Hummingbirds, Signs, and Staying Open to Love After Loss

My grandmother passed away this January.

Like many people who work in mediumship and intuitive development, I often find myself in the unique position of helping others connect with loved ones in spirit while still navigating my own grief when loss touches my life. One thing I've learned is that no amount of spiritual knowledge removes the human experience of missing someone.

Shortly after my grandmother passed, I found myself thinking about signs. Not dramatic signs or earth-shattering experiences, but simple moments of connection that remind us our loved ones are still near.

Inspired in part by the stories shared in Laura Lynne Jackson's book Signs, I decided to set a very specific intention. I asked my grandmother to send me hummingbirds.

Not because hummingbirds had any particular significance between us, but because they felt uncommon enough to get my attention. At the time, I had recently moved to San Diego and was spending most of my days downtown and by the bay. While hummingbirds certainly exist here, they weren't something I encountered regularly.

So I made a simple request: if she wanted to get my attention, send me a hummingbird.

What happened next surprised even me.

Within minutes of setting that intention, a hummingbird flew directly up to my face. Not nearby. Not in the distance. Directly in front of me. It hovered for a brief moment before darting away. Hi, Grandma.

I remember laughing because the timing felt almost comical. It was as if she was saying, "Like this?"

A few days later, I walked outside my apartment building and found a hummingbird that had passed away lying directly in front of the entrance. While some might find that unsettling, I didn't. Instead, it stopped me in my tracks. It felt impossible to ignore. Another reminder. Another moment that caused me to pause and think of her.

Then the hummingbirds seemed to appear everywhere.

Pictures online. Artwork in unexpected places. Social media posts. Random conversations. Images I wasn't actively searching for. The more I paid attention, the more frequently they seemed to cross my path.

One afternoon, my husband and I were sitting by the water enjoying a drink when two hummingbirds began darting in and out of a nearby bird of paradise plant. I watched them for several minutes, feeling that familiar sense of comfort wash over me.

Not because I believed my grandmother had literally transformed into a hummingbird, but because the moment felt meaningful. It caught my awareness. It opened my heart. It reminded me of her.

Months later, after knee surgery, I began physical therapy. On my very first visit, I sat down for my consultation and looked up. Hanging directly above the consultation table was a beaded hummingbird ornament.

I smiled.

Another one.

Then I started walking through the clinic.

Above the massage tables were more hummingbirds. Not one. Not two. Every single massage table in the entire physical therapy center had a hanging hummingbird decoration above it.

At that point, I couldn't help but laugh.

The consistency had become undeniable.

One of the central themes in Laura Lynne Jackson's book is that signs aren't necessarily about proving the existence of an afterlife. They're about creating connection. The sign itself often matters less than the feeling it creates. A sign causes us to stop. To remember. To feel. To recognize that love may continue in ways we don't fully understand.

Skeptics often ask whether experiences like these are simply coincidence. Maybe they are. But I think that's often the wrong question. The better question is this: Did the experience bring comfort? Did it create a moment of connection? Did it open your heart?

For me, the answer is yes. Every single time.

One thing I have learned through mediumship, Reiki, and personal experience is that receiving signs is often less about extraordinary psychic ability and more about openness. Many people desperately want a sign from a loved one, but they're expecting something dramatic—a voice, a full apparition, or a movie-worthy experience. Meanwhile, spirit is sending songs, animals, dreams, synchronicities, repeated symbols, and meaningful coincidences that quietly appear throughout everyday life.

The challenge isn't usually that our loved ones aren't communicating. The challenge is that we're often too distracted, too skeptical, or too busy to notice. When we soften our expectations and become willing to receive in unexpected ways, communication becomes much easier.

Whether the hummingbirds were messages from my grandmother, meaningful coincidences, or some combination of both, they accomplished something important. They kept bringing me back to love. Back to memory. Back to gratitude. Back to connection.

Every hummingbird reminded me that relationships don't simply end because someone's physical body is gone. The conversations change. The form changes. But love has a way of continuing.

And sometimes, if we're willing to pay attention, it finds surprisingly creative ways to say hello.