My father, his spirit is with me constantly, and I'm a believer in that world and the world of dreams and that stuff.
If we have loved well while we were alive, there is life after death here-our love will go on for generations.
I felt my father's presence with me, helping me to commit to paper the feelings I had. I really heard my father speaking to me from the other dimension.
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
I prayed for all his dreams to come true. I prayed that I would always be able to connect with him--even if I was no longer on earth.
Death cannot touch the higher consciousness of man ... it can only separate those who love each other so far as their lower vehicles are concerned; the man living on earth, blinded by matter, feels separated from those who have passed onwards, but ... there is no such thing as Death at all.
Our beloved ones have not 'gone to a far country.' It is only the veil of sense that separates them from us, and even that veil grows thin when our thoughts reach out to them.
Once people are not here physically, the spiritual remains. We still connect, we can communicate, we can give and receive love and forgiveness. There is love after someone dies.
I'm helping the living by letting them know the spirits are here talking to us. And helping the dead by giving them a platform.
We are not alone. Even now there are thousands of beings in heaven watching what is going on down here—a ‘great cloud of witnesses,’ the Scripture says. It reminds me that there is so much more to our existence than what we can see. What we do reverberates through the heavens and into eternity.
I feel more and more as if time did not exist at all... only various spaces interlocking according to the rules of a higher form of stereometry[the geometric measurement of solid bodies], between which the living and the dead can move back and forth as they like, and the longer I think about it the more it seems to me that we who are still alive are unreal in the eyes of the dead.
For reasons of sentiment, I would like part of my ashes to be mixed up with Mama's, and both her ashes and mine put side by side in the columbarium. We were joined in life and I would like our ashes to be joined after this life.
You never find peace in this realm, but it's okay, because when my dad went to the other side, he looks after me now better than he did in life. He is with me all the time.
Oh, I believe that there is no away; that no love, no life, goes ever from us; it goes as He went, that it may come again, deeper and closer and surer, and be with us always, even to the end of the world.
Communication with the dead is only a little more difficult than communication with some of the living.
The souls of all our brethren are ever hovering about us, craving for a caress, and only waiting for the signal.
I thought of the priest who'd told me that many religions hold that it is easier to be closely connected to people we love after death than before.
The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
May we two stand, When we are dead, beyond the setting suns, A little from other shades apart, With mingling hair, and play upon one lute.
I do feel my loved ones that have passed on; I feel them looking over my shoulder... So yeah, that's pretty profound, when you're not expecting it, you didn't particularly believe in it and then it just sort of happens too often to ignore.
I will come back as a little breeze. You will feel me on your face, and you will know that I am still listening. So you can still talk to me.
