Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Life After Death

Life After Death

After physical death there's an inherent part of the human psyche to believe that the soul, or its
equivalent, goes into another realm of being. From earliest childhood I saw beings from other worlds in dreams or with an inner sight. When I got old enough to attend school, the nuns and Jesuits replaced those visions with stories of heaven, hell and purgatory. Stories of spirits were drummed out of me. It took many years to unravel that indoctrination and resurrect the more real imagery of my childhood.

I was 25 when my grandmother "Bobo" died. Two weeks after her passing she appeared in what I thought was a dream. Except I'd opened my eyes and she was standing there in a long white gown next to my bed. She took an object out of her pocket and handed it to me. I said "It's the number 8. She said, "Turn it on its side." The message for "infinity" was clear. In April on her 88th birthday, her daughter, my Aunt Polly, died. As I wrote the numbers 88, the hair on my neck stood up with the coincidence of Bobo's infinity message.

Polly was my hero from the age of 12. She was an independent woman who did things her way. She drove a green convertible MG sports car before graduating to a big truck. She built things. She rode motorcycles. She loved fished and boating. She was All City and All State in softball and basketball. She traveled and camped in a van all over the country with her life partner. Diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 40, she told the surgeon she'd survive. She did for 48 more years until she was felled by a stroke.

Our family gathered for her funeral in Jacksonville. Most of her contemporaries had already passed on so it was a small gathering. I wanted to be alone with her for a few minutes so
waited until all the visits, tributes and accolades were over before entering the little chapel. I was now alone with her in the now dim room. 

I stood in front of the casket to thank her for the influences she had in my life; for the role model she represented to me as a strong, proud and independent woman; for teaching me to drive in her MG; and to water ski on my first try. (It helped that she told me alligators were in the river.)

I told her I didn't want to see her frail condition as she died, but would stand with Janet, her life partner, and the family in saying goodbye. Finally I said, "I love you Aunt Polly." The moment I said those words, I love you Aunt Polly, a white flower in the large flower arrangement that was on top of her casket fell. In slow motion, the flower hit the casket, bounced off, and came to rest on the floor in front of me. Intuitively I felt her, knew she'd heard me, and this was her message back to me. It was the only time I shed tears.

I went out to find the family and tell them what had just happened. They asked where was the
flower. I said on the floor. They insisted we go back and get it. As we walked into the chapel two men from the funeral home were wheeling the casket out a side door. The only thing left where the casket had been was the white flower. It now sits on our altar.

The following night I had a dream about Aunt Polly. She was dressed in a white summer dress. Her hair was curly and short. She was about 35 and looked radiant. She was "hosting" a memorial service for everyone at a swank white restaurant. Then she whispered to the family members, "Let's get this thing over with so I can change into shorts and a T-shirt. I'm going fishing then we're going to eat at a real Fish Camp." With those words, I knew Aunt Polly was just fine and had survived Life After Death!

                                                                                           Jo Mooy - May, 2017