“Being a medium, I understand why we come here and when it’s our time to leave, but it doesn’t make grieving any easier,” says Rev. Louise Michaud, who writes about the passing of her daughter Chantal at the age of 29.

Louise is an ordained spiritualist minister, a medium and spiritual counselor among other things. So, when her daughter left the physical world a week following a heart transplant, Louise knew the moment it happened.

Even though she was driving through the rainy night, still a long distance from the hospital where Chantal lay, “I felt my daughter’s soul leave her body,” recounts Louise. “As an intuitive, I knew she had passed, but as a mother I hoped I was wrong.”

Alas, Louise was not wrong. But she says that, since Chantal’s physical death, her daughter has continued to communicate with her. One night she heard Chantal very clearly tell her, “Mom, you have to write my story to help families that have lost a child.”

So, Louise did. And she says she did it with Chantal’s help. The result is A Daughter’s Journey: A Spirit from Heaven, which was published in October, 2014.

In spite of even this close communication, says Louise, “I believe that what we miss the most about our loved ones is the physical part of their being; not being able to see, feel or hear them again in human form. Yes, we have memories, pictures, videos; but, not having them by our side can be devastating…”

That is why one of her most precious communications with Chantal was in a dream about a year ago:

“I was having one of my moments missing my daughter and crying. I spoke to her and told her how much I missed her, and that what I missed most was holding her, hugging and kissing her.

“That night I had a dream that answered my prayers. It was a vivid dream, so real I could never forget it. I know Chantal and I were actually together.

“She gave me the most wonderful gift a mother could ever hope for: She allowed me to hold her, hug her and kiss her. It was so real, so emotional, and it gave me such comfort. I woke up sobbing but at peace.

“Chantal’s life had great meaning. She had a reason and a purpose to come here, and I know in my heart she was able to accomplish what she came to do. She taught me to be more loving, more caring, and more compassionate toward others. These wonderful qualities we should all possess, to help us to learn and grow spiritually.

“Chantal is always in my thoughts, and I get great comfort knowing she is around me, guiding me. My love for her grows stronger every day.”

You can find out more about Louise and her book here http://messagefromspirits.com/adaughtersjourney/

If you would like to share your comforting experience with a departed loved one, please get in touch with The Meaning of Forever Project at meaningofforever@gmail.com

 

 The Meaning of Forever Project is collecting and sharing stories that demonstrate how death of the physical body is not the end; that, as soul, we live on, along with the love we have shared.

We might call these new states—where those who have passed are allowed to meet with others they have loved—heaven. Sometimes, those of us left behind are given a glimpse of this heaven so that we can take comfort in knowing our loved ones have life beyond what we see with our physical eyes. We hope our project will help others catch that glimpse.

By Dr. Joan Olinger

I am so blessed to have been born into my family. My Mom and Dad always modeled being loving and kind to all of life, our fellow humans, animals, and plants. Both of my parents grew up on farms, and they learned to cherish all life. For them, everything was aglow with God’s love. From their example, I learned a desire to bring comfort to others.

Part of the immense blessing of my family was that there always was an interest in the continuation of life after death of the physical body.

Mom’s brother Keith died in his sleep at the age of 14. The entire family was shocked and despairing. But, during this despair, Keith appeared to a younger brother, Duane, as Duane walked to the barn to do his chores. Keith was ahead of him, entering the barn too. Duane ran after Keith, but couldn’t catch up. He searched the barn but couldn’t find his brother.

Still, Duane’s heart was so deeply touched by that experience he decided to become a minister. And he did fulfill that dream, ministering beautifully to his congregation for decades. All of Keith’s siblings became very active in their churches, too. Keith’s brother Ken, also became a minister and provided wonderful loving care to his congregations. Keith’s sisters, including my Mom, also ministered to others in their own loving ways. Many were directors of Sunday school for their churches, choir directors, or otherwise very active in their faith.

My Grandmother, Ethel Voas, had been profoundly grief-stricken by Keith’s death and reportedly took to bed for four years. Then, one night she had a dream in which her son came to her. He was with the old family dog who had also passed on. The two of them were herding sheep, just as Keith used to do as part of his chores. He greeted his Mother and told her he was fine. He said not to mourn him anymore. This experience transformed my Grandmother’s life. She arose from her bed, no longer grief-stricken or depressed and began to write beautiful poems about the continuation of life. (See our January 29 and March 9 blog  posts for some of Ethel’s poems and the consoling letter she later wrote to a dear friend who also lost a child.)

My Mother, Mary Voas Olinger, was also deeply touched by her brother Duane’s experience of seeing Keith in the barn, and by her mother’s transformation after meeting her son well and alive in a dream. One of my Mom’s great interests was walking through graveyards and reading the headstones to learn about the people remembered there. She was also a keen reader of the books written by renowned author and speaker Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, and even had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Kübler-Ross one day after a speech. (See our website for book titles by Dr. Kübler-Ross and others who have shared her interest.)

This family interest in death and what happens afterwards extended to me as well. My Mom’s fascination influenced my reading from a young age. As a kid, I was reading books like Death Be Not Proud by John Donne and William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying. Then later, as a twenty-year-old, I read Raymond Moody’s book called Life After Life about near-death experiences.

Like my Mom’s brothers I, too, went off to University to become a minister. Mom’s stories about her brother Duane seeing his deceased brother Keith in a vision impacted my life too. My focus in University did shift from being a minister to becoming a clinical psychologist, but my interest in the possible continuation of life after death remained unabated. When I worked as a psychology professor, I encouraged my students to write papers about death and had a grief counselor come and talk with my class. Years later, I was also able fulfill my dream and become a member of the clergy in my church.

When my parents passed on, I also learned a tremendous amount about what happens before and after death. Shortly before my father died, he told my brother about a near-death experience during which he had seen the light and completely lost his fear of death.  My Dad was changed by this experience and became very interested in spiritual things. He went with me and Mom to spiritual events and had me watch spiritual TV shows with him. My Dad was so transformed by this experience that he even changed his name to John, which means “loved by God”.

On the evening we had the memorial service for my Dad, my Mom told me the story about how her brother Duane had seen his brother Keith heading for the barn in a vision. My Mom had dementia, and she told me the story many times that night. It was very important to her that I understood my Dad was not dead, but alive in heaven. Her telling me that story again and again was a great gift to me, and it eased my grief.

My Mom lived about three more years after Dad passed on. Her dementia became very severe towards the end of her life. I would phone her every night because I knew that, soon, she would not be able to speak. I wrote down every word she said, so I could hang on to it forever and cherish her words. I know if people had heard us talking, they probably would have thought most of it was nonsensical. But the love that flowed back and forth between us was very real.

I would tell her I was sending her a million hugs and kisses and would ask her if she had received them. She would say that they landed on her right toe and went all the way up her back. We’d both laugh. We would tell each other how much we loved each other. For the rest of the conversation, I would just say “yes”, “thanks for telling me about that”, “that’s interesting”, because I couldn’t understand my Mom’s words. But I surely could feel how much we both wanted to connect and share love. It was an incredibly special time. I valued every moment. I knew my Mom might soon become totally unable to speak.

For most of my life, I have been a workaholic. With significant embarrassment, I now write that I haven’t always made time for non-work things, like important relationships, because I always felt I would meet up with someone later. But this time with my Mom was an exception. I made time to call her every night. This was a time of incredible closeness and shared love between us. It was sacred.

Then a time came when I’d call my Mom, but the nurses couldn’t rouse her from sleep. I guessed that she was coming to the end of this earthly life and booked a flight so I could see her one last time. Before I could get on the plane, she passed peacefully in the night. I was devastated that I had not reached her before she died.

On that flight back to my Mom’s place, I was weeping and wishing I could have seen her alive. Suddenly, I saw my Mom in a vision. I had been uplifted in consciousness and was seeing Mom in heaven. She was beaming from ear to ear. She appeared to be in her 30’s, and she was healthy. Standing next to her was my Father, who also was also beaming. Mom’s parents were shoulder to shoulder with her, all of them radiant with joy. In the background, I could see other relatives coming to join them. I then knew that Mom, Dad, and my grandparents were alive, healthy, and very happy in heaven. This experience was as real as any I had ever had.

This experience transformed my life and inspired me to create a book of similar stories with my dear friend Ruth Edgett, whose mother had also recently died. We call our project The Meaning of Forever, and we are collecting stories from people who have had comforting experiences with loved ones who have passed on. If you have a story to share, please contact us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com

In the process of gathering many special stories, we have run into more bumps and delays than I had originally anticipated. I also became very busy in my work and began to wonder how much to continue with in the project. Then I went to a spiritual seminar and contemplated on my dilemma. I asked my inner spiritual guide what to do. He replied, “Do what you love, and love what you do”.

I spend a lot of time talking with people about their experiences surrounding death of the physical body. I love doing this, because it fulfills my desire to bring comfort to others who are grieving, and I know that working on The Meaning of Forever Project is one way to do that. It is a very joyful way for me to live my parents’ legacy. I am truly doing what I love and loving what I do.

 

 

Sometimes the greatest gifts from our loved ones come after they have passed on. And, sometimes, those gifts are unspeakable to others; they cannot comprehend the communication of feelings or wisdom contained in our private symbols.

Perhaps this is why most people who have comforting experiences with their departed loved ones choose not to share them with others. In sharing, they may feel their experience diminished in others’ eyes, or they may even feel ostracized. (See more on this from a previous post.)

This is what happened to 11-year-old Lynn when she tried to share with her school mates a precious experience with her mother at the moment of her passing from this life. It’s taken Lynn 49 years to find the courage and faith to tell her story again. Here it is:

“Mom was going to the hospital for minor surgery. It wasn’t supposed to take long.  It was November 1968. 

“She had been rushing around preparing all the meals in advance, cleaning the house from top to bottom, organizing cupboards and drawers, making sure we had every possible thing taken care of while she was away. She had even rallied the neighbours to support dad and care for my brother and me if the need arose. 

“It was a Friday at noon when she left for the hospital. We were about to return to school after lunch. She gave us each a hug and a kiss and told us she loved us. 

“On Monday night after an anxious day in school, dad told us the surgery had been a success and that mom was okay. We wanted to see her but, in those days, the hospital did not allow child visitors. So, we stayed at home while Dad went to the hospital with our hand-made cards and little, artful gifts. 

“The next day Mom called just before we left for school and told us she missed us, reminded us to be good for the neighbours and said she would be home as soon as she could, possibly by the weekend. My brother and I left for school feeling little lighter and happier. We had been through the worst and Mom would soon be back to take care of our every need. 

“That evening, when Dad announced he was going to see her, we insisted on going with him. Even though we knew we would not be allowed into her room, we wanted to be as close to her as possible; so we waited in the car, which was parked facing Mom’s hospital room two floors up. 

“An hour later, as dad emerged, he pointed to her window. In the darkness, we could see her standing there, surrounded by yellow light.  She waved, and in our excitement, we jumped from the car to be sure she could see us flailing our arms and dancing about. We sent waves of love to her as we formed a heart with our arms to show our love. 

“Thursday began with dad being late for work, which meant we were all behind. Dad left in a hurry, telling me to make sure my brother and I were not late for school. The house was upside down that morning. It seemed we had been able to hold it together, but now we were in overtime and the game was falling apart. 

“As I was about to leave the house, the phone rang. I wanted to heed Dad’s warning, but at the last second my curiosity got the best of me and I picked up the phone. It was Dr. Williams, our family doctor. He wanted to speak to Dad and wasted no time on niceties. I told him Dad was at work, and he gave strict instructions to have him return the call. My legs turned to rubber. I knew this was very important, that something was wrong. 

“I had never called Dad at work before, but I found the phone number and gave him the message. I told no one else about this call.

“After school one of our favourite neighbours was at the house waiting for my brother and me. She had already picked up our pyjamas and told us we would be spending the night at her home because Dad was at the hospital with Mom.

“This was a treat as we rarely stayed away overnight. We had a fun dinner and everyone was so nice. Too nice. I began to feel there was something really, really wrong. 

“At bedtime I was assigned to share a large bed with my girlfriend. Before long the house grew quiet. I could hear adults whispering in another room against the ticking of the clock on the night stand. 

“My attention soon went to the large window next to me. It was a night full of stars with a bright moon. There were clouds in the sky that floated by ever-so-quickly. I became mesmerized by the light of the moon that felt like it was shining down on my face. The stars seemed to twinkle and wink at me. 

“I became aware that the sky was talking to me. Then I opened my conversation with God: With tears streaming down my face, I cried as quietly as I could, because I knew God was making it possible for me to talk to Mom. 

“I asked her if she was okay and, just as I asked this, clouds covered the moon and the stars. When I asked again, the clouds moved off and the sky was clear. I felt a sense of relief. I continued to feel the light from the moon on my face. I felt so loved. 

“Then I asked God: ‘Are you telling me she is okay?’

“Now clouds moved in from nowhere. They covered the entire sky. I was overcome with sadness and knew without a doubt that Mom was gone. Through my tears I saw the clouds once again move off—this time leaving the sky lit up by what seemed a trillion stars. I saw the brightest moon I’d ever seen. 

“I knew this was God with Mom. I knew she was not alone, that she was happy, and that this was her saying Good-bye. I was filled with love for her and bursting with the knowledge that this experience was only for me. I was living this moment beyond the explainable. 

“I lay there on my side staring out the window for what seemed a very long time. When I looked at the clock, it said 9:43.  

“An hour or more later my brother and I were wakened, told to dress and return home. We entered a dark and empty house. Our neighbour told us to go back to bed while she went into the kitchen and put on the coffee. 

“My room was at the end of a long hall at the back of the house, facing the front door. We had been home for only twenty minutes or so when that front door opened. It was Dad with a few of the other neighbors. I jumped out of bed and began running toward him. He stood still as soon as he saw me. I stopped too. We both began to cry. I ran to him with my younger brother right behind me. He hugged us both and told us he was sorry but Mom was gone. 

“The house quickly filled up with neighbors, and my brother and I sat quietly while Dad explained that Mom had caught a cold on her way to X-rays the day after her surgery. The cold had turned to pneumonia and then double pneumonia. By Thursday afternoon she struggled for each breath. The strain on her heart was too much. The doctors told dad that she had a cardiac arrest and was technically dead but they were able to resuscitate her and—just as they thought she had stabilized—she had another heart attack. They could not resuscitate her a second time. All this had occurred at approximately 9:30 p.m. 

“This was my affirmation that my experience with the moon and stars earlier that night was, indeed, my direct contact with God. It was the greatest spiritual experience of my young life.

“When I returned to school a week or so later, my first assignment was to write a story. I wrote this one in hopes of sharing my wonderful experience. When I read it aloud to my Grade Six class everyone, including the teacher, went silent. Years later a good friend told me how much my story had scared her and many of our classmates. 

“I wrote the story again in Grade Eight and, after reading it, my teacher told me she was concerned that I was introverted and that I spent too much time alone. The wonder of my experience was lost on all of them.”

All the same, says Lynn, that experience profoundly affected the way she has lived her life since.

Recently, while taking part in a spiritual study group, Lynn came upon a quote from a spiritual teacher that said sometimes we procrastinate out of fear. This struck her as timely, since she had been planning to contribute her story to The Meaning of Forever Project but had been putting it off.

 Finally, though, Lynn was able to find the courage and the trust to share her story once again. We’re glad she did.

 If you had a special spiritual experience with a departed loved one that you’ve felt timid about sharing, please consider sharing it with us. Here, you will find others who have had similar experiences, perhaps felt similar fears, but who have found that in the remembering and telling of their stories, their lives have been made that much richer.

 To find out more about The Meaning of Forever Project, please see our Website, our Facebook Page and take a look at previous posts on our blog. Feel free to email us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com

 

 

As my mother neared the end of her time on earth, she became steadily more confused. 

She had been a devout Christian all her life, but I had taken another spiritual path. We had talked about this often, she comfortable in her beliefs and I in mine. But, as her time grew shorter, she seemed to be searching.

When I would take my place by her bed and pick up her hand, she sometimes asked, “Will you be there when I wake up?”

I did not know how to answer, because it was not clear if she meant that she wondered whether I would still be in the room if she dozed off and came awake again; or, if she meant something deeper, like would I be there when she “woke up” on the other side of life?

Not wanting to make a promise I couldn’t keep, I would answer, “I hope so,” and leave it at that. But, her question worried me.

Even though she’d lived more than 90 years within a religion that teaches eternal life and the eventual rewards of Heaven, I sensed that my mother was beginning to doubt whether she would see those rewards.

Many years previously, I had explained my spiritual path to her, and how I believe that each of us is an individual Soul, an eternal spark of God, and that the most important part of each of is is not the body but that Soul.

“I don’t have a soul,” I had told her, “I am a soul.”

So, as Mom’s days on earth neared their close, I struggled with a way to help her feel more comfortable with the idea of passing over from one kind of life to another. Her question, “Will you be there when I wake up?” stayed with me. Why couldn’t I help her peacefully face the end of her life?

At home, the night before she closed her eyes for the last time, the answer came in the form of a short verse. 

The next day, my sister and I sat with Mom as she drew her last breaths. My words had come too late to help her while she was still in a conscious state, but as I took my place beside her after she stopped breathing, I was able to recite those words:

 

We will walk together

Across that border

And I shall have your hand

 

We will be unafraid

For there will be great love

And wonderful light

 

You will be met by those who have gone before

 

They will enfold you

And show you your life

Like a map

Lain out at your feet

 

And you will know

Why you lived

And why you died

 

And who you must be from now on

I cannot say for sure whether Mom could hear those words, or whether they meant anything at all to her. I do know that, between the time that she stopped breathing and the time the nurse arrived to make her passing official, Mom’s eyes fluttered open for the briefest of moments, as if she were saying she’d heard.

Later, as we planned her funeral, my sister suggested that verse be included in the service, and so it was. Whether it comforted Mom on her way out, or whether it comforted others coming to mark her passing, I cannot say. But I know it comforted me, and I know that she woke up to a fine welcome on the other side of that border. 

To share your story with The Meaning of Forever Project, please email us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com 

Learn more about The Meaning of Forever Project on our Web Site, or on Facebook. Please click the “Follow” button on the right and feel free to share with your friends.

Some say that love can bring souls together in life after life. If we believe animals are soul, too, this must hold true for them as well.

Meaning of Forever contributor Mary tells how she and her beloved dog Grover, a Golden Retriever mix who was terminally ill with cancer, agreed to meet again once his physical life was finished.

Mary tells their story this way:

“We loved each other deeply and I wanted to know, if he decided to come back to me in a different form, that indeed it was him.”

Grover and Mary, who is a trained massage therapist for small animals, agreed on a signal—something that passed between them often: “He frequently placed a paw gently on my right cheek and looked into my eyes,” writes Mary.

About two years after Grover’s passing, Mary had a feeling that, either Grover had returned to this world, or he was contemplating a return. Meanwhile, a young girl in the local 4-H Club was raising a litter of puppies. They were Morkies, a cross between Maltese and Yorkshire Terrier, which Mary says she found adorable.

“The girl sent me pictures of the puppies and I determined which one of them I strongly felt was Grover,” recalls Mary. “When I arrived at her house, the puppies were outside playing and I spotted the male puppy I thought was Grover. I was so happy. But when I picked him up, there was no feeling of affection or love between us. In fact, the puppy couldn’t wait to get out of my arms!”

This set Mary back: “How had I been so wrong about my feelings and intuition?”

But, then…

“As I sat in the grass contemplating what had just happened, one of the other puppies came running up, jumped into my lap, placed her paw on my right cheek and looked deeply into my eyes,” writes Mary. “Grover was back!”

Since Mary took her new puppy, Shaley, home they have developed a routine: “Every night before retiring, Shaley and I lay down together, I look into her eyes, and we speak to each other.”

When this routine first began, Mary would tell Shaley about her memories of when Shaley was Grover.

“After the fourth or fifth night of doing this, she told me in no uncertain terms that while she knew I loved her as Grover, she was now Shaley—here for new experiences—and did not want to be pulled back into that old consciousness.

“She wants me to see her for who she is now,” says Mary.

At The Meaning of Forever Project, we would love to know about uplifting experiences you’ve had with people or pets who have passed on. Learn more about us at The Meaning of Forever Project website, or send us an email at themeaningofforever@gmail.com

 

In September, 1962, Ethel Voas wrote to Hattie, whose young son had died. Ethel knew well the long and debilitating grief this kind of loss could bring—but she also knew the joy and relief of a dream in which her son reassured her he was well and happy in his new life. She shared that experience in words of comfort to a friend:

Dear Hattie—and your sorrowing family:

    I am writing because I cannot come in person and while you scarce have time now to read, lay this aside until the sad duties are finished, as smoke clears following battle. Then is when the hurt grows too heavy to bear and one asks why? Only two years have elapsed, when the grim-reaper takes a heavier toll—so young he was! So beautiful! So full of promise!

     29 years ago, it happened to us and I grieved four years when, in a dream, Keith “came home”. He was driving a large herd of beautiful sheep. The old dog was with him, and in overwhelming ecstasy I could not move but begged all the others to hasten to him.

     I was suddenly caught up into the blue of heaven, then I awakened.

     I could not believe it was a dream though the clock ticked, the dappled moonlight made shadows upon the wall. This was Reality and my grief left completely.

                Perhaps you remember Ethel from her poem “Faith” in our blog post of January 29, 2017. Following that vision of her son, Ethel was inspired to write “Faith” and a few more verses. This one she kindly shared with her grieving friend Hattie.

I cannot understand

The whys and wherefores of a thousand things

The crosses, the annoyances, the daily stings

I cannot understand

But I can trust, for perfect trusting, perfect comfort brings

I cannot see the end

The hidden meaning of each trial sent

The pattern into which each tangled thread is bent

I cannot see the end

But I can trust

And in God’s changeless love I am content

©Ethel Voas, 1962

The Meaning of Forever Project is compiling a book of comforting experiences with loved ones who have passed on. If you have something to share, please contact us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com You can learn more about us from The Meaning of  Forever website (here), and from our Facebook page (here). Please be sure to follow our bi-weekly blog by clicking “Follow” at the right of this post.⇒

Can dreams and visions give insight into an afterlife?

Have you ever dreamed of a loved one who has died? Have you felt that, just maybe, he or she is still around in your waking life? Maybe you’ve never mentioned it to anyone, because you don’t want to be told you’re not moving on from your loss the way you should.

Well… You might be interested to know that scientists and academics are proving that experiences like yours deserve attention and respect.

When psychology student Joshua Black’s father died suddenly a few years ago, Joshua began having dreams with him that later inspired his research into what he calls “Grief Dreams”. You can see our blog about Joshua’s personal story here. Now a PhD candidate at Brock University in St. Catharine’s, Ontario, Black maintains a Facebook page (see it here) that encourages others to share their Grief Dreams, and to use them as a way to help them through their loss.

Black discovered that 75% of the 250 people who participated in his research study had dreams of departed loved ones. Further, 77% of them felt those dreams helped with their grief. Even so, says Black, he’s found that many people don’t talk about their Grief Dreams, even with friends or relatives.

“They don’t want people to tell them they aren’t grieving properly, that they aren’t over the loss,” he told the Hamilton Mountain News last spring. “They don’t want them changing the meaning of the dream.”

Black’s Grief Dreams Facebook group is one way he provides a safe space for the bereaved to share their dreams and to feel assured that their experiences are valid. The group welcomes dreams of departed animals as well as humans.

But Black is not the only academic interested in dreams of the dead. At Hospice Buffalo in Cheektowaga, New York, the Palliative Care Institute is studying the way dreams and visions of departed loved ones affect people who are dying. Led by Dr. Christopher Kerr, these researchers have identified several types of what they call ELDV’s (End-of-Life Dreams and Visions) and concluded these experiences comfort dying patients and help reduce their fear of death. You can click here to see Dr. Kerr’s TEDx Talk about his research and what inspired him to get started.

From interviews with 59 terminally-ill patients, researchers found that 88% had at least one dream or vision (as distinct from hallucinations, which would be characterized by confusion, fear and high anxiety). Ninety-nine per cent of the patients believed these experiences were real. As death approached, patients said comforting dreams of deceased loved ones—including pets—became more common.

But many of these people, too, were reluctant to share their experiences for fear of being thought mentally incompetent.

Nevertheless, say the researchers, these ELDV’s need to be accepted as a valid part of the dying process for terminally ill patients. An article on the Hospice Buffalo website quotes Pei C. Grant, PhD, Director of Research for the Palliative Care Institute:

“The study clearly indicates these dreams and visions are a profound source of potential meaning and comfort for the dying…” he says. “Participants in the study overwhelmingly indicated their dreams and visions lessened the fear of dying, gave them comfort and made the transition from life to death easier.”

At The Meaning of Forever Project, we are pleased that the work of scientists and academics is moving toward something our contributors already know: That the bond of love between souls does not die with the physical body; that life continues after the human shell is finished—and that this continuation of life and love is what gives true meaning to the word “forever”.

If you would like to share an experience you’ve had with a departed loved one—whether in a dream or in some other way—we would love to hear from you. Just email us at themeaningofforever@gmail.com 

By Suzie Kurz

When my father died of a heart attack, even if I wanted to go home to the Philippines, I couldn’t.

I sorrowed painfully, remembering how my father worked all his life, striving so hard on our farm with a primitive single plow, pulled by a carabao (water buffalo) day in and day out, to ensure that all his eight children finished university in order for them to have a better life and make a difference in this world. I remembered how he taught us to respect resources and how he strove to save every penny for our education.

But Fred, my husband, and I had just started building our dream home in Toronto. It was to be a passive solar house, and we were the contractors for the first time. We were new to this venture and needed to be together to make all the decisions regarding the construction.

A few weeks after my father passed away, while asleep, I had an experience in another world. I found myself on a beautiful coconut plantation. Tied between two coconut tree trunks was a hammock where my father was lying comfortably and swinging gently with the breeze. Surprised and elated I ran to him with tears rolling down my cheeks.

He said, “Oh, you are here! I’m fine. Don’t cry.”

I said, “I am so sorry I couldn’t come home to be with the family at your funeral.”  I hugged him.

He said, “Look around, see my beautiful coconut plantation.”

When my father was still living in this physical world, he started planting coconuts but he only managed to plant a few trees before he departed.

Suddenly, I heard a chugging sound of a tractor, I turned and there was my brother Carlos, who had passed away two years earlier. I ran to him. Seated high on his tractor wearing a wide brimmed straw hat and looking down at me with a winsome smile said, “See, I told you, I will join papa to do farming one day, and here we are!”

The scene slowly faded away and I woke up. But that experience was so real, I cried with joy. It remains vivid to this day, nearly 40 years later. I always knew that life continues after the physical body dies. This experience with my father and my brother proved that.

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

I am truly grateful for this experience.

© Suzy Kurz, 2017

Perhaps Suzie’s story reminds you of an experience that helped reassure you that your departed loved one has not truly “gone”, just moved on to another existence. The Meaning of Forever Project is collecting stories from people like you. Our aim is to demonstrate, through your stories, the continuity of life; that neither life nor love ever ends. See more about The Meaning of Forever Project here. To see more stories like Suzie’s, subscribe to our Blog by clicking the button to the right of this story, or go here to see previous posts.

At The Meaning of Forever Project, we were privileged to received this poem among the writings of a long-dead grandmother, who found faith in a dream-vision she had of her departed son. He had died in an accident, and grief over his lost confined her to bed for four years. But a dream of her son in a new life brought her back to life, too, and eventually inspired this poem called “Faith”.

The Meaning of Forever Project is compiling a book about comforting experiences with loved-ones after they have passed on. Find out how you can contribute. You can contact us by email, or through our website.

Welcome to our new blog! And Thank You for contributing to the Meaning of Forever Project–or for considering contributing–or for just being interested! We thought the best kind of thank-you might be an update on our progress. To keep up with what we’re doing, please click “Follow” on the right of your screen. We will be periodically posting adaptations of stories and poems, along with any bits of wisdom we happen to gather along the way. Please feel free to share these posts with others who might be interested.

As you know, the aim of The Meaning of Forever Project is to create a collection of stories from people like yourselves who have had experiences with departed loved-ones—human or animal—that have helped you heal and move forward in your grief.

You have sent us stories and poetry about children, siblings, spouses, parents, grandparents, relatives, pets and friends who have been able to communicate with you, even after death of their physical bodies. They have shown you that they continue happily in new worlds of existence—and that their love for you also continues.

You have described dreams, visions, auditory signals, lights, music, surprising feelings and insistent nudges. You have seen your loved ones represented by song birds, birds of prey, butterflies, animals, coins, phone calls, noises and music, and a host of other means.

You have given us accounts of unusual occurrences at the time of death, dreams and visions following death, continuing daily-life connections through such things as auditory and visual “jokes” that only you and your loved ones would know. Sometimes, your loved-ones have even stopped by to say you would be seeing less of them as they move on to other worlds or prepare to be reincarnated. You have written of your own near-death experiences that helped you lose your fear of death, or confirmed that you have lived before.

Always rising above the individual stories is the sense that, for everyone, life and love continue beyond this physical realm; that death of the body is not the end, only the beginning of a new existence.

And now, even with the wonderful collection of poetry and stories you’ve given us, we are still looking for more. We are seeking stories from all countries and cultures. In particular, we would like stories of reincarnation, near death experiences, and how life-threatening illness has helped overcome the fear of death.

We are also seeking stories that show how a continuing connection with a loved-one has inspired you to make positive changes in your life, big or small. So, if you have another story to send us, please feel free to do so. If you know someone else who may have a story, please pass on our website and Facebook addresses, this letter, or even a copy of our brochure, which is attached here as a PDF file.

We are happy to work with anyone who has a special story to tell and the will to tell it. We do not ask for prize-winning writing, only true stories told from the heart.

As we continue compiling The Meaning of Forever, the book, we may be contacting you about further preparing your individual story for publication. We may also ask you for permission to adapt the story for our blog. You can see examples of similar adaptations in the posts at the right-hand side of our homepage.

We have been pleased and honoured in the past year to be introduced to Joshua Black. He is a Ph.D. candidate at Brock University in St. Catharine’s, Ontario, who is making a study of “grief dreams”, dreams people have had of their deceased loved ones. Joshua writes of a series of dreams with his father that inspired his current study. His story is featured on our blog under “A Father’s Dream Inspires His Son’s Career”. In August, we were pleased to be guests on Joshua’s “Grief Dreams Podcast” and you can find our interview for Episode 6 here.

We also teamed up with author, speaker and bereavement coach Marybeth Haines, whose beloved cat inspired her in a career to help people deal with grief over their pets. She has established an organization called “The Power of Pets”, and at the bottom right of her home page, you can find a story called “Horses of a Lifetime” that Ruth shared with Marybeth’s online community.

We are happy to say that, while we might have liked it to come together more quickly, we are confident The Meaning of Forever Project is unfolding as it should. Your contributions are making this possible, and we are forever grateful to you.

With Love & Gratitude Forever,

Joan Olinger and Ruth Edgett

The Meaning of Forever Project

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