Sunday, 17 May 2015 18:33

Losing a Loved One

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Losing a loved one is the worst. Losing a child is worse than that. When I use the word “losing”, I am talking about death and all of us part of this group understand it all too well. It is awful, but then something happens, something magical if we are fortunate enough to recognize what it is. All too often, our wonderful children make contact in some way.

Sometimes the ways they make contact are powerful and impossible to misinterpret. Other times, the signs they send are so subtle that we second guess what we are experiencing or worse, convince ourselves that they are figments of our imagination. In either case, they are there; the signs are there which means that our children are there. Suddenly, when the let the magnitude of these signs sink in, I mean sink in all the way to our souls, we understand there is no death.

This was where the rubber meets the road, but it can be unbelievably challenging to recognize and acknowledge that our child didn’t die, that he or she simply went through a doorway, though a veil and is still here. One of the biggest challenges some of us must overcome to this realization is how our beautiful child left us. Was it a result of cancer, a suicide, a drunk driver? Did we have to watch them suffer or was their transition caused by a careless or thoughtless act of another? So many of us get stuck right here, in this painful place and that is okay. It is a natural part of grieving and coming to terms with our loss, but the magic is still there! Our kids are still here, just on the other side of the veil!

When our son, Quinton made contact, my first reaction when the magnitude of what he had accomplished pieced the dark place I was in, was elation. As I explained in our first book (Quinton’s Messages), I went from imagining my son alone in a dark place to complete jubilation as I realized that he didn’t die! My next immediate thought was, “why didn’t I know”? Why didn’t I know that this was how death worked and why wasn’t I taught this and why isn’t this amazing fact discussed daily and everywhere from news broadcasts to newspapers? My son, Quinton, sent me on an amazing journey of discovery. It is my one wish that I could share this feeling of jubilation, of complete exhilaration with you.

This is our reality and it does not matter how long it takes you to come to this epiphany or what specific aha moment opens your eyes to the simple fact that, there is no death for our transitioned children. Also, it follows that there is no death for us! We will see them again! And it goes deeper than that. The simple fact that we are still here in the physical world means that there something for us to experience and learn or maybe it is to help others; but in any case I am quite certain that our purpose is not to be filled with hate or checking out in some way. That just is not what our kids want!

In our second book, Quinton’s Legacy, after spending the first three-quarters of the book lifting the reader’s energy with our amazing experiences courtesy of Quinton, and a multitude of visitations shared by others of their deceased loved ones making contact, I venture into this topic. There is no right or wrong, it is different for each of us and there certainly cannot be judgment – but there is something there for each of us whether that is some manner of knowledge, some manner of growth, or some manner of peace. In large part, this is a gift from our transitioned child!

It is up to us to experience the pain, to feel it and to purge it in order to make room for the epiphanies and euphoria! Yell, scream and cry to the point of exhaustion; give this grief a voice and outlet so over time it may dissipate. From this place, remember the good times, the fun times; remember the smiles and laughter – remember and let the signs come! Don’t second guess them. Don’t talk yourself out of the simple understanding that life still is for them and for us, and when the time is right begin to tackle the reality that you being here without your child has some purpose (probably many!), different for us all, but purpose nevertheless.

Embrace it all and begin the journey your child set you upon.

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