Tag: reunion

My latest reunion with my deceased husband

I dreamed that my husband, Mike, was unconscious and in bed in our home. He was in the throws of death.

My daughters and I had planned a party for Mike. Even though he was dying, we thought he might be aware, and being the very social guy he was, we knew he would love it. It would be our attempt to give him some love on his way out. We invited all his friends and loved ones.

For some reason, I had to walk down back (about a quarter of a mile away) and meet with some people in the field. While I was there, I suddenly became aware that something was going on with my husband. Leaving the gathered people, I ran back up through the field and gardens. I didn’t know what was going on with him but I worried that he might be actively dying. I was desperate to be with him.

Once back to the house, I ran to his bed. He wasn’t there. Hunting through the house, I found him in the bathroom, freshening-up. I ran to him and we embraced exuberantly. Then I wet and soaped a washcloth and began lathering his upper torso.

In the next scene, I entered a large room where he sat wearing the red sweater he actually wore in his casket for visiting hours. He sat in a big circle on the floor. There his loved ones were all gathered in this circle. There was more happiness in that circle than one can imagine. All attention was on him. Love radiated from him to them and from them to him.

Upon awakening, I realized my precious husband had once again shown me proof of his life on the other side. Yes, he’s in another dimension and very happy there. Yet he still comes to me and reassures me. Not only does he live, but our love lives!

A family reunion before the final breath…

Hugs.  He hugs his sister, Betty and his Dad this morning. I think his Dad is the last one to show up for this family reunion. I’m so glad to witness his presence. Yesterday was brother, Billy, and Sue & Jack.The day before, deceased sons-in-law, Michael and Howard. His mother hovers near most of the time. 

His soldiers have gathered around him for weeks (he has talked about 150 men in the platoon and 50 rangers) showing him there is no death. Welcoming him home.

He ceases breathing and I count heart beats. Sometimes 6, sometimes 26. Deep breathe. Another. Another. Long hug.

He is quiet. I’m imagine he’s gone on another cigarette break.

Until a few days ago, he was often concerned about our little dog who has lymphoma cancer. One day he asked, “Where is the dog?” 

I answered him, “He’s in the living room, sleeping.”

“No he’s not; he’s dead.” He told me imfaticaly. 

“I’ll go get him.” I reassured him.

Returning with the dog, I placed his front paws next to Mike’s arm. “Here he is.”

“Well that SOB lied to me. He told me my dog was dead.” He exclaimed.

I don’t believe Mike has questioned where the dog is, since.

But the dog, Jubal, has paced the house relentlessly. He definitly knows something is amiss. I suspect he is aware of all the spirits floating in and out.

This morning a bluejay sat in the oaktree outside Mike’s screen door. He screamed over and over again. Quite astounded, Emy and I looked at each other as the bird screamed, “Come on! Come on!” 

Mike mumbled, “Birds. Birds.” He heard the call. But he’s not quite ready. I’d say he probably has about a pack of cigarettes left.