By Stefanie Chiarel 
Have you ever had to say goodbye as your very heavy heart kept repeating . . . but it isn’t time yet? A lifetime with my grandmother just wasn’t enough, and she had so much life left to live beyond her 84 years.
She was a firecracker, a force to be reckoned with, a tiny little lady with a spirit as big as the sky. She was sweet but ferocious, tiny but mighty, loving but the toughest cookie in the jar. She loved her makeup and her high heels, and if you were lucky enough to be loved by her, then you were among the blessed.
I was her only grandchild, and I firmly believe I was the best one I could be to her except for one misstep. My only regret in my life involved not showing up at a time when there was no place else I should have been, and I accepted it would be a mistake I could never amend. But then, along came my pen and paper, and it was the Hail Mary at redemption I have been wanting for eight years. This is my chance to let everyone know that I was raised by a true superwoman.
Now that you’ve gotten to know my grandmother a little bit, you can imagine why it was so hard to say goodbye, especially because it was a situation that could have been avoided. Had things panned out differently, she would have enjoyed much more time here. I just kept thinking it wasn’t her time yet. We had been robbed of her, and she had been robbed of us. In the time after her passing, I would repeat that to myself for holidays, birthdays, and in the everyday moments of missing her. It was a death I could not make peace with.
The following year I became pregnant with my first child, a baby girl, and I thought you should be here for this. We had her empty chair at my baby shower, and I had plenty to remind me of her presence, but it wasn’t enough. Again I felt so unsettled and robbed. It wasn’t her time; she should be here for this.
And then, my daughter was born, and she was in big trouble. She needed an angel, but not just any run-of-the-mill, sitting-on-your-shoulder angel. She needed the angel who would run around in high heels and bring our prayers to the front of the line. She needed an angel who would breathe for her when she couldn’t and who would bring her back (three times) when the lines on the machine went flat. She needed an angel who would bend God’s ear but trusted His timing. She needed my grandmother.
The doctors and nurses in the NICU were struck at how actively my baby was fighting, despite the sedation and the vent. I watched her fight for each breath, and I knew with such certainty that my grandmother’s spirit had taken over while she took the time she needed to grow strong. Her tenacity became the baby’s strength, her zest for life became the baby’s resolve to overcome and live. My grandmother became an angel so her great-granddaughter could live.
I believe everything happens for a reason. For a long time, approximately 540 days, I couldn’t understand my grandmother’s passing. But on the day I took my healthy baby home, I understood why my grandmother got her wings. The breaths she couldn’t find for herself, she found for my baby.
And now, that baby is a little girl who is taking over the world. She is a firecracker, a force to be reckoned with, a tiny little lady with a spirit as big as the sky. She is sweet but ferocious, tiny but mighty, loving but the toughest cookie in the jar. She loves her makeup and high heels, and if you’re lucky enough to be loved by her, then you are among the blessed.
I told you she was Superwoman.
by Stephanie McCoy 
by Lauren Barrett 
by Vicki Bahr 
