Stories about life, love, death, and what comes after.
“It’s one thing to say “I am the light!” when we are surrounded by the blaze of our fellow souls. It’s quite another to be immersed in the travails of human life and to come to see that we still shine.” Brenda didn’t really believe she was all of that until she stepped out of her tired Brenda suit and into her full Zsa Zsa magnificence.
Will missing the messages from our guides and angels upset them? Do we hurt their feelings when we’re so oblivious?
Our people do not leave us. They may leave our awareness and we can work to get that back. To a degree. Mostly an unsatisfying degree. It’s hard to give up constancy. It activates all of the why’s and a sense of unfairness and that deep, irreparable feeling of having something stolen from us. It isn’t the same. I wish I could say it was. But for many of us ~ me included ~ what comes after grief can bring incredible gifts. That is absolutely true and I am so very grateful it’s been my experience that after a long time of the most hopeless misery, I found something that helped and healed not only my broken heart, but a fear of death that held me captive for decades.
I was huddled in the corner of the room crying, a blanket over my head. Brenda was next to me in an ER bed, crying from pain. In the midst of chaos and sorrow, a shiny sign from my dead husband. And only hours later, we were laughing so hard the nurses shushed us. “All our darkness will turn to light.” It’s true.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the randomness, chaos, and utter unpredictability of life. We all have free will, of course. But alas, so does every other being we encounter. I may plan for a direct, sunshine-y, drama-free path, yet there all y’all are, out there in your bumper cars, driving all crazy and slamming into things.
“That was the thing in that dusty old building. It was the little something extra in the web Mike was weaving, a little lagniappe that led me to the certainty that these events weren’t simply by chance…”
How we can see things that allegedly aren’t there, according to the Human Rule Set (lies, for the most part, trickery to allow us to forget who we are), is something I don’t understand. But that I have seen things and experienced things deemed impossible is enough.
Can the death of our loved ones bring gifts? Yes. Though I’d never have dreamed it eleven years ago, my husband’s last breath has led to joy.
I can’t breathe. She’s not perfusing. Three words can mark the end of one life and the beginning of another, unwanted one. What do we do with that?
Why would one we’re so close to in life fail to reassure us after death? Since Brenda died, my friend Raven and I have regularly said to one another (a little resentfully, to be honest), “that Brenda, she’s out there helping baby mediums, tickling our other friends on the head, coming through to people who never knew her in life. Where are OUR signs?”
An Unexpected Mystic 