When a Loved One Dies

Chris, my fifty-nine-year-old son, left his body peacefully on May 9th, 2010, surrounded by his family members. He was diagnosed with lung cancer on April 11th. Over the next month, I was there as he went through the denial, fear, anger, bargaining, and acceptance stages.

On the soul level, he was aware that it was time to leave. Since the first of the year, he began disposing of his antique furniture and the discarding of his personal belongings.

His profession was dealing with antiques and refinishing the prized possessions of clients. At one time, he owned two retail stores and loved traveling around the country, going to auction sales to find pieces of furniture and artwork that he would display in his stores.

Whenever a client brought in a dilapidated piece that was ready for the burn pile, but he or she couldn’t part with it for sentimental reasons he was always able to ‘find a way or make it’ to bring it back to its original beauty.

There were numerous occasions when he would call me to come see a piece that he refinished. I recall one occasion, “Get over here. I just finished a piece that I really had to work at *‘to find a way or make it’, he explained.

When I arrived at his workshop that day he was like a kid. His excitement reminded me of the time when he was three years old and I let him hold a sparkler at a fourth of July neighborhood cookout. His eyes lit up and sparkled as he watched the sparks of energy shoot off the metal stick. Childlike he looked up at me so we could share this WOW experience together.

He had that same look as he stood there that day, watching and waiting for my response to his workmanship. I usually showed my approval and delight when the children were small by clapping my hands or yelling “WOW” or “Fantastic.” My memory bank seems to provide me with the special occasions I enjoy re-experiencing. That was one of those times; I shouted Wow, Fantastic, and clapped my hands as he stood laughing.

For the past two years, Chris was semi-retired from refinishing furniture and spent his time helping me with the bookkeeping, editing my stories, and mailing out the book orders that I receive daily. I gave him the title of Vice-President of Delta Sciences. As I began spending all my days charting Blueprints for people interested in their life purpose, he began taking over the daily house and yard upkeep. That’s when I gave him the title of A Man Called Friday. The title of another book I wrote is about a man who is a Jack of all Trades.

But when it came to playing our nightly game of Canasta, things were different. We both used telepathy with each other to get the cards needed to win the game. We always came out even.

During the last several days when Chris was in and out of his body I continued to communicate with him. There were two energies around him. I found their presence comforting.

The last time Chris’s son, Asa, brought him to the Center, Chris sat in the rocking chair across from my recliner, where we usually sit to “Solve world problems,” which I titled our chats. That day, he confided in me, “Mother, I’m ready to leave this worn out body, but I’ll try to hang on until the 11th to see how this plays out. Be assured I will stay in contact,” were his last words to me before he left that day to get into the car and go back to his place.

Chris found “his way and made it.” He left his body on May 9th, two days before the 11th.

*The poem ‘FIND A WAY OR MAKE IT’ made such an indelible impression on him; I recited to my children as they were growing up. I had to memorize it when I was in the 7th grade, attending a Catholic school taught by nuns. Sister Alberta assigned us the task of memorizing it on our first day. During the school year, she would choose one of us to stand up, repeat the poem, and explain what it meant to us. If we did not repeat verbatim, we were given a ruler chastising us in front of the class. The Poem:

There was a noble Roman in Rome’s imperiled days
Who heard a coward croaker before the castle say
“They are safe in such a fortress.
There is no way to shake it.”
“On, on,” exclaimed one hero
“Let’s find a way or make it.”

Yes, I’ll miss him. I know he is just a thought away but I am confident that we will meet again when I join my Group Soul Family that is gathered in the Seventh dimension.