MORE EXCERPTS
The End Was Only The Beginning
NIGHT OF THE BATS
Flashback to June 5, the day Mary Alice died. By nightfall I was not only
distraught but completely exhausted. Elisabeth was staying with me, and we had both been through hell on the worst day of our lives.
I climbed into bed around 10:30 but couldn’t sleep. I finally dozed off, and around 2:30 a.m. I heard what sounded like someone strumming a harp. I
awoke with a start and looked around the room. I saw nothing, yet the
sound was clear and unmistakable.
Within seconds my father descended in an apparition from above and
appeared right in front of me. Shirtless, he was wearing red shorts and
looked like he had just left the gym. (He was very fit and handsome in his prime). He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, as those of us with
Italian heritage are prone to do. His spirit then ascended wordlessly
and disappeared.
I immediately asked, “Mary Alice, is that you?”
Then came the words, clearly in Mary Alice’s voice: “Yes. I didn’t want
to frighten you, so I sent your father first so you would not be afraid.”
Stunned, I asked if she was all right and was told she was free of pain andcompletely at peace.
“I wish Elisabeth and I could say the same,” I replied. Mary Alice
acknowledged that she understood, and told me we should be at much at
peace as she was. She then added that it was only natural for us to be
terribly sad.
And that was the beginning of a number of conversations with my wife,
most of them not only comforting but inspirational.
In the ensuing weeks I had very real, if brief, exchanges with Mary Alice, mostly telepathically. I also asked myself if these conversations could be
hallucinations, dreams or wishful thinking. Yet the nature of the responses
— and the sense of humor suffusing them — were my wife’s trademarks,
not mine. Moreover, she always spoke to me in first person.
My friends Brian and Penny Dyson offered to buy me a reading with the
Jamie Butler as a way to pay tribute to Mary Alice. I accepted their kind
offer and scheduled a meeting. Seven weeks after Mary Alice died I was
fortunate enough to meet with the incredibly gifted Jamie, a medium,
spiritualist and author who has done hundreds of readings. Her special
gift allows her to communicate with the deceased.
Jamie and I spent over two hours together, and during that time I was able to affirm that indeed I had been communicating with my wife. Jamie
recounted conversations between Mary Alice, and without any coaching,
prodding or hints coming from my side of the table.
When Jamie does a reading she firmly states she wants no details about
either the client or the deceased. Instead, she wants to start with a clean
slate so she can establish her own private connection with the departed.
Watching Jamie connect with Mary Alice for the first time was an
extraordinary experience, one full of energetic dialogue and laughter — and, just as important, an affirmation of my own ability to open the channel of
communication with my wife in ways I never thought possible.