Taylor Caldwell was a bestselling author back in the 1950s and 1960s. For decades, her historical romances dominated the bestseller charts. In terms of sales and excitement, she was the mid-century’s equivalent of Danielle Steel.

Her devoted husband, with whom she had a long and wonderful marriage, preceded her in death. His death came after a protracted illness, but both had been preparing for it. Just minutes before his death, Taylor Caldwell clutched her husband’s hand and pleaded, “If there is life on the other side, I beg you, send me a sign. Let me know you are with me.”

Her husband nodded his assent.

“Promise?” she begged.

“I promise,” he said, in a very weak whisper, before he passed away.

The next morning, overcome by her grief, Taylor Caldwell stepped out into her garden, seeking solace from nature as she always did. “Oh, darling,” she cried out to her husband, “If only you could send me a sign that you are with me, I could try to go on. My pain is wrenching, my grief is so strong, I fear I cannot survive otherwise.”

Just then, Ms. Caldwell approached a section of her garden where the ground had always proven stubbornly infertile and had never flourished like the surrounding area. As her gaze absently swept over this section, she gasped.

In the center of this section stood a rosemary bush that had not been productive for thirty years. Just the day before, when she had walked these same grounds seeking respite from her death watch, she had commented to herself how sorry she was that the bush had never thrived. But one day later, it was inexplicably in full bloom. Staring in shock and awe at the bush, Taylor Caldwell stood motionless for a long time, absorbing its message. “Thank you,” she whispered fervently, “thank you. I will be able to go on, now that I know you are with me.”

She had clearly been given the sign she was seeking. She told interviewers later. “You see,” she explained, “rosemary means … remembrance.”

True love never dies for it pulsates with an energy that cannot be stopped, not even by death as Taylor Caldwell describes in this lovely real-life miracle.
The story of the Rosemary bush, reminiscent of the Gospel story of the fig tree ( LUKE 21 : 29 ), reminded her that the love between her and her deceased husband did not die, but lived on even after his passing from this life.

—Fr. Hugh Duffy