Don’t get me wrong – I am not implying that ADC’s (After Death Communication, as they are known to people who research them) are a get-out-of-jail-free card from the universal experience of bereavement.  Far from it.  The constant sense of presence and energy did not last forever – it lasted for about two weeks.  But it did get me through series of experiences I never thought I would be able to face, the primary one being the funeral.

In light of the signs of continued presence we all felt the funeral seemed very unreal.  It didn’t help that she didn’t look anything like herself.  We didn’t tell the funeral director that she always wore her hair up and with it down she looked like a total stranger.  Even after he changed it, she still didn’t look like herself.  I managed to play harp at the funeral itself.  I never though I would have been able to pull this off!  I remember once, a year or so before any of this happened, my dad got sick and went into the hospital.  Mom was convinced he was going to die any day.  This was before we realized this was coming from an irrational fear inside of her and so we believed her.  She told me about this on my way to church one morning when I was scheduled to play at the 11:00AM service.  She got me so upset I couldn’t play one note.  Yet during a time when I should have been even MORE upset, I played the entire gig effortlessly.
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That first day, my brother John arrived in PA in the evening with his wife and they stayed in my parents’ house (after ventilating it thoroughly, of course).  My brother Bob was on the next plane out from California and I can’t remember exactly when he arrived, but he was definitely there – also staying at my parents’ house – by the third day.

I’d been up at my parents’ house every day since it happened, as more and more out of town relatives arrived.  But the morning of the third day I remember most.  My dad, my sister, and my two brothers and I were sitting around in the living room, right after I got there.  I noticed we all had the same goofy looking inappropriate grins so I broached the subject.

“You know, I’ve been having the most intense experiences of Mom’s presence the last few days …”

I’d opened the floodgates. Continue reading →

June 11, 2009

My mother had her knee replaced due to rheumatoid arthritis the week before Christmas in 2008.  It was a difficult decision for her and being a retired nurse, she was well aware of the risks with this surgery, and also well aware that she would soon end up in a wheelchair without it.  She was also beginning to experience memory loss and other signs of approaching dementia.  Her mother had Alzheimer’s and we believe that is part of the reason she decided to end her physical life at that time.  She was struggling with many paranoid fears, including being terrified of having to go through the experience of having my dad die.  Her passion in life was her garden, and due to the arthritis she could no longer work in her garden.  The straw that broke the camel’s back was the bad reaction to the pain medication they gave her after the surgery.  She was very ill for 2 months afterwards and never really recovered.  They put her on an anti-depressant medication.  One of the risks during the first few weeks of use is increased risk of suicide.  We do not know for sure if this was a factor.  If she was taking it at all, it was in small enough quantities to not register on the toxicology reports.

She first mentioned suicide to my dad during the worst weeks of this post operative illness.  She wanted him to go with her.  He made it clear that he was not participating.  She did not bring it up again and appeared to be slowly recovering.  We thought she had moved beyond this idea.  But she hadn’t – and it was obviously very well planned and carried out, and rather unbelievable when you consider she was in the beginning stages of dementia and could only get around using a walker!

I remember well the day before it happened.  She called me that afternoon – I was working on a batch of cotton bonnets for a local historical site (I make historical clothing).  We talked for a while – she sounded like her old self again.  It was a very happy, uplifting conversation.  The next door neighbor heard her sitting on the porch talking on the phone all afternoon.  She called practically everyone she knew.
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