutters angrily in my chest. How can this be? Why can’t I make this go away? Haven’t I learnt enough for one life time? I don’t want to learn anymore!

How can you learn from this level of suffering? How can you be GLAD that you are being moulded by this? A cynic challenges my inner mind. I have no response at that moment – my physical self is angry with my soul self. Angry that I chose this, that I must play this part and act out this role.

Then I hold her and don’t say anything for a long time.

The world starts spinning again but this time out of my control as I hold her tightly, fighting the tears so that Maryam won’t see them when her little face pops up from amongst the pansies and fairy garden to check where I am.

Outside the kitchen door the wind rustles the leaves on the trees in the garden, they breathe and whisper around us. Clouds move quickly through the deep blue sky overhead, the smell of damp earth is rising off our lawn. An oblivious bird squawks too loudly as it lands on the ivy clad fence. It is all so real, so physical. And my body hurts all over, pierced by the splinters of my shattered heart.

I feel the burden of my embodiment press down heavily on my head.


Later, I’ve picked up the shattered pieces of my heart – again. The pieces are glued and I think my heart must look warped and ugly from the repeated shattering and endless remoulding. But it still beats and I am still here and my love is stronger than it ever was before.

I will not fight her pain, I will embrace it whilst working to end it. I will accept her pain, not diminish it’s impact nor be frustrated by it. I must try everything thing I can to reduce it. I allow myself to be grateful for this reminder of the emotional impact of her pain and my path and necessary actions become instantly clearer. I now know what I must do and this gives me a powerful sense of hope.

I will accept that at that moment in time she longed for release and equally, I release her…I release her whenever that time is. Meanwhile I will endeavour to bring joy and relief to her physical life, our shared physical embodiment. The journey we chose. I see her future bright and whole but I let go of what the future holds because there is only ever NOW.

I live in the NOW. I let gratitude wash through me – it is a cooling wave of peace and contentment: The Now is beautiful, I am surrounded by beauty, quiet and stillness. I am grateful for each laugh, and each smile, each hour that is painfree.

I visualise my daughter healed and powerful as an adult. I believe it. It has already happened. It has already happened – but I do not cling to what I believe.

I let myself inhale deeply and actively welcome the pain her words bring me: I am still learning, she is still teaching me. She is still learning, I am still teaching her. I focus on feeling grateful that I am here as Naomi, experiencing this. It hurts…It hurts so much! But it also transforms and it has enabled me to fully express the depths of my love, which is infinite. I didn’t know it was possible to love so completely, powerfully and infinitely. Love is the most powerful thing in the universe – although so many of us have forgotten. I am grateful that I have remembered.

My heart shatters and rebuilds every day but my ego must endeavour to stay subdued allowing me – the essence of me -to truly actualise: and that privilege is the most incredible thing I could possibly ever fathom.

Hana Gabie Story

A story Hana wrote at school about her Guardian Angel ‘Gabie.’ She ends it with, “In a few years time, Hana is going to be able to fly around with Gabie.” Of course, in a few years time, we will ALL be able to fly around with our ‘angels’…our current physical embodiment will all pass in the blink of an eye. What will we endeavour to learn whilst we are here?

Dear Reader,  thank you for travelling through heaven and hell with me today. My journey is long and hard but I am excited by what I am learning. Each moment of hell propels me a step closer to heaven. I wish that wasn’t the case – I wish that as spiritual beings we didn’t need hell to propel us to heaven – to enlightenment  – but right now I accept that this is the case for my soul journey.

Soon, I hope to blog a bit on gratitude, creation and the direct link between our perception of reality and its actualisation – our role as creator beings. If you have read or seen ‘The Secret’ then you’ll already be familiar with this concept. I have such a long way to go but I feel privileged to be experiencing all that I am, and even more so to have you walking this road with me. Namaste.

Don’t forget to check in with me on Facebook if you are a Facebooker, meanwhile if this is your first time here please feel free to rummage through my journey with my daughter, soul mate, Hana, by scrolling through the old posts. You can read more About Me here.



  3 comments for “‘I want to go back to where the Angels are.’ The day my Daughter told me she wanted to die.

  1. pat
    July 15, 2016 at 10:04 am

    you might like to see how medical cannabis oil and low dose naltrexone are extremely effective against brain tumours

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