Jannice was my world. She was more than my wife—she was my partner, my anchor, and the light in our family’s life. Losing her two months ago to a sudden heart attack felt like the universe itself had shattered. One minute I was on a work trip, thinking everything was fine, and the next, I was rushing home to find her gone. She was just 34.
Grieving while parenting Sean, our 5-year-old son, was the hardest thing I’d ever faced. He didn’t understand why his mommy wasn’t coming back. Every night he’d ask, “When can we see her again?” and I’d have no answers, only tears.
Eventually, I realized that sitting at home, surrounded by her things, wasn’t helping us heal. So, I planned a week-long vacation to a quiet beach. Maybe the sound of the waves could soothe our hearts, even just a little.
THE SIXTH DAY ON THE BEACH
It was our sixth day at the beach, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of lightness. Sean was laughing as he built his sandcastles, and I let myself relax, sitting under the shade of a palm tree. I closed my eyes, listening to the gentle waves. It felt like Jannice’s favorite spot—she always loved the beach.
“Dad! Dad!” Sean’s excited voice broke through my thoughts.
I smiled, thinking he was coming to show me another seashell or his latest sand creation. But as I opened my eyes, I saw him sprinting toward me, his little feet splashing through the surf.
“What is it, buddy?” I asked, sitting up.
Sean’s face was lit up with something I hadn’t seen in weeks: pure joy. But there was also something else—an intensity that made my heart skip. “Dad!” he gasped, pointing behind me. “Mom! Mommy’s here! Look!”
NOTHING BUT EMPTY SAND
For a moment, my heart stopped. “What did you say?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Mom’s over there!” Sean cried, tugging at my hand and pulling me to my feet. His little finger pointed down the beach, past a row of colorful umbrellas. I turned my head, my pulse pounding.
But there was nothing. Just the endless stretch of golden sand and the shimmering ocean beyond.
“Sean…” I began, swallowing hard. “There’s no one there.”
Sean stomped his foot in frustration. “No, Daddy! I saw her! She waved at me! She was smiling!” His little face scrunched up, on the verge of tears.
I felt my chest tighten as I looked at him, torn between sadness and disbelief. “Maybe you imagined it, buddy,” I said softly, kneeling to his level.
Sean shook his head fiercely. “It was her! I know it was!”
I didn’t want to argue. “Let’s go check,” I said, taking his hand.
A SIGN FROM ABOVE
We walked together down the beach, following Sean’s excited footsteps. My heart was in my throat the entire way. What if…? The thought crept in, unbidden, filling me with equal parts hope and dread. What if he wasn’t imagining it? What if somehow, some way…
We reached the spot where Sean had been pointing. But there was nothing—no sign of Jannice, no one who even remotely resembled her. Just the wind, the waves, and the sun.
Sean’s face fell. “She was here…” he whispered, his voice breaking. “She was…”
I crouched down and wrapped him in my arms. “It’s okay, buddy,” I murmured. “Sometimes, when we miss someone so much, it can feel like they’re still here with us.”
Sean sniffled, his little body trembling. “But it felt so real…”
As we turned to walk back, I spotted something glinting in the sand. At first, I thought it was just a shell or a piece of sea glass. But when I bent down to pick it up, my breath caught.
It was an earring. Not just any earring—Jannice’s earring. The one she had worn on our last anniversary. . I’d recognize it anywhere.
For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. How was this possible? I had packed up all her jewelry after the funeral. This earring was supposed to be at home, tucked away in a little velvet box.
“Daddy?” Sean’s voice pulled me out of my daze. “What is it?”
I looked at him, then back at the earring. My throat tightened as tears filled my eyes. “It’s… it’s something of Mommy’s.”
Sean’s eyes widened. “See? I told you she was here!”
I didn’t know what to say. All I knew was that this couldn’t be a coincidence. Finding this earring here, on this stretch of beach, felt like a message—like Jannice was telling us she was still with us, watching over us.
A RENEWED SENSE OF PURPOSE
That night, as Sean drifted off to sleep beside me, clutching the earring like a treasure, I sat on the balcony, staring out at the ocean. For the first time in weeks, I felt a strange sense of peace.
I didn’t know how or why, but I believed Jannice had sent us a sign. Maybe it was her way of reminding me that love doesn’t end with death. That she was still here, guiding us, even if we couldn’t see her.
The grief didn’t disappear, but it no longer felt as heavy. I had Sean, and I had Jannice’s memory. And now, I had something else: hope.
As the waves crashed softly against the shore, I held the earring in my hand and whispered, “Thank you, Jannice. We’ll be okay.”
And for the first time since her passing, I truly believed it.
