We All Exist as Part of a Wonderful Stream of Life. ~Thich Nhat Hanh
I know in my heart and soul that death, as challenging and sometimes devastating as it can be, is a natural part of life. It’s what we sign up for when we incarnate. I’ve learned to lean into and trust the knowing that the soul has no beginning or end, that it goes on forever. Life ebbs and flows. Death is a part of the Divine Order.
I trust this process and trust in the Divine to get me through the fire of pain that naturally arises when someone I love leaves their body. Because of this trust I know I can call on my ancestors whenever I want, allowing me many sweet and loving visitations.
This is the story of three of those visits, three visits that strengthened my knowing and deepened my trust.
LoEdith Byrd Pasquale
1930 – 2001
Mom
In October, 2001, my mom died from emphysema (https://www.leebyrdmystic.com/2024/02/15/moms-fatal-attraction/). After her death my grief naturally felt as if my life had been suspended. Life didn’t make sense and I hurt. Meditating was the one place where I could actually rest. I lit a candle and some incense and sat. And cried. Lots and lots of tears. Meditation became my sacred space.
One morning, as I sat meditating, crying, feeling the familiar overwhelming sense of being lost in my grief, I suddenly smelled my mother’s perfume. It was so strong that I immediately opened my eyes and turned to my right expecting to see her. Of course she wasn’t there, but the smell lingered.
I finally closed my eyes once again and that’s when it happened, I heard her voice. It was so clear and real that again I opened my eyes, expecting to see her. She wasn’t there.
I turned my gaze to the candle, took several deep breaths and closed my eyes. Her voice was soft but unmistakable.
She told me this: “I know I leaned on you a lot. I expected things that were often difficult, things you didn’t understand. And I’m sorry you had to suffer because of these things. But you see, you are the strong one, you came here on a mission, that mission is to heal.
“Now it is time to do the work of healing yourself. As you do this healing work, past and future generations will begin to heal. You are strong, I know you can do this, it is your true purpose, it is why you are here.”
Then the voice and the smell of her perfume was gone. But I never forgot this experience. My life changed and my path has led me here.
Thanks Mom, what a beautiful gift.
Ralph Eric Pasquale
1957 – 2003
My baby brother, Ricky
During the winter of 2003, Ricky went hunting alone in the woods in Illinois near where he lived. It had been snowing for several days. He had a heart attack and fell unconscious.
When he didn’t show up for work the next day, his boss went looking for him. By this time, Ricky had been laying there barely alive for several hours. They managed to get him to the hospital where he was revived but by then, his body had suffered a lot of frostbite damage. Ricky would require several surgeries which would be scheduled over time to allow his body to heal as they went along.
Once his body was strong enough the doctors moved him from the hospital to a rehabilitation center so he could get round-the-clock care. Ricky’s body was beginning to heal.
I was thrilled he was on the mend and began to make plans to travel to Illinois to visit. As I was preparing to leave, he asked a nurse to call me. She put the phone up to his ear. I told him I loved him and would be on the next plane out. I asked him to hang on. He sounded tired, his voice was weak. We cried together for the next few minutes and then the nurse took the phone, and we hung up.
Less than an hour later, the same nurse called me again telling me he was gone.
The night Ricky died I had this dream:
I was standing on the beach where two large and powerful rivers were converging. I stood looking down at the convergence. To my left I saw Ricky standing alone at the shore, wearing only a pair of shorts, no shoes, no shirt, just shorts. He looked the same as he always had, his body tall, skinny, tanned, his mop of curly hair.
There was a slow gentle breeze, barely noticeable, but it felt good, warm, welcoming. Ricky held a rope in his hands that was attached to a small boat that was bobbing in the water just behind him. The river was swift but calm, no rapids. The azure blue water sparkled like a jewel.
I asked him where he was going and he said this was his solo trip. They were waiting for him.
“Who?” I asked.
“Mom, Grandpa and a couple others.”
I was crying and moved toward him. We hugged for the longest time. His body was relaxed and warm, my head rested on his chest. He was over 6-feet tall and at 5’5”, I was dwarfed.
Then he looked down at me and said it was time for him to go. I took his hand but he gently pulled away as he stepped into the boat.
The last thing he said was, “This part of the voyage is for me alone, you’ll have yours when it is time. Don’t cry, don’t miss me, I’ll always be near. I love you.”
He turned his back and the boat floated off into the converging river. It was as if there was a foggy haze that seemed to rise up and envelop him. Within moments he was gone.
Charles Craig Dawson
1924 – 2009
My beloved best friend, soul mate and husband
Even before he entered hospice in early 2009, knowing how much I was afraid of losing him, Craig promised me, over and over, that he’d find a way to let me know he was still there for me after he left his body.
Over the years when we walked together, I picked up things of interest to take home. I found sea shells, feathers, heart shaped rocks. The piles of treasures were endless. Craig teased me asking, “When do you think you’ll have collected enough?” And I always answered, “Never!”
Early in 2009, Craig spent about three months in hospice. He died from congestive heart failure.
After his death, when I walked I looked for signs of him. I found feathers, seashells, and of course heart shaped rocks. As I picked up these trinkets, I smiled knowing Craig was around.
One day, not long after he died, I walked through our little neighborhood. As I left our cul-de-sac I noticed my neighbor’s lawn seemed to be vibrating. Naturally I was curious, so I slowed down, never taking my eyes off the small front lawn. When I got closer, I realized that the grass was covered with dragonflies, dozens of beautiful, gossamer-winged dragonflies. I stood there a long time, mouth open, staring. Soon, they lifted up in unison forming a beautiful iridescent cloud, rising up and over the rooftops, disappearing into the trees and the sky.
Of course it was Craig.
I’ve always read that when dragonflies cross our path it symbolizes transformation, change, new beginnings. Well, that is exactly what seeing this cloud of dragonflies felt like to me.
These true stories confirm that the cycle of life and death is endless, the Soul never ends and the energy of those I love is always and forever around.
Dragonfly …
Breaks illusions,
Brings visions of power,
No need to prove it,
Now is the hour!
Know it, believe it,
Great Spirit intercedes,
Feeding you, blessing you,
Filling all your needs.
~Jamie Sams & David Carson
WOW so beautiful! Thanks, Lee!
Thank you my friend, I love and appreciate your kind words.