Grace's Embrace

It was Sunday morning—my final one in Bradford. A whisper stirred within me, soft and familiar, like an old friend’s voice: “Please visit me before you leave.” I knew immediately it was Grace. Not a person I met in the usual way, but a presence—gentle, comforting, and sacred.

I first encountered Grace Manning back in 2023, at the quiet, leafy park of Fuller Heights. I was searching desperately for a space to ground myself, meditate, and find peace amidst the emotional weight of the past two months. Bradford had been beautiful, but elusive—it hadn’t offered a place that felt truly mine. That was, until I found the trees.

Two trees, standing side by side, tall and lush, shaded by their generous canopy. Beneath them was a bench. As I sat down, taking in the serene view and allowing myself to breathe, my eyes landed on a small gold plaque: "Our Little Peanut, Grace Manning. We love you to the moon and back!" And then it hit me—I had seen a vision of her earlier. A little girl, blonde-haired, dressed in a white lace dress, holding a flower. She smiled warmly as I entered the park, and though it felt surreal, I now knew it was Grace—guiding me toward this place I so deeply needed.

That was the day I named the trees Grace and Manning.

From then on, they became my sanctuary. I visited regularly—sometimes for meditation, sometimes for grounding or quiet Reiki healing. I brought books, whispered prayers, watched children playing in the distance, and allowed myself to feel. Grace was with me through it all—joyful moments, uncertain ones, even days filled with tears. She became one of my most loyal companions during my time in Bradford.

Now, as I prepared to leave, intuition told me to visit one last time.

My bags were packed—one backpack, one large tote, and my three luggage. My heart was heavy. Leaving Bradford meant parting not just from the town but from my brother and sister-in-law. The unknown ahead, living alone again, felt daunting. Still, I whispered, “Okay Grace, I’ll come see you.” And I walked.

In just five minutes, I arrived at the spot. Grace and Manning stood exactly as they always had—majestic, steady, waiting. I walked straight to the bench and sat down, placing my hand over the plaque and quietly saying, “Thank you. Salamat.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in the stillness. I offered prayers of abundance and protection—not just for myself, but for the trees, the park, and the memories we had created together.

Then I stood and walked to Grace Tree. I pressed my face gently to the bark, embracing her like an old friend. That’s when I noticed something strange—half-buried in the trunk, a folded wire nail. My heart ached for her. Carefully, I curled it out from the wood, slow and steady. And when it was released, I felt a rush—like pain being set free.

I cried. Hugged Grace tightly for three minutes. Her energy was warm and enveloping, like a heartbeat wrapping around me in peace and protection.

I then turned to Manning Tree. As I wrapped my arms around its trunk, I felt something even more extraordinary—like the tree itself bent toward me, embracing me in return. Manning’s gentle presence wiped away my tears, and I felt calm again. Restored.

As I opened my eyes and stepped back, I looked down and saw a single gray feather near my feet. I smiled with surprise and deep joy. In spiritual symbolism, feathers represent divine protection, freedom, and messages from loved ones or angels. I knew without question—this was no coincidence.

The wire nail and the feather. Two symbols. One of release, the other of grace.

Together, they told me: You are safe. You are protected. You are free to begin again.

This farewell wasn’t final. In places where you feel safe, seen, and spiritually held—goodbyes don’t echo. Only love does. Grace Manning wasn’t just a memory etched in brass. She was a soul who helped heal mine.

As I left the park, I whispered once more, “Thank you for everything, Grace Manning.” This isn’t goodbye. This is see you soon.