Yesterday I got together with a friend I had not seen in about two years. During our wonderful conversation over lunch, catching up on all that had transpired since I last saw her, she told me that her brother had passed away 16 months ago. I was naturally surprised and saddened to hear this. She was well aware of my son’s transition in May of 2017, and knew that I had written a book (Look Around: A Mother’s Journey from Grief and Despair to Healing and Hope) about it a year ago. However I wasn’t sure if she knew the depth to which I had written about the connections we continue to have with our loved one in spirit. I gently expressed to her my belief that my son and her brother are still around in spirit, and with no hesitation she wholeheartedly agreed. Then, with only slight caution, she told me about something that had occurred the day after his passing.
That morning, still fresh with grief, my friend was getting ready to leave to face the grim business of arranging her brother’s services. As she opened the door and stepped out, a small gust of wind blew into her face and enveloped her. It had the distinct sent of his cologne and she felt an immediate sense of his presence. Of course she looked around to see if anyone else was there, but no one was. She was immediately overcome with an indescribable peace, a peace that provided her with a few moments of absolute love from her brother, and which eased her grief for those moments. She felt it was his way of sending her his love and saying all was well.
When a loved one transitions, someone who is the world to you, it feels like you have lost a part of yourself. This is exactly how so many people describe it. We feel that way because of the connection we have with him/her, a deep connection at a level we can’t even fully express. The truth is, this connection is eternal. Sometimes we don’t realize this because the loss of his/her presence is so overwhelming. Our loved ones’ physical bodies very much represent how we know them, yet the truth is we are all so much more than that. Whether we realize it or not, we are also strongly connected to their essence, to their soul, and that connection will never go away.
Our loved ones have moved into a purely spiritual existence that we do not detect with our five senses. We live in a three dimensional world, as well as one dimension of time. Our loved ones who have passed have moved into a greater reality, greater dimensions that are still right with us but invisible to our human eyes and inaudible to our human ears.
However there are moments where those two realities, theirs and ours, can cross. In those moments we become aware of their presence. And when this happens, it is almost as if we get a glimpse into their world as they exist now. It is a surreal moment, a moment of peace that cannot be described in our human words.
When this integration of the two worlds takes place, we feel such joy that we wish to share that with others we know. Yet this miraculous event is so hard to truly and fully express to anyone else. Trying to explain this to someone who is slightly or even fully open to this possibility is not too difficult. But of course expressing this experience to someone who is skeptical or even cynical about life beyond this earthly realm can be a bit painful. It is usually dismissed or explained somehow in human terms which usually include, “You have quite an imagination,” or, “That’s what grief can do to your mind,” or, “You must have been dreaming,” or of course, “You’re crazy!” Yet there is a knowing deep in our hearts that a connection has been made. It’s best not to share something so beautiful and personal with skeptics. Keep this amazing gift for yourself.
Most of us have been raised to believe that all we see, hear, touch, smell and taste is the only reality. If we can’t see it, it must not exist. But what about sound waves and light waves? What about electromagnetic fields and radiation. Yes, we see the results of these energies. We hear the sound transmitted from a speaker, and we see the car headlights in the night. But we don’t actually see any of these energies. Are they there, or not? It has been determined by scientists that of course they are there since the evidence is all around us.
So what about the scent of her brother’s cologne that my friend smelled? No one was around. No one had passed by. The sidewalk was empty. What was that?
I can hear it now. “It’s just her imagination.” For some, that is enough of a justification, a nice and easy way to explain it away. However, she hadn’t been thinking about his cologne. She hadn’t sat and wished and hoped to smell it. When she least expected it, it was there.
I have heard too many stories similar to this one that have no solid explanation. I have heard and read hundreds and hundreds accounts of these connections. Some of these experiences include interactions with nature, such as a bird hanging out outside someone’s window for hours at a time, a bare dormant plant in the middle of winter suddenly blossoming the next day, feeling a gentle and loving hug while sleeping, receiving a text out of nowhere from their deceased loved one that says “hi,” even hearing or seeing one’s loved one, etc. The list goes on. I am willing to bet that most of you reading this have a story or two of your own. And I can also bet that those of you who have had an experience similar to these (if you haven’t already talked yourself out of it) probably hesitate to tell some people about it for fear of being ridiculed. I don’t blame you. I don’t like being ridiculed either. Arguing will get you nowhere. Everyone’s beliefs are different. Let it be. Keep it in your heart, because in your heart, you know.
Albert Einstein said, “Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another.” It cannot be destroyed. As I see it, the energy of our physical bodies changes at “death.” There is only death of the human body. Our true self, our consciousness, shifts into the purely spiritual. And the connections remain—if we are open to them.
During those early months after my 24-year-old son had passed away in a car accident, I had learned about self-guided meditations. I would soothe myself by guiding myself to a beautiful place of my choosing, usually a sandy beach with clear blue water and palm trees. I created many details that included a table and two chairs overlooking the water where I could sit with Eric, have a latte, and talk, enjoying the breeze and the scent of the ocean. I admit this was completely my imagination. I knew it was something created by my mind. Regardless, it brought me some comfort. I actually felt like I had spent some time with him.
So for many months after Eric left his physical body, I cried each night when I went to bed. I had held it together for most of the day, but the emotions came out as soon as my head hit the pillow. I couldn’t do anything about this outpouring of grief. Out it came. Then, I would do the self-guided meditation. I usually spent about 10 minutes guiding myself through a lovely pathway of trees, flowers, hills and grasses that eventually led to that glorious beach. I then spent another 10 minutes with Eric, talking with him and telling him how much I loved him. This would calm me, and I usually had no trouble sleeping after that.
But one night I was extra tired when I went to bed. I said to Eric that I was going to skip the pathway and just see him at the table overlooking the beach. In my imagination, I sat at the table and saw him approaching me from a short distance, wearing his usual jeans, T-shirt, and baseball cap. This, I had set up. The next thing that happened, I had not.
Within the first 20 seconds of the meditation, as I cried, I heard… in my right ear... “I’m right here mom.” I heard my son tell me that he is right here. In my ear. I had imagined the beach and the rolling waves and the breeze. I had imagined the table and the chairs and Eric coming towards me. But I had not imagined him telling me that he was right here. That took me totally by surprise.
Peace, the peace that surpasses all understanding, was mine. I was surrounded by it. I was enveloped and held by this love. It was a gift from God and from my son. It was a glimpse. A connection.
There is no need to ever explain myself. I know what that was. Just like my friend knew what that scent was. Just like so many others whose accounts I have heard or read knew what that bird was, or that blossoming flower on an otherwise dormant tree was, or that hug while they drifted off into half sleep was, or that text that came out of nowhere was. We just… know.
This story is only one of dozens, probably hundreds, of connections I have had with Eric. They have all been recorded into many journals of mine. And sometimes, when I go back and read them, I am amazed all over again.
If you ever are
blessed with a special connection with a loved one who has passed, I encourage
you to not toss away the possibility that it really is your mom, your dad, your
sibling, your child, or your friend. Take that moment to notice how you feel.
Take that moment to test it in your heart. It’s not about what someone else
might say. It’s what you know to be true deep within. Chances are it is that someone
with whom you have an eternal connection.
(Read more about my journey from grief to hope in my books Look Around and A Bird Called Wisdom.)
