Sat. Aug. 05, 2017
I picked up a copy of your death certificate today....Good job I went with some dear friends. Here I am, thirty years later, sitting in the passenger's seat parked in the very same spot my Dad did when he pulled into the funeral home. It could have been 1987. That was the year a grand cross formed in the constellations and opened up a huge portal for us all to empower ourselves. Today, it seemed like the timelines intersected. I jumped out of the car, snapping back into the present and the task at hand. I told my friends that I would be right back, a jaunty little smile on my face. It wasn't until I got up to the door that it hit me. The timelines intersected again and all the times I've entered that funeral home to say good-bye to members of my family came flooding back. Five year old me, mourning my brother turned into 30 year old me without husband and lover to forty year old me saying good-bye to my mother; followed closely by Dad, her husband and lover. I tried to follow you, oh how I tried. I wouldn't do it myself, not like you did, but there were so many times that I was reckless; so many times that I was care-Less with this life I have been gifted. It seemed like a pretty shitty present at the time and I just wanted to go Home with you. My angels and guides, including you, were working overtime and I thank all of you profusely. So here I am, 60 years old and feeling like all of this was yesterday; standing at the doors as they opened to that familiar scent. I stood there in the foyer, waiting for someone to greet me. A lovely woman descended the staircase and ushered me into the office. She handed me the envelope with your name on it. Patrick Joseph Edward was all I saw before the tears started rolling. I don't really think I saw the first one back in 1987. All I remember is that it was orange and it had your name on it. I do remember sitting in the car in the same spot we parked today, waiting for my Dad to come out of the funeral home. I do remember saying Give it to me Dad when he got back in the car. My Dad replied, Give you what? I said, Whatever you have in your pocket. You have something in your pocket. I do remember Dad looking at me, always incredulous about how I "knew" things. I do remember him placing your bloodied, dented wedding ring in my hand and me looking at it and saying, Okay Dad, now you can march right back in there and put it back on his finger. Dad meant well, he just wanted to have something to prove to me that you were dead because he thought I would go into denial at some point when I refused to be the one to identify your body. That was just your body, the vehicle your spirit came in with. Your spirit had already come to me and moved through me the moment you died when I couldn't breathe and I saw a vision of you and the truck. Dad wouldn't believe I knew about that either. He still wanted to drive to the cottage looking for you. He didn't want to believe me when I told him because it was too painful for him to bear the loss of another son, he loved you so much. He just kept saying over and over, You don't know for sure until we stopped to phone home and Theresa said in her calm steady voice, Come home Jeanne. That had to be one of the worst rides of my life but it has brought me here, 30 years later and I am Home, at least for the duration of my time here on Planet Earth. You were a real can-opener but more than that; you were a catalyst for me to walk this path. I am in gratitude and awe that I am finally awakening to my true self. I have absolute faith in the afterlife, therefore I am not afraid of dying. I have died a thousand times in this lifetime alone on my journey into self enlightenment. I can hear you laughing. So am I. I am smiling too. It's a wonder-filled life when you believe....