The statue of Virgin Mary in the corner of St. Paul's Catholic church always caught my attention. Her eyes had a wisdom I wanted to know. Faithfully, every year I stood in line to have a cross drawn on my forehead in ashes while the priest said, "remember man that thou art dust and unto dust thou shall return." Woah! Mary's eyes looked like they rolled up. That sentence stayed with me throughout dinner like a favorite song but not because I liked it. In those days, death was something we didn't talk about which meant many of us kept secrets. Bringing up messages from dead relatives through dreams was hush hushed. "Don't make waves," was something I heard often. That was then and this is now.
Wendy and I had the pleasure of speaking to Betty J. Kovacs, Ph.D and author of "The Miracle of Death". http://www.atlasbooks.com/marktplc/00902.htm Her story of losing her mother, husband and only child would make some people cry rivers,but her book is a love story and an inspiration of hope. She spoke of the dreams her son had of his own death. Will I know when it's my turn to leave? I don't know but I am sure we are more than dust in the wind.
Too many people are speaking up now about their dreams. When a family friend died at the tender age of twenty three, I was only comforted by the fact that he had visited my son in a dream the night of his death, thanking him for being such a good friend. Four weeks later, he came to me in a dream, telling me of his new job in the "afterlife." There was so much excitement in his voice and he honored me by telling me "they" were proud of my work here. We never told his family, I'm not sure how I would. Such a personal thing, this journey we call death.