Have you ever heard songs that triggered tears or generated goose bumps on your body from head to toe?
Has a uniquely familiar scent suddenly wafted by you in the most unusual place, conjuring up memories of a loved one who has passed on? Do electronic items in your home activate without power?
Have dreams featured a departed loved one brought back to life, in which you felt like you actually went somewhere with them only to wake up shocked that you are still in your bed and they are once again gone?
If you answered "yes" to any of these, good! You've experienced contact of the extraordinary kind.
The physical bodies die, but the souls of loved ones live on in new forms. They proceed to communicate in order to assist in healing, embracing life, and making it wonderful again. If so desired, departed loved ones can be with those among the living in everything they do. As they reveal through signals that the afterlife exists, their hope is that the living will venture forward in life and eagerly seek all that is yet to come.
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Connected Still ... Love Continues Beyond the Grave
A Collection of Visits from the Other Side of the Veil
By Margaret Cowie
Balboa PressCopyright © 2015 Margaret Cowie
All rights reserved.
* * *
For so many of us humans, "death" seems to be the end. Ever since I was young, I have believed in the Afterlife, a place where the soul doesn't sit on clouds playing harps or firing arrows to make people in the earth plane fall in love, but to continue on their mission in life — eternal life, that is. However, when my husband, Will, died so suddenly and tragically, healthy as an eighteen year old — or so his physician claimed — energetic, with grand dreams and goals to live out and accomplish, I questioned my belief. Death had never interrupted my life like it had then; therefore, it had never made me wonder about what "is".
Where do we actually go when we die? Does our soul live in limbo, waiting for the second coming of Jesus Christ? Do we suffer loss, and the emotional pain of it, as punishment for sins we have committed in this world? Are we left here to wonder why we had to be abandoned? All these questions made me angry at God. Living my life in accordance with the Ten Commandments, I believed I was "good" and deserved to have my life, or at least my idea of it, to fully play out — with my husband and best friend alongside me — basically forever. To me, "Until death do us part," didn't mean by age forty-four.
It is imperative that we sort through the many stages of grief — Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance — bouncing around from one step to another, until we can feel some sense of normalcy again. However, it is during that process that we fill with anger, resentment, sorrow, and oftentimes a yearning to leave this world ourselves. How do we hold on until we can get through it? Do we ever get through it? If so, how long does it take? The answer ... as long as it takes.
Faith in something higher than ourselves helps us to hold on during tumultuous times. However, it doesn't always fill that deep desire to know what happens when we die. If we died far too soon, and perhaps not in a peaceful manner, do we become ghosts and spend time stuck in the earth plane, haunting our loved ones to the point of creating hysteria? Is it true that when we die, all grudges perish and only love is expressed from then on? Does God really have our backs?
With so much pain and doubt and questioning, it seems impossible to believe that our loved one could possibly be around us. Besides, it's far too quiet for them to be nearby. There aren't any lamps being knocked over. The dog and cat aren't noticing any kind of paranormal activity occurring in the house. Lights aren't turning on and off by themselves. And, we don't "feel" them. So, how are we to believe that nobody died; they only left the physical body?
Even though we "know" that those who have died, transitioned to the world beyond this one, or crossed through the veil to the Other Side, are healed and whole and thriving again, we need to know they haven't left us.
Living in a physical world, this requires evidence. As they say, "The proof is in the pudding."
While grieving, our heart is extremely heavy, which pushes us toward focusing on our sorrow. Our loved one(s), now living in spirit, can be persistent in communication efforts, but because griefs energy is so dense, they cannot easily penetrate it. Oftentimes, when we think we sense their presence, we tend to analyze and use logic to explain any suspicion of them being with us.
I'm guilty of explaining far too many signals away — how awful for my husband. To have come up with some phenomenal tricks to convince me of the one thing that will save me from blocking my heart to life, revealing that he hasn't gone anywhere, and then have me deny them. It all began with the first physical evidence in 2009, and I still didn't "get it" until it occurred three nights in a row — right in front of my eyes and ears! Will found a way to make me believe.
While writing my memoirs of the happiest period of my life, a cathartic journey, I shed a river of tears, but also felt the memories help me to realize what a gift I had — knowing Will for twenty-two years. Just a few months into this process of writing, in the late hours of the evening, suddenly my computer printer went into a setup phase. Rollers turned, lights flashed, buzzers sounded, continuing for nearly two minutes. Sitting there, perplexed, I wondered what key my pinky finger inadvertently hit to trigger this. When it stopped, I resumed writing, as if nothing but a malfunction had occurred.
The next night, while I wrote at precisely the same time, the printer activated again. What a disruption this was to my momentum. When it stopped running, I unplugged it and continued pouring words from my heart into the manuscript.
Finally, a third night of writing, the possessed printer engaged itself and interrupted me again. What a nuisance! But then, I remembered that I had unplugged it the previous night. Though it took me a few seconds, I finally realized it was Will saying hello. Talk about excitement! This gift was the proof I yearned for. Will had left the physical body, but was still very much a part of my world! I rejoiced and THANKED him up and down, shed some tears of joy, and felt blessed to know he hadn't gone anywhere.
"Until death do us part," doesn't exist in the spirit world ...CHAPTER 2
A Kiss Good-bye
* * *
While lying in bed, around 2 a.m., floating somewhere between actual deep sleep and wakefulness, the man that I love, more than life itself, gave me a most beautiful gift. In my deeply relaxed state, I felt his hand slide gently under my neck and delicately lift my head ever so slightly from my pillow. The moment was so remarkable that I left this world for an instant, and allowed the fairytale to unfold. His lips passionately, but softly, touched mine and he lingered there for a moment, transmitting all the love of his soul and sending it through my body to my soul. After that brief yet magical moment, my head was slowly lowered to the pillow.
The fluttering of my heart, after such a display of devotion, caused me to stir until I fully awoke. To my surprise, I discovered that I was in my bed alone. There wasn't anyone else in the room and suddenly a bit of panic took over. I sprang out of bed in search of the prince who laid lips on mine in such a way to crave more.
The house was entirely quiet. When I called out to Will, my voice echoed off the walls that surrounded me. The illusion was starting to fade and reality replaced it. There was no one there at all; I was completely alone. Then, I revisited the memories of what happened only two weeks prior to this romantic, although brief interlude. Will had been killed, and the extraordinary life we created and shared died with him.
Feeling empty, I sat at the kitchen table and my heart sank. As I held my face in my hands, tears began streaming down my cheeks, pooling up in my palms. I was drowning in sorrow. My husband had been ripped from my life, leaving a despairing void in my heart. My life no longer had any meaning if he couldn't be a part of it. I cried and begged for him to come back. I promised God anything if He would only allow me to have Will back, to have and to hold, for eternity.
After some self-pity and a bit of time passed, I came to my senses. The earlier incident was not an illusion at all. My husband had come to say good-bye. I had experienced an after-death communication.
I was familiar with the concept of the ability a soul has once it leaves this world. Free from all restrictions of space and time, they can continue to visit our dimension and communicate with us. All that is required is having an open mind and paying attention to the different signals they send.
In my excitement of receiving my first visit, one I was aware of anyway, my day began to unfold with a little less pain. I didn't want it to be good-bye, but my heart was floating to some degree with the thought that he actually penetrated the wall of grief and showed me he was here.
A joyous energy was somewhat filling me and I had to tell someone. As luck would have it, my phone rang and my brother was on the other end of the line. We chatted a bit and then turned the subject to after-death communications, also known as ADCs. Having read many books about this phenomenon, this was right up his alley.
I told him my story in full detail and then he said, "Margaret, did you ever think that Will came instead to say hello?"
Those words changed everything about the experience! I hadn't thought of it that way. I was focused on the fact that he was gone. And since he was killed and we never got to say good-bye, I imagined that this was what he came to do. My brother and I continued our conversation and I was soaring on Cloud-9 as he made me see more clearly what Will's probable intent was.
Being only days after the sudden, tragic loss of my husband, I sank into despair. The shock was still in effect, but the aloneness created a space where my mind could take refuge and not participate in the journey of healing at all. My heart had been shattered into a million pieces and I just knew I could die, too, if I willed it to happen. I had read about people dying of what most agreed was due to a broken heart. It could happen to me. I could run from the pain and be set free from this life and be with Will for eternity. I would no longer be alone.
* * *
Days went by and no more delightful visits penetrated my melancholic world in this third-dimension. It made it even more difficult to want to go on living. Will and I had a plan. We talked about how we'd die together, most likely in a car crash, and never be without each other or have to face the pain that grief brings on. We were certain of it. Why did God let us down?
Each consecutive morning greeted me and I groaned. I was still among the living, except that I was only a shell of a body, with a mourning soul locked inside of it, hoping to die. During my lifetime, I had dealt with many trials. Therefore, I believed I had lived through enough tests here on earth, or purgatory, which was currently a more accurate description. I had no reason to live. I wanted what I wanted and there was no talking me out of it.
As I continued to beg God for mercy, my mind spun and created a way for me to exit the world. Carelessly, I was convincing myself that if I died no one would miss me, or at least not as badly as I missed Will. And better yet, I'd be out of my misery. My wish could come true — I'd be with my husband, best friend, and soul mate.
One day, while walking in the woods, spilling my guts to whatever invisible thing or being would listen, I keenly noticed the path abutted a river. I walked along its banks for years and it never had such a profound effect on me as it did that day. The river could turn out to be the answer to my prayers. Suicide through drowning would end my pain.
The warped world, into which my mind had entered, began to justify that perhaps suicide is yet another one of life's many tests. Who knew for sure, whether or not this was something a soul chooses to encounter, and then must prove to God that it can end its journey here on earth? This was all brought on by my despair and, though devious, it sounded like a perfect solution to my pain.
* * *
God had been working diligently right alongside me during all of my sadness, conniving and outbursts. He hadn't given up on me. Thoughts of suicide began to fade. The verse Footprints in the Sand had proven to be enlightening. Though I only saw my marks in the path behind me, they were indeed the footprints of God as He held me up during my blinding despair. This was validated with the magical gifts that began to unfold.CHAPTER 3
* * *
Since loss, my bedtime routine became lying in bed and speaking aloud to Will. Tonight was no different. I suppose it made the missing more bearable.
It had been two weeks since the memorable kiss and I needed him to return. A part of me still wondered if the experience was real or an illusion. Had despair set my mind in motion to create a hallucination to trick me? Another visit was the only way to prove to myself that it was indeed authentic and wipe the questions from my mind. As usual, my conversation brought me to tears. Crying soaked my pillow, making me have to flip it over to the dry side. The days were hard enough to get through, and then in the stillness of the night, I couldn't control the emotions leading me to cry. This part of grieving was almost as difficult as the actual loss.
Somewhere between me begging my husband to signal me again, and fatigue from the energy draining journey I had been thrust into, I fell asleep. My body was completely exhausted and almost dangerously underweight due to the stress of losing Will. It turns out that this was the perfect recipe to create an environment for him to sneak in and confirm that he was close by and still loved me.
A deep, trancelike sleep sent me into dream-state. Then the essence of incredible love was displayed to me in living color; like watching a movie. Will and I were clothed in formal attire. He had his military dress uniform on, including white gloves. I was outfitted in a spaghetti-strapped, burgundy velvet, floor-length gown, and also wore gloves extending beyond my elbow. The atmosphere was all so very elegant.
We were standing side by side at an honorable military function beside a table exquisitely decorated in white linens, fine bone china, with sterling silver flatware and crystal stemware. Highly polished, antique silver candelabras accented the elongated banquet tables, and sparkling crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. We were talking to one another while looking deeply into each other's eyes. At one point, we embraced and Will said, "I love you more than life. I hope you know this." As we hugged, we held on as if never to let each other go. The dream seemed to last forever. When I woke from it, I felt the joy from the gaiety of the party and the undying love Will presented to me flowing through my body. It was unmistakably a visit through the veil. I somehow instinctively knew we were connected still. Our love was as strong beyond the grave as it was in life. I felt blessed that he came through in my time of dire need for answers. He had come to show me that he was near with a hug, endearing words and, another kiss.
* * *
Even though, what I believe to be visits from The Other Side lifted me out of my despair, I found it difficult to stay afloat. As time elapsed, the life-raft that my husband delivered seemed to be deflating. An inevitable attack from the depression-goblins was always just around the corner. I'd fall prey to them without warning and never realize I was under their influence until several days went by. I'd stay in bed all day without even showering, dressing, or eating. I was caught in between two worlds; one of despair and desire to find an ending to my anguish, another of bliss with one foot through the veil in the comfort of my husband's undying love.
More time had passed and I lived day to day without any motivation to go on. My only hope still, was to die of a broken heart. I started documenting all my feelings in a spiral notebook I had labeled JOURNAL. My notes were filled with anger and vengeance against myself. I hated life and continued to beg God to take me. I guaranteed Him that I no longer had purpose in life. I had seen so much pain in my years, and in turn given so much of myself, and now this. What more did He want from me?
I'm sure God sent some angels to watch over me, because miraculously, I was practically taken by the hand and led to therapy. It wasn't that I was against getting professional help, I had turned to this assistance before. It was more like having my mind set to believe that I'd be happier wallowing in my misery until I died. Well, the counselor's door had opened and the inviting welcome sparked my curiosity. A faint light from hope was beginning to illuminate a path to healing for me.
Excerpted from Connected Still ... Love Continues Beyond the Grave by Margaret Cowie. Copyright © 2015 Margaret Cowie. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Healing Evidence, 1,
A Kiss Good-bye, 5,
Sweet Dreams, 10,
Paint It Any Color, 14,
Niagara Falls, 19,
My Love Shall Never Die, 25,
Grips of Despair, 31,
Anniversary Tulips, 33,
The Coat and a Compliment, 40,
Welcome Home, 44,
A McSteamy Anniversary, 48,
Never Gonna Be Alone, 52,
Watch Batteries ..., 56,
I Have To Work, 60,
Birthday Surprises, 64,
Despair Versus Printer, 71,
Hello, Who Is It?, 75,
Christmas Bouquets, 80,
Table 23 on January 12th, 85,
Anchored in Boston, 91,
Very Much Loved, 97,
Phone Ringing, 102,
Happy 50th, 104,
Christmas Runt, 109,
Will Presents ..., 113,
Good-bye Colorado, 117,
A Heart of Approval, 123,
To Soothe the Aching Heart, 126,
Spirit Loves Variety, 129,
Spiritual Awakening, 138,
Blue Light Special, 141,
Healing ADCs, 146,
"Fare Thee Well, My Honey", 152,
Love Never Dies, 156,
Author Photo Gallery, 167,
Recommended Reading, 175,