Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #connection

How to talk to the dead

March 21, 2021 /

The hardest part of grief is the thought that we will never be able to see or speak to our loved one again. This is the unacceptable truth we face and thus we look for ways to disprove it or to lessen the pain with such practices like finding signs that we believe are from our loved ones. 

In Mary Bertun’s book, “The 21 Day Doorway Across the Veil”, she shares with the reader how to connect with your loved one who is on another realm.  Guided by her son Chas, through stories and tips, each day is an exercise in communication and reflection with space in the book to journal your experience.

I truly enjoyed this book.  With the daily practices, I found meditations and reflections more meaningful.  Her suggested focus of thoughts brought back flashes of childhood memories I had forgotten and gave me a deeper insight to my own being.  I did find a connection to Zane, receiving messages from him through these meditations.  An example was day 8. The thought focus was about joy, which on this particular day I was in tears. During my mediation (with my eyes closed), my computer made a sound that surprised me.  I opened my eyes to glance over and a Pinterest photo had popped up that said, “Let’s visit Banff.” Banff is a favorite of Zane’s and mine. It is a place that brings both of us joy.

 Some days it was a visible sign, like that and some days it was a thought that came into my head like a knowing I did not think of but rather someone just said it to me.  I will choose to believe it was Zane on this day, because the words were as he would have said.  He knew the mountains bring me joy. The message of how to change my tears to joy was crystal clear.

The practices taught in this book brought me both clarification and comfort. We are told our loved ones are always with us so why not seek ways to practice new ways to reach them?  What is there to lose?  Thank you Mary.

Our First Conversation across the Realms

February 28, 2021 /

A colleague asked if I remembered what I was thinking the first day we received the news of Zane’s passing.   Everyone is different.  For me, it was vague.  I remember just snippets of that day.  I went back to the letters I wrote to Zane after the crash and found this one.

Dear Zane,

The day of the crash I kept repeating, quietly but out loud, three things.  “It’s ok, I know and, yes”.

Why these? In my deep and earth shattering shock of the unbearable news given to me, why would I quietly, calmly repeat these words over and over?

Was I talking to you?  You were here, even then, to let me know? Does that make sense? And what were you saying to me that had these answers?

I always say “it’s ok” to those in pain or dealing with change of no choice.  Was I telling you it’s ok?  That I know you are still here.  I know you are ok. I know that you are moving on to where you are supposed to be.  Yes, it’s ok that this is the plan?

No. I do not feel that way.  Now.  But I wonder, in that day that cut open, raw day, if I did know better? If some how you were there to say, this is what happened.  And I said, “It’s ok”. And you said, “I’m off to the next realm” and I said, “I know” and you said “ok?” and I said, “yes”.

And perhaps in my sheer grief that conversation happened but my brain can’t remember the details.  It was a conversation our souls had. And it’s why I was so calm, so quiet, so (temporarily) absent from pain. Or maybe so deep in pain.  Either way, I know it was a conversation we were having. An understanding that you gave me, to which, in my present pain, I must find and hang on to.

Over the last year, I am learning that I can still have a relationship with my son if I meet him halfway. Zane believed we are energy, souls having a human experience.  He would talk about how souls vibrate at a much higher level than humans; of how the mind uses such a small capacity of its’ potential. This belief has inspired me to place hope in the practice of raising my vibration level to receive more.

At first this sounded too sci-fi trippy for me but what do I have to lose? I mean, how happy are we when we dream of our children or see a sign that we believe they sent?  Why wouldn’t you want to have more of those, daily dosages of connection.  Albeit, a physical hug is what we will always wish for, since fate stole that from us, what could other possible ways to unite with our child be? 

I believe that my words uttered repeatedly that day, hours after we were told he was killed, was a conversation I did indeed have with my son.  It was the first of many to come.

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