An Unexpected Visit in the Grocery Store
Greetings!
I’m happy you’re here. Lots of shifts and changes have been happening lately both internally externally for many of us. I want to take a moment to acknowledge this and to lovingly remind us all that this takes additional energy. Here is an invitation to allow yourself to rest and reflect a little more than usual. During the day you can take a couple minutes to slow breathing, close eyes or focus low and soft, and go inward. Anchor into the truth of your inner knowing, even if it isn’t yet clear. This experience of change can feel chaotic and overwhelming sometimes so this can be a very helpful practice.
I’d like to introduce Joshua Dunn, a lovely client who reached out to share his story with me this week. I asked if he would be comfortable with me sharing it here and he agreed. Enjoy!
This particular Saturday started like most of our Saturdays: my husband and I slept in, staying warm under the quilt as the outside world slowly defrosted. When we finally got up, we made coffee and eggs. After breakfast, I headed to the gym for my usual Saturday routine, taking extra time to relax in the sauna and hot tub after my workout.
“Should I go to Costco or Fred Meyer for groceries?” I wondered. “Eh, I don’t feel like dealing with Costco today—Freddy’s it is,” I silently decided.
I grabbed a second coffee on my way to the store, picked up a shopping cart, and headed in for the few items we needed for the week. Almost immediately after entering, I nearly dropped my coffee in disbelief. There, right in front of me, was an elderly woman who, from behind my now-cloudy glasses, looked exactly like my sweet, recently departed grandmother.
Her humble 5’4” gently rounded silhouette appeared just as I remembered from our many years of shopping together. From her white bob haircut to the baggy capri pants and even the questionably fashionable yet undeniably comfortable Crocs—her signature shoe in her later years—everything about her felt so familiar. My brain worked feverishly to reconcile my reality with what I was seeing.
It took everything in me not to run up and hug her. Should I? I thought. No, that would be weird. You’d probably scare her. I took a deep breath. Pull yourself together.
I teared up just watching her mosey near the front of the store. She even had her purse looped on her arm instead of in the cart—just like my grandmother always did. Her cane rested in the cart’s seat. How can this be? I wondered.
I eventually collected myself and decided not to startle this kind stranger. I shook it off as a coincidence, smiled to myself, and moved on to the produce section. But not long after, as I was searching for bananas, I looked up to find the familiar petite woman directly in front of my cart, her kind eyes meeting mine from behind her mask.
This time, I couldn’t help myself. “Pardon me,” I began. “You look just like my grandmother, who raised my brothers and me. We lost her about a year ago.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh my heavens! Isn’t that special?” she exclaimed.
“How old was she?”
“Eighty-two when she departed,” I replied.
“I’m 92, and I’ll be 93 this June 15. Can’t believe I’ve made it this far!” she beamed softly, placing a hand on her chest.
I was floored. “My grandfather’s birthday was June 15,” I shared, still in disbelief. “He and my grandmother were married sixty-one years.”
“Well, isn’t that special,” she said. “You know, son, I believe I’m still here to take care of my son, who struggles a lot mentally. That’s why I haven’t been called home yet. Your grandmother, though—she finished her work. It was her time to move on. And I can tell she did a mighty fine job raising you boys.”
Tears welled up again, and I thanked her.
“You take care of yourself, ma’am. Many blessings to you. I hope you live another 92 years!”
“My goodness!” she exclaimed, chuckling. “I certainly don’t!”—a response my grandmother would have given to such a bold statement. We both laughed.
“God bless you,” she said as we said our goodbyes. “Take care and have a great day.”
As she disappeared from view, I noticed the items in her cart: a small spiral ham, bakery cookies, clementines, potato chips, and Pine-Sol. Pine-Sol was my grandmother’s go-to cleaning solution for everything.
“Wow,” I thought. “What a special gift and visit.”
I tried to collect myself, pretending my emotion was just indecision over which celery stalks to take home. As I moved aisle to aisle, I found myself longing to see her again. But no matter how much I looked, she was gone.
I thought about my grandmother and all the happy and sad moments we shared—the celebrations, the struggles, and the love she poured into raising my brothers and me. I realized the next day would mark the 63rd birthday of my grandparents’ firstborn, my would-be aunt, who had departed at just five days old.
It was also one year since my first-ever mediumship session with Anna, where my grandmother had been the first spirit to visit. She’d immediately apologized for not heeding the medical advice I had begged her to follow before her departure. I’d spent hours pleading with her in the hospital to listen to the doctors, but true to form, she had smiled and said, “If it’s my time, it’s my time.”
After her departure, I wrestled with guilt. Could I have done more? Was she upset with me for pleading with her? During that session, she reassured me there was nothing I could have done differently. Her apology and validation helped me begin to heal.
As I rounded the last aisle and headed to checkout, I remembered another detail from that session: Anna had mentioned a young child’s birthday being celebrated in spirit. At the time, I couldn’t place it, but later that day, an aunt reminded me it would have been her baby sister’s birthday.
I finished at the register, took one last look at the produce aisle, and walked out to the parking lot. The sunlight rested gently on my forehead as I smiled.
I choose to believe it was a sweet visit from my grandmother’s spirit, a reminder that she’s still near. Her earthly work was complete—she had raised her slain daughter’s three boys into men. And in that moment, I felt her reminder: You’ve got this. I’m with you always. Live your life fully, as I raised you to do.
The car ride home was warm and quiet, but I wasn’t alone. Of that, I am certain.
If you have a story or strong memory about your experience in session with me or something related and you get a tug to share it, please reach out! I’d love to hear from you and it may be just the right medicine for someone reading here.
Sending warmth to all,
Anna Blossom