A Hummingbird Saved My Heart

Life has a way of bringing us to our knees when we least expect it, forcing us to confront our pain, our fears, and ultimately, ourselves. My journey through grief, loss, healing, and spiritual awakening began in the most heartbreaking way, yet it brought me to a place of profound transformation. And it all started with a hummingbird.

In October 2023, my world shattered. My father was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, the kind that offered no hope, no treatment, no reprieve. In my desperation, I threw myself into finding alternative therapies—herbal remedies, IV treatments, anything that might save him. I was in denial, clinging to hope, even when doctors told us to prepare for hospice. I thought, Maybe I can save him.

I tried everything: green juices, turmeric concoctions, Chinese herbs, even high-dose IV therapies. But nothing worked. My father was frail, his body weakened, but the frailest part of him was his mind and heart. It was heartbreaking to watch him give up on himself, and even more heartbreaking to realize I couldn’t save him.

The pain only deepened when I saw my parents’ relationship unravel in his final days. My mother, carrying years of unhealed wounds and emotional pain, struggled to process her grief in a way that felt safe for her. At times, her anger and frustration surfaced, and she directed it at my father in ways that were hard for me to witness.

In those moments, I felt triggered. It was painful to see her lash out at him, especially when he was so vulnerable. But as I sat with these emotions, I began to realize that her actions weren’t about him—they were about the unresolved wounds she carried within herself. Her pain mirrored my own in ways I hadn’t yet understood.

Rather than judging her, I began to see this as an invitation to look inward. Her anger reminded me of my own unhealed wounds—feelings of helplessness, guilt, and frustration at not being able to save my father. Her grief reflected the parts of me that were also struggling to process the enormity of what was happening.

Eventually, we moved my father into hospice care. On his first day there, overwhelmed with emotions and thoughts of losing him soon, I instinctively and intuitively placed my hand on his chest, as if to comfort him. I whispered, “Don’t be afraid. Everything will be okay.”

In that moment, he opened his eyes and gave me the biggest smile. It was the first smile I’d seen in weeks. Looking back, it felt like he understood everything I couldn’t say, and I understood everything he couldn’t say.

He passed away shortly after. The days following his death felt like a nightmare—grueling yet fast, a whirlwind of grief and finalities. We cremated him, brought his ashes home, and began trying to adjust to life without him.

Not long after, hummingbirds began appearing in our garden. At first, I thought nothing of it. My husband bought a hummingbird feeder to bring some joy back into my life, but the birds ignored it. Instead, they hovered around my father’s old chair—the place he used to sit every morning. My husband moved the feeder to that spot, and suddenly, the hummingbirds began feeding. It was as if they were waiting for us to understand something, to see the connection.

Three months later, I received a call that my mother was hospitalized for a heart condition. She needed surgery, and I left the next day to visit her. For the first time in my life, I found myself completely alone. I stayed at her apartment, visiting her daily, and for the first time in decades, I had no distractions—just myself.

During this time, I made the decision to look inward. I began walking 10,000 steps a day, practicing yoga, and exploring fasting. I sought out information on healing, both physical and spiritual. The hummingbirds were with me throughout, their presence a constant reminder of resilience and joy. Slowly, I felt myself reconnecting with the parts of me I had long neglected.

It was during this period of self-reflection and healing that I decided to seek a psychic reading about my inner child. What unfolded felt like a confirmation of everything I had been discovering about myself.

The psychic described a vision of my inner child as a little girl sitting alone on the ground, her knees drawn to her chest. She wore a pale blue dress, simple and worn, her dark hair tangled around her face as though shielding herself from the world. Her eyes—those eyes—held something that felt like a secret, an ache unspoken yet unmistakable.

The psychic described the weight of her sadness, the way it sat in her small shoulders as though she had been carrying something heavy for far too long. She wasn’t crying, but her stillness spoke volumes—a silence dense with all the things that were never said. She longed to feel safe, seen, and loved.

Hearing this, I realized how much of my life had mirrored the experiences of this little girl. The doubts, the hesitations, the moments I shrank myself or questioned my worth—all of it was rooted in wounds I hadn’t yet addressed.

The psychic’s message was clear: my inner child had been waiting for me—not to fix her, but to acknowledge her, to hold her, and to remind her that she was always worthy of love.

I began to see how the healing of my inner child was interwoven with everything else—my father’s death, my mother’s struggles, and the presence of the hummingbirds. Each was a piece of the puzzle, guiding me to look inward, to nurture the parts of me that had been neglected.

Healing my inner child wasn’t about erasing the pain—it was about learning to sit with it, to embrace it with compassion. It was about sitting with that little girl in the pale blue dress and telling her, You are enough. You always have been.

Hummingbirds are extraordinary creatures. They are the smallest birds in the world, yet their wings beat up to 80 times per second, and they are the only birds that can hover, fly backward, and even upside down. Despite their delicate appearance, they are incredibly strong, capable of migrating thousands of miles. Their resilience reminded me of my own journey—fragile yet strong, grieving yet capable of transformation.

Through this journey, I realized that self-love is the foundation for loving others. True healing begins within. The hummingbirds, my father’s message, the psychic’s vision, and the universe all conspired to guide me toward that awakening.

This is how a hummingbird saved my life. It didn’t just help me heal from grief; it awakened me to the beauty of life, the importance of self-love, and the boundless joy of connection—with spirit, with others, and with the child within me who simply needed to feel loved.

To those who are grieving, who feel lost, or who are searching for meaning, I want to share this: healing is not linear, and signs of hope often appear in the most unexpected ways. Trust the journey. Listen to the whispers of the universe. And never underestimate the power of joy—no matter how small—to transform your life. I hope my story reminds you that even in the darkest moments, there is light waiting to be discovered. Sometimes, it just takes a hummingbird to show us the way.

From my heart to yours 💜🙏

Solarys