Lidia’s story illustrates how the connection between a mother and daughter continued in dreams long after the mother’s passing; and, how those dream visits helped Lidia feel loved and protected.

“I was almost 30 years old when my mother passed away in the early 1970’s from a very aggressive form of stomach cancer. Since then, she’s appeared in my dreams a number of times—often in the most mundane places. She might be sitting next to me on the bus, or making tea in the kitchen, or casually sorting through my collection of fabrics.

“We would chat, and she would always say that she knew she was passed from this world, but that she was simply taking opportunities to come back and check up on me. In one of the dreams, we actually went to another world together, saw ancient ruins and even some flying beings in the distance. That was a very exciting dream!

“Finally, after many years of visits, she came to me one last time in the early 2000’s. It happened one afternoon as I lay down for a nap on the couch in my apartment. Suddenly I, was overwhelmed by a golden light emanating from the folding white doors of my closet.

“To this day, I’m not sure if it was a dream or whether it actually happened. Regardless, I knew I had to pay attention. I could feel my mother’s presence, and I remember thinking: This is a very unusual way for her to make an appearance.

“At that instant, she stepped from the light into the room. As always, she asked how I was getting along and we chatted, as we normally would. Then, my mother said something totally amazing.

“She told me this would be the last time she would visit me, because she had a chance to be reborn—reincarnated into a new physical body. Instead of feeling upset that I wouldn’t be seeing her in my dreams again, I was delighted.

“We high-fived each other, hugged, and after a little more chatter—in which she assured me that I am, and always will be taken care of—she went back into the light and the closet doors became closet doors again.

“Since then, I have had one other dream in which someone who looked like my mother appeared, but I knew it was not her. I called this being out, saying I knew the truth about my mom, because I’d had that earlier experience. Immediately, the dream being morphed into something nasty before fading away. I found this dream to be one of my first ‘lucid’ dreams in which I remembered a previous dream and wove it into this one.

“This dream taught me not to doubt myself, nor doubt my mother’s message.

“I also learned through these dreams that soul and spirit may be two different parts of people—the spirit is forever, while the soul goes on in a different body and life.”

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The Meaning of Forever Project continues to accept stories of comforting experiences with loved ones who have passed on, and of near-death experiences that have helped to show the continuation of life beyond the physical body. You can email your story to us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com and you can find more about our project on our Facebook page, and our Meaning of Forever Website.

Bianca has suffered three great losses in the course of her young life, and these deaths have hurt her deeply. Still, she is buoyed by the certainty that her loved ones are still with her when she needs them.

In the second of two stories, Bianca tells how she and her mother escaped catastrophe on a snowy winter highway, and how she believes her departed Nonna and Nana had a hand in it. (See the first story in our post from December 10, 2017)

My Nonna (grandmother) passed away on December 8, 2006. She was an amazing, beautiful woman, and very special to me. From the time I was four or five years old, she taught me how to cook and sew, and we would spend a lot of time with each other. I was at my Nonno (grandfather) and Nonna’s house almost every single weekend, right up until she passed away.

Her death has been really hard on me, but I know that she is still here.

The evening after she passed away, the sunset was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. It was all kinds of reds, oranges, and yellows with the clouds that just made it so much more beautiful. I knew that was my Nonna telling us she’s at peace, and that she’s okay, and she’s still here.

Now, when I’m having a hard time, I sometimes smell her scent. I just know that it’s her, because I recognize the faint powdery, flowery smell. Sometimes I feel like she’s just giving me this huge hug. It’s like she’s saying, “I’m here, I love you”.

My Nana passed away on July 14th, 2010. She was a very good friend of the family, and she was truly like another Grandmother to me. Like my Nonna, she was a very special and beautiful woman. When my siblings and I were younger, she would often babysit us, and I remember always looking forward to it, because we would always have such a fun time with her. She was a kind, gentle soul who loved nature and animals.

In our backyard, we have an area of cement that leads out to the driveway. Beyond it, there’s a small area with patio stones, and the rest of the yard is grass. Shortly after Nana passed away, a single little pansy-type flower popped up between the cracks in the patio stones. It was a beautiful, bright yellow with a chocolate brown stripe up the middle. We searched all around to find other flowers like it, where it might have come from. We even looked in the neighbours’ gardens, but found nothing similar.

Also around this time, a small brown bird perched itself in the corner of my window outside, and it stayed there for about three days. To us, these unusual gifts from nature were a huge sign from Nana, saying she’s still here and that she’s okay.

The winter following my Nana’s passing, my Mom was driving both of us home from Toronto after dropping my aunt off at the train station. The highway was covered in snow, ice and slush, but traffic was still moving at between 90 and 110 kilometres per hour. It is a divided highway, and we were on a section that has four lanes going in each direction.

A big transport truck was in the farthest right lane, and we were in the lane next to it. The truck was kicking up a lot of snow and slush, so my Mom slowed down in order not to be so close. As she did, our car began to swerve all over the road. We almost went in the ditch, then spun around so we were now facing the oncoming traffic. Still moving very fast, our vehicle started sliding sideways. We were heading for a cement barrier, so Mom told me to brace myself, because my side of the car would strike first.

Then we said, “I love you,” because we both thought we were going to die.

But—suddenly for no apparent reason—our car just came to a complete stop. It was as if something stopped us. We were only inches away from the wall. Miraculously, at that moment in the middle of the day on a section of Ontario’s most-crowded highway, there was no oncoming traffic for miles. We sat there a few moments, just trying to process what had happened before Mom carefully turned the car around and continued driving us home.

Mom and I truly believe that my Nonna and Nana were with us that day, because there is just no other explanation for our car stopping like it did, when it was sliding at such high speed—then to have no oncoming traffic besides!

When things like this happen and others hear about it, they might say it’s just a coincidence that doesn’t really mean anything. But I truly believe everything happens for a reason.

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The Meaning of Forever Project continues to accept stories of comforting experiences with loved ones who have passed on, and of near-death experiences that have helped to show the continuation of life beyond the physical body. You can email your story to us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com and you can find more about our project on our Facebook page, and our Meaning of Forever Website.

 

 

 

“When somebody passes away, people often think that person is gone, and that they have to say goodbye,” says Bianca, “but I truly believe that’s not the case.”

Bianca tells stories of how she has known through the years that her departed grandmothers have been with her. She’s known it through their scent, a bird, a flower, through colours in the sky—and, even, through unexplained help that prevented a serious car crash.

But, this story is about how the shape of a mermaid and an abundance of butterflies have comforted Bianca and assured her that her best friend Aliesha is still with her.

“March 11, 2015, my best friend Aliesha passed away,” says Bianca. “She and I were like sisters…super close, and were always there for each other. We both had medical issues, so on rough days we would always vent to each other, knowing that we were venting to someone who truly cared, wouldn’t judge, and would really understand.

“In my room, I have the sewing machine that my Nonna taught me how to sew on, and that we would use all the time together. It folds up like a desk, so I often will do my homework on it.

“The day after Aliesha passed away, I was working on one of my school assignments, which was a painting, so I had all my watercolour paints and paintbrushes out, along with a small bottle filled with water.

“In the painting, I included a quote that Aliesha always would say to me: ‘We will fight our battles, and we will win!’

“At one point, I accidentally knocked the bottle over. When I stood to mop it up from the carpet, I realized that the coloured water was in the perfect shape of a mermaid sitting on a rock. This was very powerful to me because Aliesha used to call herself a mermaid. By that, I knew that my best friend/sister was still with me.

“I was given the huge honour of presenting her eulogy. As I was spoke, the lights in the funeral home flickered; and, after I finished presenting, the priest made a comment that Aliesha was definitely there with us.

“Aliesha and I always had some sort of contact. We lived a couple of blocks apart, so we would often hang out, but we also kept in touch almost every single day through text messaging, FaceTime, and Skype.

“Since she has passed away, once in a while my phone will go off as if I have a notification, but when I check, there’s nothing there. To me, this is definitely a sign from Aliesha, as if she’s saying, ‘He-y-y-y, what’s up? How’s it goin’?’

“Like my Nonna and Nonna, who I know are also still with me, Aliesha would call me her ‘Little Butterfly.’ Shortly before she passed away, she told me she would haunt me with butterflies. She has definitely kept that promise. During the warmer weather, whenever I look or go outside, I always see at least one butterfly. Even when I am at the mall, or browsing online, I will always see something that has a butterfly on it.

“I am constantly surrounded by beautiful butterflies; and, I hold this sign that Aliesha is with me very close to my heart.”

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The Meaning of Forever Project continues to accept stories of comforting experiences with loved ones who have passed on, and of near-death experiences that have helped to show the continuation of life beyond the physical body. You can email your story to us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com and you can find more about our project on our Facebook page, and our Meaning of Forever Website.

 

 

If you’ve been following The Meaning of Forever Project, you know our goal is to collect stories from people who’ve been comforted by experiences with loved ones who’ve passed on. We’ve shown you stories of people who’ve been visited by loved ones in dreams, who’ve heard their voices as they go about everyday tasks; or, who’ve seen, heard, felt—even smelled—signals that only they and their dearly departed would understand or think to use.

We’ve posted stories from people whose grief—and fear of death—has been lessened by the knowledge that Soul lives on, regardless of whether there is a physical body to contain it. And they’ve gained that knowledge first-hand.

But, if these accounts are true, why doesn’t everyone who’s lost someone dear have a story? Are the people who write about their experiences special somehow? Do they have an extra sense that others of us don’t have?

—Or, are they kidding themselves?

In How to Survive Spiritually in Our Times, Harold Klemp has some advice for those wondering if their other-worldly experiences are real. “A test of an experience is: if it helps you open your heart to divine love, to God’s love, then it’s a real experience.”

In his book Soul Proof, Dr. Mark Pitstick refers to experiences with people who have died as “ADC’s”, or after-death communications. “The receptivity [emphasis his] of those on earth is…a very important factor since being calm and open-minded improves chances of an ADC,” writes Pitstick.

He suggests “centering practices” that “quiet the mind”. He quotes spiritual leaders, psychologists, poets and others who recommend a wide variety of activities—including yoga, meditation, music, prayer and art—that can “temporarily turn down the brain’s chatter… [and] allow access to wonderful timeless moments in which we recall our oneness with Universe.”

In Spiritual Wisdom on Life After Death, Klemp suggests what he calls “a spiritual exercise for soul travel” that begins with a single word:

“HU (pronounced like the word hue) is an ancient love song to God. Before sleep, close your eyes and place your attention very gently on the Spiritual Eye (a point between and behind the eyebrows). Sing HU, and fill yourself with love.”

Klemp explains the feeling of love will give you confidence to go forward into the unknown. He suggests calling to mind a past occasion on which you felt filled with pure love. In another book, The Sound of Soul, Klemp says “Love opens you to its guidance, peace, healing of body, mind, and spirit, and to the highest form of creativity.”

In Proof of Heaven, Eben Alexander, a neurosurgeon whose near-death experience has inspired his life’s work, also writes about God and his overwhelming feelings of being loved and cared for. All three writers seem to agree on one basic principle: that we are all connected, that each of us springs from the same creator, who is sometimes referred to as God. Other names include Divine Intelligence, Sugmad, the Holy Spirit, Holy Ghost, the Great Comforter, the ECK, the Life Force, the All in All, or The One.

“We are connected as one through our divine link with God,” Alexander says. “Communicating with God is the most extraordinary experience imaginable, yet at the same time it’s the most natural one of all, because God is present in us at all times.”

Regardless of what we call this unifying force, at its very core it is love, says Harold Klemp; and, “Love is love,” whether we express it to God, to our loved ones, our neighbours, or “the flowers you watered today.” And, when we give love out through the exercise of singing HU, it is returned, he says. “This is the law of the universe… Love returns love.”

So… Perhaps it is possible for us to know that our experiences with our departed loved ones are real, simply by the love they awaken within us.

The Meaning of Forever Project invites your stories of how near-death experiences, or experiences with loved ones who have passed on, have comforted you and helped you to understand the continuing nature of life; that love and life go on, even after our physical bodies expire. You can learn more about The Meaning of Forever Project from our web site, or from our Facebook page. If you have questions, please email us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com Feel free to join us on Facebook, or by following this blog—and please share with your friends.

From time to time, The Meaning of Forever Project refers to writings of various authors as samples of how others view the continuation of life. These references do not necessarily constitute endorsements.

 

 

 

 

Vic tells a story of how his near-death experience resulted in far more than his own peace of mind about what it’s like to die; it led to a new, life-saving medical procedure, and it helped an anonymous nurse find the courage she didn’t think she had.

It all began with a routine colonoscopy. Vic was accustomed to the procedure, since he’d had cancer previously, and he was now required to have regular examinations to prevent it from coming back. On this day, the doctors found a polyp and removed it. This was not unusual either, says Vic. He’d had polyps removed before.

This time, however, something was different. A few hours after Vic returned home following the day surgery, he realized he was bleeding, and quite badly. It took some time for the hospital staff to realize how serious his condition was; but, eventually they began giving him blood—at the extremely fast rate of one unit every fifteen minutes.

What doctors and nurses didn’t realize was that Vic has a condition that causes his white blood cells to clump together when he receives a blood transfusion.

“I was dying,” says Vic.

“…I faded to black. Then I was sitting in a chair facing… (my) inner master. There was a white cloud around us and what appeared to be a highly polished black floor below.”

The following is the conversation Vic remembers having with the spiritual master he calls Wah Z:

Wah Z: Do you want to live or die?

Vic: I have never died in full consciousness before; it might be an exciting experience.

Wah Z: This is it.

Vic: (astonished) This is it?

Wah Z: This is it.

Vic: Well, if this is it, it’s not very exciting. This is just a shift of consciousness, and I do this just about every day when I contemplate.

Wah Z: Do you want to live or die?

Vic: I do want to live.

Immediately, Vic says, “I came back to the physical and opened my eyes, seeing the heart paddle just above my chest, and asked what was going on…”

But Vic’s adventure with life and near-death was not over. He was still in hospital with no obvious way to stop his bleeding. That evening his doctor stopped by to say with great regret that he would have to leave, because he promised his daughter he would attend her first piano recital that evening.

“I replied, ‘It’s okay, Ron. Family is very important. Go enjoy it. We said good-bye.”

But, later that night, Dr. Ron returned. “An idea came to me when I was listening to my daughter’s recital. Can I try it?” he said.

Having learned that death was no big deal, Vic was unafraid, even though he still had things he wanted to do in this physical life. So, he agreed. But, then came the next snag: Dr. Ron was going to have to insert a camera into Ron’s colon, so he’d be able to see where to put a clip on the part that was bleeding, and he needed a nurse to assist him. However, the nurse on duty declined to help because she was unsure about the procedure.

“I can’t do it by myself,” Dr. Ron told Vic.

Vic surprised even himself with what he said next: “Tell her…if she can live with the fact she watched a man die and did not even try to save him, and she is OK with that; then, I’m OK with that, too.”

Soon after, Dr. Ron returned ready to do the procedure. Vic watched on a monitor as Dr. Ron placed, not one but two, clips on the bleeding section of his colon.

“We all signed a breath of relief,” says Vic. “Since I had not seen or heard the nurse, I asked Dr. Ron to say thank-you to her for having the courage to do this and save my life. I thanked him as well for the creative solution that came to him during his daughter’s piano recital.”

A couple of years after his near-death experience, Vic was once again in hospital for a routine colonoscopy. Making conversation, he told a nurse that he almost died from loss of blood as a result of his last one.

“Why didn’t they put a clip on it?” asked, incredulous.

“Because I was patient zero,” answered Vic. “I was the first patient that procedure was ever tried on. Now it’s standard practice.”

Looking back on all that happened, Vic is grateful for the whole experience. “I think of how, when you throw a stone in the water, you don’t know how the ripples are going to affect others. This one incident of my bleeding colon has had a beneficial effect on so many others. I had the courage to risk a then-untried procedure that could have ended my life, because I knew that death was just a shift in consciousness.”

At the same time, because Vic said he was willing to die, a nurse found the courage that helped save his life.

Still, says Vic, while his experiences have enabled him to see more clearly than ever that consciousness—or Soul—lives on, no matter what the body, it’s important to keep everything in perspective: “As magnificent as that whole experience was, I can still whimper and cry with the best of them. But it’s okay to be human,” he says. “We all need rest points on the journey of eternity.”

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The Meaning of Forever Project invites your stories of how near-death experiences, or experiences with loved ones who have passed on, have comforted you and helped you to understand the continuing nature of life; that love and life go on, even after our physical bodies expire. You can learn more about The Meaning of Forever Project from our web site, or from our Facebook page. Feel free to join us on Facebook, or by following this blog—and please share with your friends.

It can happen that we become so caught up in our grief that we fail to see the signs our loved ones are sending to show us they are just fine in their new existences. Darlene tells a story of how a case like this played out after her dear friend passed away.

By Darlene Montgomery

Thomas Drayton was my best friend. We’d met during the breakup of significant relationships in both our lives. We’d both had a powerful spiritual experience and been left wandering and wondering about our direction. We found each other in San Francisco at a seminar for our church, ECKANKAR, and had been friends ever since.

To say that Thomas was an enigma would fall short of the wonders of his character. To describe Thomas, I’ll start with his one eye. He was blinded as a teen when someone had thrown a rock up in the air and it landed on his eye. So Thomas often wore a patch. But he saw more with his one eye then most saw with two. Thomas was a mystery to all, except his closet friends; and even we, sometimes, had trouble penetrating the mystique of his profoundly creative, spiritual character.

Throughout our years of friendship, Thomas and I traveled together, spent time on the phone, went to movies, cried, laughed, fought and shared our writing. Mostly I listened to the reams and reams of poetry my friend composed while he lay awake night after night. You see, Thomas hardly ever slept more than three or four hours. He had several books of poetry published throughout the years, all of a profound and spiritual nature.

Thomas was struck down by cancer suddenly one summer. It came on so quickly and it took him all too fast. Fortunately, I was able to say goodbye. One evening just before he died, I visited him in the hospital. I entered the room to find Thomas looking gaunt, with the signs of death on his face and body. His spirit, though, filled the room with light and a profound sense of God. Thomas became even more of the person he was as he surrendered his spirit to the divine.

That night, I found myself feeling awkward, as I sat in shock, staring at his face which had shrunk in the four days since I last saw him. I knew that he would be leaving this earth very soon. He asked me, “Are you shocked? Do I look like Lily did before she died?” A friend of mine had died just two weeks earlier from a long battle with cancer.

“Yes.” I said, and stumbled to ask him, “Will you give me a …”

“Sign?” he filled in. “Yes.”

I had to leave town for few days to attend a conference. I was filled with angst—even though, in my religion, we refer to death as “translation” because we see it as a transition from one state of consciousness to another. Even so, I wondered: What if Thomas translated before I returned? I didn’t think I could deal with that.

But he managed to hang on another week. I was able to see him one last time, although he was past being able to communicate by then. Thomas left his physical form on October 24, 2007 in the late afternoon, surrounded by family.

This was my first great loss of someone close to me through death (or translation) and I went into a profound state of shock. I waited for the promised sign. Days passed. A week or more came and went.

“I guess I’m not going to get a sign,” I thought.

A few weeks after that, I stumbled into the living room of my apartment after waking one morning. Lying on top of the small entrance table was a ticket stub from a play that my daughter had dropped. It had been there since the night Thomas translated, but in my grief, I’d left it, never bothering to pick it up. I reached down and started to actually read the words on the ticket.

“Crazy for You,” it said. In the left-hand corner was the word Drayton.

 Crazy for you. My eyes welled up with tears as I realized Thomas had given me my sign weeks ago, if only I’d noticed: The play had been produced by Drayton Productions, on Drayton Avenue in—yes—the Town of Drayton! The date of the play: October 24, 2007, the evening Thomas left this world for his journey to the heavens beyond.

So much like Thomas to slip that one by me. I laughed then, for the first time in a while.

I’ve kept the ticket. I love you Thomas. I’m crazy for you, too.

Darlene Montgomery is author of the Conscious Women Conscious Lives Series

And Dream Yourself Awake: One Woman’s Journey to Discover Her Life Mission through Dreams. You can find out more about her work here. http://www.lifedreams.org/

 

This story first appeared on one of our early Facebook posts.

Sometimes we receive assurance that our loved-ones live on after they have left their physical bodies; perhaps, in a dream or an encounter with a symbol that we know is meant just for us. Other times, if we are open, we can be given reassurance before we even learn they are gone. That is what happened to Ben one late summer day in 1985.

Ben, his wife and young children had recently moved back to Ontario following a remote posting with the Canadian Armed Forces. They were delighted to be in the embrace of their extended family again. Ben was particularly close to his uncle, whom they learned upon their return had an ailing heart that would require surgery.

One day soon after reuniting with his uncle, Ben was strolling to work in a particularly beautiful area, delighting in the beautiful day, the lovely view and in his gratitude for being reunited with his family. Here’s how Ben tells what happened next:

“As the sun warmed my face, I became aware that my heart had opened. Just then, I sensed a great lightness approach at lightning speed…and embrace me! Suddenly I was awash with the vision, smell and energy of my uncle. (It) rushed through me like a bright light with an enthusiasm containing…feelings of surprise, elation, love and happiness. As I processed these shining impressions (and) this wonderful energy, I continued on my way.”

Back at work, Ben allowed the experience to fade from his mind. Later that day, during a class he was teaching, his sergeant came to inform him that his uncle had died and that his family needed him.

“The remorse I felt was for the loss that my family was feeling,” says Ben. But, for him, “The messages I received during my Uncle’s departing embrace showed the way to freedom from sorrow and despair. This…enabled me to serve my family during the funeral with greater compassion, empathy and joy.”

Ben’s story demonstrates yet another way that we can be assured that death of the physical body is not the end—that the loving connections we have with our dear ones continue even after their bodies have expired.

If Ben’s story reminds you of an experience you’ve had, we would love to hear from you at The Meaning of Forever Project. You can join the conversation on Facebook, visit our website, and email us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com.

Please follow our blog and share it with your friends.

 

While an experience with a loved one who has passed on may be  profound, it may not necessarily be solemn. In this story, Lori writes about a light-hearted moment with her departed mother as she attempted to repair an important a household item:

“My mother and I were extremely close. I love and miss her dearly. I know she is never too far from me. She sends me signs all the time.

“I recall talking with her before she got really sick. She let me know that she was not afraid of dying. She told me that, when she was a little girl, she became quite ill and was pronounced dead briefly. She said death was not scary, it was peaceful and calming. I knew she was reassuring me that, when the time came, she would be fine.

“I asked that she send me a sign after death to let me know she was okay. She took on a mischievous grin and I quickly said, “Don’t you dare come as a ghost!” She laughed and assured me she wouldn’t. “I know you pay attention to your dreams,” she said, “so I’ll visit you there.”

“My mother visits me often, but dreams aren’t her only method. She had a wonderful sense of humour and continues to give us laughs long after her death. One of her favourite words was “toilet”. Don’t ask me why, it just was. She would say the word and laugh, then make you say it. She said it would just roll right off the tongue.

“One day, long after my mother’s passing, I had trouble with the toilet in my townhouse unit. Instead of calling maintenance, I decided to fix it myself. (My father was not a handy man at all, so Mom and I would often tackle repairs before calling in the experts.)

“This day, I was focused on the problem at hand, trying to figure out the issue and how I could repair it. Out of nowhere, I heard my mother’s voice: “TOILET!” it said. I started to chuckle. The voice came again. “Say it with me: TOILET!”

“I laughed. ‘Hi Mom! Look at me, I’m fixing my toilet! There I said it with you!’

“So, I was able to fix the toilet—and to enjoy an auditory visit with Mom at the same time.”

 

For millennia, we the living have known of heaven only what our scriptures and spiritual leaders told us. Conventional wisdom was that, once we crossed over, there was no coming back to tell about it. But, in recent decades, all that has changed. Now we have stories of near-death experiences, of children’s memories in times before they were born—of loved-ones who have passed away reaching out to reassure those they’ve left grieving behind.

So, what is heaven like?

In his popular book, Proof of Heaven, Dr. Eben Alexander tells of his experiences during the seven days he spent in a coma and tries to relate what it was like to be in the presence of God, whom he refers to as “Om”. Alexander has no compunction about claiming to have been in the presence of, and even in communication with, God because he says every one of us—every soul—has the capacity to do the same.

Alexander’s descriptions of heaven—or the “place” he visited while he was clinically dead—is not so much about a location with sensory detail as it is about consciousness.

“I never heard Om’s voice directly, nor saw Om’s face. It was as if Om spoke to me through thoughts that were like wave-walls rolling through me, rocking everything around me and showing that there is a deeper fabric of existence—a fabric that all of us are always part of, but which we’re generally not conscious of.”

Alexander returned to physical consciousness profoundly changed, with what he considers a duty to share his discoveries with others.

“I am especially eager to tell my story to the people who might have heard stories similar to mine before and wanted to believe them, but had not been able to fully do so,” he says in the introduction to his book.

In Memories of Heaven, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer and Dee Garnes collected vignettes shared by parents of small children who, in their childhood innocence, related memories of what it was like before they were born.

One mother wrote, simply, “My four-year-old used to talk about when he was in heaven before he was born, and when I asked him what it was like, he said it was all parks.”

A father was driving on the road with his three-year-old daughter when their conversation turned from the moon to heaven; so, he asked if she’d ever been to heaven. His daughter answered yes. The father said his own mommy was in heaven and that he was sorry his daughter never had a chance to meet her.

“Yes, I did,” said the daughter.

“What do you mean?” said her father.

“I saw her in heaven with God,” the little girl answered.

In our February 7, 2017, post Suzie wrote of a joyous reunion with her departed father and brother in a dream. They were happily farming the coconut plantation her father had only made a start at before he passed away.

“I believe a person brings his or her state of consciousness into the new world that they move into,” wrote Suzie. “Our aspirations are recorded in our transcendental selves and therefore are taken anywhere we go.”

In her book On Life After Death, Dr. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross wrote, “Dying is a human process in the same way that being born is a normal and all-human process.”

She wrote of her own experience, which she considered one of the stages in the process of crossing from this life to the next one:

“Having been born in Switzerland, I was allowed to cross a pass in the Alps covered with wild flowers. Everyone is met by the Heaven he or she imagined…”

In Spiritual Wisdom on Life After Death, Harold Klemp describes heaven this way:

“…As bright as the sunlight appears to our eyes, this physical world is a dark, small, mean place compared to the other worlds. You will see settings similar to those on earth, but larger and with a lot more light.

“There will be a lightness and spaciousness about the body that you wear there. Soul is once again wearing a body, but It is on a higher plane. It is so natural that generally you don’t give it a second thought. And you are always greeted by someone you know and love.”

Implicit in all of these descriptions is the value that knowledge of a life after death can add to our physical lives. Those who write of experiences with heaven see themselves as integral parts of something bigger, and the essence of that “something” is love.

Says Klemp: “For people who love truth and love God, it’s a smooth change. The key really is love.”

In his introduction to Imagine Heaven, John Burke, a former skeptic, says his studies of others’ near-death experiences have taught him to treasure his current life even more. And he adds this challenge:

“What if we became people who have a vision for the ultimate Life to come? …What if how you live really does matter to the life to come?”

The Meaning of Forever Project welcomes your stories of comforting experiences with loved ones who have passed on; or, of your own near-death experiences…encounters, perhaps, that have given you a glimpse of heaven.

For more information about The Meaning of Forever book project, please see our website (here), or visit our Facebook page (here). To send us a story or ask questions, please email themeaningofforever@gmail.com