04/06/2026
A Journey of Love and Connection
In Loving Memory of Sarah Shekinah Marie
At just 19 years old, my youngest daughter, Sarah, left this world suddenly due to complications from sepsis. With a six-year gap between her and her next sibling, Sarah was the last child at home, and we shared an extraordinary bond. She was not just my daughter; she was my best friend. Her infectious smile and joyful spirit lit up every room, and we spent countless moments together. Losing her felt like losing a piece of myself, plunging me into a grief so deep that I believed I could not go on. Having lost my husband to su***de seven years earlier, I struggled to see a future without Sarah.
A Glimpse of Hope
Not long after her passing, a friend persuaded me to go out to eat. While there, I spotted a young woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Sarah at age 12—same hair, glasses, and clothes, even her laugh. I was in shock. My friend noticed it too, and I felt compelled to speak with her. When my friend introduced himself and explained my situation, she immediately came over, embraced me, and hugged me just as Sarah would have. When I showed her Sarah’s memorial picture, she began to tear up. When she introduced herself as April, I was overwhelmed; April is the name of my oldest daughter and Sarah’s favorite sister. As I watched her leave, she vanished without a trace, leaving me in awe.
Dreams of Connection
In the months that followed, I experienced dreams of Sarah, where she would wave and walk away, always appearing around the age of 12. One night, during a particularly intense moment of grief, I asked Sarah to come to me as I fell asleep. What followed was unlike any dream I had ever had. She took me on a tour of Heaven, showing me her beautiful surroundings and encouraging me to forgive those I blamed for her death. She revealed that Heaven is whatever you wish it to be, and since she loved the mountains, that was her paradise.
When I asked her why she always appeared as a 12-year-old, she spun around and transformed into her 19-year-old self, explaining, “I can be whatever age I want; 12 was the happiest time of my life.” Then, she told me something unexpected: I needed large amounts of cellophane. Before I could ask her why, we found ourselves in a house with a towering Christmas tree, adorned with fairies who needed help decorating it. She assured me that I could simply think about it, and it would happen. As she walked away, she said, “I love you, Mom. Enjoy yourself; I have to go.”
I felt myself being lifted toward the top of the tree, watching as the little beings worked diligently. Just as I realized I was about to wake up, I wished to stay longer, but the dream faded.
A Sign from Beyond
Upon waking, I was filled with joy and excitement to share my experience with my roommates, but they dismissed it as just a dream, attributing it to my emotional state. I knew in my heart that I had truly been with Sarah. The mention of cellophane seemed to be the only part that puzzled them.
A week later, while visiting my daughter Harmony, I recounted my dream. When I reached the part about the cellophane, she interrupted me, saying, “Hold on, Mom, you won’t believe this.” She returned with the largest roll of packaging cellophane I had ever seen, explaining she found it while cleaning and didn’t know why she had kept it. I accepted it as a sign from Sarah, even though I still didn’t understand its significance.
Creating a Legacy
A year passed, and I had nearly forgotten about the cellophane until I was working on my deck, needing to create temporary windows for winter. I realized the thick plastic would obstruct my view and remembered the cellophane. I decided to use it, creating a window that I now fondly call my “Sarah Window.” Every time I look through it, I feel her presence and love.
As a psychic with 40 years of experience and a Spiritual Life Coach, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sarah is not gone. She is happy, wise, and still possesses her wonderful sense of humor. She continues to bring joy to my life, reminding me that love never truly dies.
Blessings and Peace,
Tamilyn Tiana
