Finer Moments

“Life is eternal, and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.” – Rossiter R. Raymond

Exactly twelve years ago today was not a happy one for me. But it was quite instructive. Debbie, my wife of 17 years, and the mother of my two sons, passed from the physical world and into the next one. She had been fighting cancer for four years, and the battle had just taken too much of a toll on her body. That actual day she passed is still very vivid in my memory. Her mother, our two sons, and myself were present at her bedside. She had chosen to be at home when this happened. Within an hour after she left and when the funeral home was taking her body for cremation, I suddenly saw her standing in the area connecting the dining room to the living room. Now of course, I’m talking about her ‘spirit’ presence. And I didn’t see her with my physical eyes, but my spiritual sense of sight. She seemed to be floating about two feet off the ground and she looked radiant, but with this puzzled look on her face. Then she spoke to me in my mind, wanting to know what all this fuss was about.

What ensued was the realization that from her renewed sense of perspective in the spirit realm where she now was, that all this attention, activity and fuss about someone passing away and crossing over to the other side was just plain nonsense. It seemed that those on that side had a much greater and clearer realization of what this natural process was, compared to what we know on this side. Very intriguing. Why we here are kept so in the dark is somewhat puzzling, but maybe it doesn’t have to be so. Maybe it just takes us being motivated to think for ourselves, and being more curious and inquisitive.

It did make seeing her lifeless body right there have less of an effect on me, because I knew that was not her anymore. In fact, I actually saw my first dead body when I was fifteen. My grandfather died on New Year’s day that year, and I remember when we got the call because we were watching the college football bowl games on TV. Naturally my mother fell apart, being her father. Frank, being only in his mid-fifties, had fallen to a heart attack.

Now we had to drive to his funeral from Texas to Nebraska, in the dead of winter. There were five of us; my mother and father, my aunt and uncle, and me. I was the oldest of seven, and was the one to represent all us kids. Funny how all types of responsibilities fall on the oldest. Oh well, maybe I’d chosen to incarnate first. As you can imagine, it was not the happiest of trips. It was basically uneventful, except for when I was driving (I had barely learned) and we hit ice on the freeway in Oklahoma City. As we slid through the area, I had images of being responsible for multiple funeral processions.

Once we were finally there and the funeral started, I was very uncomfortable being there. It was an open casket affair, and I had no desire to go up for the viewing. In fact, I strongly resisted, but my parents required that I do so. As I gazed into the casket, I couldn’t help but feel the ridiculous barbarism of this event. But it also dawned on me that this dressed up piece of flesh, appearing so content and plastic, was not my grandfather, just an empty shell. That actually made me feel somewhat better, even though the whole atmosphere was eerie. But this realization got me thinking about where he could possibly be at that moment.

A few months later I got the sneaking suspicion that he was periodically ‘hanging around’. About two years later was when I had my previously mentioned teenage OOBE’s.

So more than thirty years later, Debbie passed away. As hard as it was to accept her passing, I knew it was not the end of her and that she would be all right. It was the missing of her presence that was difficult, and the fact we had two sons who were only 12 and 16. But over these last several years I have had a number of contacts with her, and some have been quite amazing. Most have been during meditation or just during the course of my normal life, and a few in vivid dreams. In the future I will share some of them with you. They have been quite instructive for me, and maybe they will be for you, too.

And maybe I will tell you a bit about her too. She was a very warm, positive, and supportive person. A much better mother than the father that I am. She always supported and motivated me in my trials as a fledgling writer and filmmaker. In fact, I attribute her influence to where I am today. But no, I changed my mind … I don’t think I will tell you much about her here. I’m just going to keep that … for myself … for now.