Sunday, 13 August 2017 01:15

Oh, That Smile Gives it Away!

Written by

The alarm went off way to early.  A 5:25 a.m. flight time is way too early as well.  Curbside check-in wasn’t even available prior to 5:00 in the morning and checking bags was pretty much ridiculous as what used to be done for us, we (the consumer), had to do for ourselves.  Meanwhile the clock was ticking.

We made it to the security check-in line (we were in Denver headed to Indianapolis), which was longer than expected given the hour.  I wasn’t freaking out or angry, as I fantasized about driving to Indy (or anywhere for that matter) to avoid the feel of being herded like cattle and completely at the mercy of the societal machine. 

There was an older couple in line ahead of us (feel the energy shift…).  Their energy was soft, sweet and gentle all at once.  This white haired couple looked at us once and then again.  And then the man spoke and asked if we were on vacation.  After telling them our plans and where we were going, Kristine and I asked the same of them.  The man that appeared to be either in his late 60’s or early 70’s shared that his father had passed (transitioned) and he and his wife were traveling to San Francisco to spread both his parents ashes in the bay. 

This couple was clearly at peace and had a calmness about them.  After sharing our condolences, both they and us had to move forward because the line was moving surprisingly quickly.  As we walked I said, “Please excuse me, but I just have to ask. Have you received any signs from your Dad?”  I went on to quickly introduce them to Quinton.  As I spoke about Q-man and signs in general, his wife began to beam.  Her smile was contagious and her eyes twinkled.  I turned from the man and to her saying, “I see that smile.  What signs have you received?”  She said something to the effect, “He is in my mind and I find myself constantly thinking about him.”

We continued talking as we tried to keep up with the security line as the speed of the line actually increased.  I shared Quinton holding my hand 30 hours after he died (transitioned), seeing him in his room (I was awake), hearing him call my name (I was awake) and the dream visitation that was so vivid and clear.  They were looking at Kristine and me as they took it all in.  By then, we were almost at the point where a TSA agent would be checking our ID.

We closed by not only encouraging them to take note of what they experience while spreading his parents and her in-laws ashes.  Take note of anything different, unusual, or may seem like a coincidence.  We further gave them our Quinton’s Messages / Quinton’s Legacy cards and further encouraged them to write us if they might be inclined to share what it is they experience while on the water. 

We closed by telling them it was a mission of ours to share this divine and special knowledge that there is not only no death, but life is eternal.  We expressed our desire that mainstream media would report and share this larger view of reality and how doing so would surely make the world a better place, but in the meantime, we are here to share.  We asked permission to share anything they might share with us.

They thanked us with their eyes and in word, as we went right and they went left.  As we fiddled to get our ID’s out of purse / wallet and prepared show them to the TSA agent, they looked over and thanked us yet again.  They were off for a somber occasion, but I sensed a joy in them.

We are part of a group of grieving parents, grieving the transition of our children, but what applies to us also applies to everyone grieving the transition of a loved one.  There is no death and life is eternal; the same is true when a parent, sibling, Aunt, Uncle, Cousin or friends leaves this physical reality. There is no death and we all continue after crossing the threshold.

Don’t be afraid to ask, “Have you received any signs?”  The subsequent conversation may make your day.

Blessings!

Quinton’s Mom and Dad

Read 450 times

Leave a comment

Make sure you enter all the required information, indicated by an asterisk (*). HTML code is not allowed.