Phone Calls to Heaven

By April T Giauque

Short Stories: Phone Calls to Heaven

I want to call Momma and tell her something. My heart lifts and flutters for the infinitesimal amount of time as I think to reach for the phone or walk to her room, and I remember…she is not there. That exciting moment suddenly shifts to a free-fall feeling of loss…. It can sometimes trigger my “grief response,” and I am stunned by this new reality. I hate this. 

How can a relationship be so severed? I didn’t choose to cut off the communication. I want to just talk to my momma. I want to share my life with her. I know she is still my momma, but my heart desperately misses her signature and sincere laughter, advice, worries, and light in my life. I know she is alive in Heaven, and I believe she is employed as an angel to many. That has been confirmed. 

But I still… just want to talk to her…

Yesterday, as we cleaned out the last of the storage shed, I twice felt that I heard my name being called by her. I heard “April.” It made me stop and want to shout out, “I’m here!” I was then reminded of the time I fell asleep under my bunk bed and was “lost” to the family. That is, they searched and searched for me and could find no trace of me, but I was awakened by my mother’s voice calling out, “April! April!” I emerged from my bed sleepy-eyed and a little disoriented, but she was there, reaching for me. It felt like an echo of that memory while going through her things. 

This morning, as I was studying and preparing Elder Ransband’s General Conference message for the Beacon of Light From the Pulpit Podcast, I felt an idea—or was it a whisper? Either way, I understood that maybe, just maybe, in my prayers and thoughtful meditation….I could “make that phone call” of a sort.

I felt that I could ask my Heavenly Father to “pass on a message from little ole me” to my sweet Momma.  After all, He knows what she is doing. (Why not go to the source?). I felt that toward the end of my prayers, I would do a “p.s.” of a sort. I don’t mean this in any way sacrilegious (I’m not going to start praying to my mom), but really as a simple, tender message to my mom about my day. 

That thought led me to think deeply about my prayers and how I approach my Father in Heaven. I know He is there and understands my needs… which is why this thought came to me. I also thought I could vocalize some of these messages while I am on my commute or doing the mundane work of laundry and dishes, just talking to her, and then, in those quiet moments, thinking about her to see if I feel a response or peace or light. 

Sweet peace filled my heart at this thought, as well as a gentle but firm caution. This is not channeling Momma or seeking power or knowledge, but a lasting connection to family, as we are eternal. I felt a confirmation to reach out to family and friends more. I felt a need to write and journal more to " share” my day with her. A soft smile spreads across my face. Peaceful…Thank you, Heavenly Father and Jesus, for making this possible. I love you, Momma. Talk to you soon.