KatieCoolady Holds 'Court' - The Dedicated KCL Thread

[Spellbound]

I was contemplating on the friendships formed here and the strengths and comforts of KCL's new blog. I was reminded of a favorite poem, but do not know if I am allowed to post it (or a link to it). If you have not heard it before, it is worth googling.

"A Reason, A Season, or A Lifetime" poem by unknown.

 

[Liebchenmutti]

KCL, I just read your post about your brother & the part about his heavy smoking reminded me that for some reason, many schizophrenics get relief from their symptoms to some degree from heavy or chain smoking cigarettes.

I volunteered at my local MHMR center, and we had an old man with schizophrenia who came for therapy and medication. I just remember him being completely closed off to those around him. One day he was sitting outside just sobbing and sobbing. It was heartbreaking to not be able to help him. He did improve, though, and I do remember how heavily he smoked.

I read that smoking thing a lot later, and I will always remember that sweet man and his heartbreaking cry. Alfonse is truly blessed to have you, and you are truly blessed to have him! Sometimes gifts come in difficult to open packages.

 

[Martha Morris]

This is my favourite thread on this forum. Why don't I spend more time here? :dunno:

I love the posts here. Profound and soulful. My kind of posts, my kind of people...:loveyou:

I'm not profound, or soulful and as mentioned before on this thread I am a very skeptical, non spiritual, non religious type person - a disciple of the James Randi school of thought.

Having said that, I have enjoyed reading this thread and have a lot of respect for everyone who has contributed and the experiences they have shared. I also have had one or two things happen in my life that I can't explain away quite so easily, including this.

My daughter was born in July .. my dad died in December, two days before Christmas. They never met as I lived several hundred miles away. I wasn't close to my father, my parents had divorced when I was fourteen and I was very much for and with my mother through it all. My dad was this remote figure - he was 13 years older than my mum and had two daughters by a previous marriage who were middle aged when we were children and I just never had that close daughter/father relationship with him. He was this grey haired, old fashioned, silent man, who went to work, came home, sat in the chair, read his books, went for walks. He wasn't unkind to us, but for me as a little girl growing up - he was just this old guy who lived in our house. After they got divorced my mother used to say - 'he wasn't a bad man, he was just the wrong man'. And I totally understood that. Although he was my dad, I just felt no kinship with him, if that makes any sense.

When I became an adult, when we did meet up it was always difficult, awkward and for me quite painful. I guess you could say I shut my dad out, and even when I visited my old home town, I'd always find a reason not to go and visit him. My younger sister had moved to America and although she never saw him physically she had a much closer relationship with him - even bought the flat he lived in so he didn't have to worry financially, and stayed in touch with him via letter, weekly phone calls etc. but I didn't. I always felt this underlying sadness about my relationship with my father, but I just didn't know what to do to put it right.

My son was 2, my daughter was a few months old .. and one night I got a call to say my father had died. It was two days before Christmas. I was absolutely distraught, I mean heartbroken, sobbing, a mess ... and my partner (who I'd been with for over a decade at that time) was rather cold and unfeeling. In all the time he'd known me, I'd never been close to my dad, so why in hell was I crying and moaning about it now - wasn't I being a bit hypocritical? (Needless to say, me and him didn't last long after that ... but that's a whole other story).

What he didn't understand was that I was crying for what me and my dad never had. It just absolutely broke my heart because there I was with my baby girl and my two year old boy .... and this lonely old man, my father was gone .. and there was never, ever going to be a chance to put things right, to have the relationship we should have had but never did.

On Christmas Day we'd invited friends for lunch and my mother and stepfather were coming and it was supposed to be a happy time, my baby girl's first Christmas, and although I wanted to call the whole thing off, I knew I couldn't. No-one understood why I was so upset, no-one, least of all my partner and even my mum .. and so I went through the motions of shopping, cooking etc, bur I tell you, I was a wreck inside. An absolute wreck. I never, ever would have thought it would hit me so hard.

At that time I was living in a small village in Wales ... Christmas morning came, opening presents, friends and grandparents there and me going through the motions with a smile on my face but feeling like my heart was going to snap in two. As lunch time approached I suggested they all go down to the village pub while I prepared the meal - I just wanted them out of the house, so I could try and pull myself together.

As soon as they'd gone I just burst into tears. I don't think I've ever cried so much in my entire life as I did that day.

We had this huge bay window at the front of the house with a seat that went all the way round it .... and I remember sitting there and just sobbing my heart out for my dad - for all the years we'd lost and the relationship we never had. This is December in North Wales - Snowdonia - mid-winter, freezing cold - there's no windows open, the heating in the house is going full blast. I'm sitting there in this bay window and I've got a wind chime hanging from the ceiling above my head .. and suddenly it starts chiming, clanking and clattering - going back and forth, back and forth ten to the dozen! I mean really going nuts like someone was blowing a wind machine directly at it.

There is no breeze in that room. None. There's no air currents, no open window, nothing. It's still and there's only me sitting there. No one has brushed against it with their shoulder - there is nothing to make that windchime start moving.

I looked around, tried to figure out how - but there was absolutely no scientific or logistical explanation as to how that thing suddenly started moving and clanging and clattering back and forth.

And like others have said - in that moment I just felt totally peaceful. I stopped crying, I stopped breaking my heart and just felt this sense of calm come over me.

If I wasn't such a skeptic ... I'd like to think that windchime clanking and swaying for no physical reason that I could see ... was my old dad telling me it's ok kid, don't beat yourself up, I'm ok .. and I love you.

 

[crime cases addict]

I also wanted to add that one of my favorite movies is "Coal Miner's Daughter" & the scene where Loretta Lynn's husband is walking down a hill and calling her name & waving--she sees her beloved father waving his lunch pail & yelling for her just like he did in her childhood. When she sees that it's really her husband, he tells her that her dad had died.

That scene always makes me cry!

You might want to know that Loretta Lynn( one of my very favorites of all time) because of that scene thinks she is physic.. She was looking for a new home and she heard of this haunted mansion....She bought it along with the whole small town. It is called Hurricane Mills just eat of Nashville. I have always wanted to visit it. They say if you take a tour of it and she is home she will come speak to you. I believe it because we took a trip to Butcher Holler and got a tour of her house by her oldest brother. He had to feed the horse first :floorlaugh: Just a regular down to eath country man. We had just missed Loretta being there by about 2 weeks. What a shame. A little OT but I think worth sharing this wonderful lady :seeya:

 

[LambChop]

I'm not profound, or soulful and as mentioned before on this thread I am a very skeptical, non spiritual, non religious type person - a disciple of the James Randi school of thought.

Having said that, I have enjoyed reading this thread and have a lot of respect for everyone who has contributed and the experiences they have shared. I also have had one or two things happen in my life that I can't explain away quite so easily, including this.

My daughter was born in July .. my dad died in December, two days before Christmas. They never met as I lived several hundred miles away. I wasn't close to my father, my parents had divorced when I was fourteen and I was very much for and with my mother through it all. My dad was this remote figure - he was 13 years older than my mum and had two daughters by a previous marriage who were middle aged when we were children and I just never had that close daughter/father relationship with him. He was this grey haired, old fashioned, silent man, who went to work, came home, sat in the chair, read his books, went for walks. He wasn't unkind to us, but for me as a little girl growing up - he was just this old guy who lived in our house. After they got divorced my mother used to say - 'he wasn't a bad man, he was just the wrong man'. And I totally understood that. Although he was my dad, I just felt no kinship with him, if that makes any sense.

When I became an adult, when we did meet up it was always difficult, awkward and for me quite painful. I guess you could say I shut my dad out, and even when I visited my old home town, I'd always find a reason not to go and visit him. My younger sister had moved to America and although she never saw him physically she had a much closer relationship with him - even bought the flat he lived in so he didn't have to worry financially, and stayed in touch with him via letter, weekly phone calls etc. but I didn't. I always felt this underlying sadness about my relationship with my father, but I just didn't know what to do to put it right.

My son was 2, my daughter was a few months old .. and one night I got a call to say my father had died. It was two days before Christmas. I was absolutely distraught, I mean heartbroken, sobbing, a mess ... and my partner (who I'd been with for over a decade at that time) was rather cold and unfeeling. In all the time he'd known me, I'd never been close to my dad, so why in hell was I crying and moaning about it now - wasn't I being a bit hypocritical? (Needless to say, me and him didn't last long after that ... but that's a whole other story).

What he didn't understand was that I was crying for what me and my dad never had. It just absolutely broke my heart because there I was with my baby girl and my two year old boy .... and this lonely old man, my father was gone .. and there was never, ever going to be a chance to put things right, to have the relationship we should have had but never did.

On Christmas Day we'd invited friends for lunch and my mother and stepfather were coming and it was supposed to be a happy time, my baby girl's first Christmas, and although I wanted to call the whole thing off, I knew I couldn't. No-one understood why I was so upset, no-one, least of all my partner and even my mum .. and so I went through the motions of shopping, cooking etc, bur I tell you, I was a wreck inside. An absolute wreck. I never, ever would have thought it would hit me so hard.

At that time I was living in a small village in Wales ... Christmas morning came, opening presents, friends and grandparents there and me going through the motions with a smile on my face but feeling like my heart was going to snap in two. As lunch time approached I suggested they all go down to the village pub while I prepared the meal - I just wanted them out of the house, so I could try and pull myself together.

As soon as they'd gone I just burst into tears. I don't think I've ever cried so much in my entire life as I did that day.

We had this huge bay window at the front of the house with a seat that went all the way round it .... and I remember sitting there and just sobbing my heart out for my dad - for all the years we'd lost and the relationship we never had. This is December in North Wales - Snowdonia - mid-winter, freezing cold - there's no windows open, the heating in the house is going full blast. I'm sitting there in this bay window and I've got a wind chime hanging from the ceiling above my head .. and suddenly it starts chiming, clanking and clattering - going back and forth, back and forth ten to the dozen! I mean really going nuts like someone was blowing a wind machine directly at it.

There is no breeze in that room. None. There's no air currents, no open window, nothing. It's still and there's only me sitting there. No one has brushed against it with their shoulder - there is nothing to make that windchime start moving.

I looked around, tried to figure out how - but there was absolutely no scientific or logistical explanation as to how that thing suddenly started moving and clanging and clattering back and forth.

And like others have said - in that moment I just felt totally peaceful. I stopped crying, I stopped breaking my heart and just felt this sense of calm come over me.

If I wasn't such a skeptic ... I'd like to think that windchime clanking and swaying for no physical reason that I could see ... was my old dad telling me it's ok kid, don't beat yourself up, I'm ok .. and I love you.

It was.

 

[Mollyandme]

This is my first post as a member of websleuths and I just wanted to thank you KCL for being you. I was a longtime lurker reading this thread and others and finally decided to join. I watched every day of this trial and the Alexander family is lucky and blessed to have you by their side during this time. I don't really think there are adequate words to express how all of your acts of kindness, advocacy, and simple prayer have affected those around you, including those of us that read this board.

P.S.-Awesome blog, you need to write a book!

 

[Hope4More]

Thank you to everyone who wrote such personal and moving stories! I just read them all. Will add one.

Many years ago when I was in college I went to a gathering of Buddhist monks and Native Americans who were on a Long Walk to DC to protest the devastation caused by uranium trailings on their reservations. The monks said chants in Nepalese, the Native Americans in a host of languages I didn't understand. But I didn't need to--the songs were clearly deep laments. At some point I was so shaken that I started to cry.

A Native American man dressed in T-shirt and jeans came up to me, very close. He never said a word. In the next moment I SAW mountains and a valley below me. I was soaring effortlessly on wind currents, feeling more peaceful than I have ever felt, before or to this day. My mind was completely empty except for being aware of the sensation of peace and the fact that I was an eagle.

I opened my eyes after what felt like might be hours. The Native American, who I later learned was a medicine man, looked at me, nodded, and walked away.

Thirty or so years later I sat with my dying father on a porch at night, both of us in rocking chairs, looking out into a mountain meadow and talking about death. He was in his late 60's and incredibly healthy up until 2 months earlier when he was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. He knew he had only a few months to live. He said he would not let me see him wither away, that he wanted me to remember him as he was that night, peaceful, reconciled with death, in the mountains, watching fireflies and listening for owls.

My dad had lived his entire life, up until his final 3 years, not believing in God or a afterlife. Three years before he died, after living many years in Arizona, he had come to embrace the Native American notion of the circle of life, and that all things, living and dead, are one. He talked about this belief as we rocked on the porch. I hadn't thought about my experience with the medicine man in many years, but when he told me about his belief, I told him about my experience.

We must all be one, I told him, or how else could my consciousness have been transported into that of an eagle? He went utterly still and when I looked over I saw that he was crying. I had never seen him cry before.

That was the last time I saw my father. He flew back to Arizona. No matter how much I begged he would not let me fly out. We spoke by phone until he lost the ability to speak, 3 months after our visit. An hour before he died my stepmother called me, and when I asked, held the phone to his ear. I told him goodbye, that it was OK to let go, that I loved him, that I would see him again.

He died an hour later, peacefully.

A year after he died I flew out to Arizona on vacation with my DH and son. One morning I woke up early and went for a walk by myself. We were staying on an Indian reservation not far away from the Grand Canyon and in the other direction, the Painted Desert. My father had loved this part of Arizona. Decades before he moved there he had taken us camping all over Arizona, and to every national park and forest in the West.

I was remembering those trips and thinking of my father as I walked. At some point I sat down on a gigantic boulder and gazed around. Suddenly I felt literally compelled to look up. In the distance I saw an eagle flying, coming straight towards me, closer and closer. The eagle flew directly above me, hundreds of feet up in the air, slowed down, flew in a circle, then flew back the way it had come.

I felt my father's presence, and I knew with all my being that he was telling me he was at peace.

 

[Bravo]

Mollyandme

:welcome5:

 

[wing560]

KCL, love your blog and I agree with others, you should consider a book.

I also love the direction this thread is going in right now. Very interesting and moving. :heartbeat:

 

[Face the music]

I have several events that I could write about that has happened to my daughter or myself. This one is somewhat different then being contacted by a loved one but also shows missed love ones and the possibility of life.
When my grandson was somewhere between two and three, we were sitting around the dining room table and my grandson said that he missed daddy. His father is a firefighter and has 24 hour shifts and he was at work. My daughter said that daddy would be home in the morning and grandson said, "no, my other daddy." He went on to tell us that he had another daddy and dog and that he missed them. He ended with, "but don't tell daddy because it might hurt him". He was concerned about hurting his dads feelings. It really was touching and makes one wonder about the possibilities.

 

[FrayedKnot]

It's a great name, isn't it?

Lol, it is! Figures quite prominently in my family history, too, along with McLeods! Scads of both!

 

[FrayedKnot]

I think that although it is heartbreaking how many of us have suffered loss, it is so comforting to know that we are in such lovely company and that the pain of loss does not define us, but completes us and perhaps REfines us......(((Hugs))) to all who have had to bury a loved one.

I know my own heartbreaks have made me more compassionate. And they have also encouraged me to slow down and savor each and every living minute.

 

[deedee21]

I went to San Diego last year because my mother had a heart attack. She died two weeks later. I stayed at my nieces house during that time. The following day I was in my nieces yard crying. I said out loud"mom I know you are ok but I want a clear cut sign from you that you are ok". I had a strong urge to go to Seaport Village. I thought maybe my sign would come there. That was my mothers favorite place to go. I got on the trolly and went to seaport village. I was walking along and again said"mom give me a clear cut sign that you are ok." It was at that moment I knew to turn my head to the right. I saw the back of a boat. The name Paaradise Valley was written on the back of the boat. The name of the hospital my mother died in is Paradise Valley. That was her sign to me. A sense of peace came over me.

 

[katiecoolady]

I just finished catching up with all of these deeply moving and touching posts. I can't thank you all enough for sharing them.

the ones about fathers are particularly affecting me as my Dad is 82 and I know he's getting older and we just never know. I'm making it a promise to myself to call him every day for the remainder of his vacation (he's up in Maine for awhile).

I stopped by Alfonse's on the way home from work as he'd invited me over for....beef stroganoff! I always know when he's doing well by what he cooks. He has an iphone now so he looks up recipes and cooks elaborate dishes when he's feeling good.

I told him I was writing the blog this week and he'd asked me a couple of questions. I know he talked about it with his case manager as he referred to it when he called me yesterday. I read the post I wrote about him to him (meaning to John) and he replied "I think that's really well written". I asked him if it made him sad to revisit those things and he lowered his head and said "yeah, it makes me sad". He's in a grieving group at his treatment program right now so I think he's diving in to some of these issues himself so we are on the same page.

So tonite he asked me if I knew how to get a letter to Angelina Jolie (he actually asked me if I could "twitter it" lol). He showed me his handwritten letter where he talks about being glad she had the "procedure" to remove her breasts, that we'd lost our mother "Oct. 18, 1965" (see what I mean about his incredible memory?) and that he was 3 1/2 and how he has no memories of her at all. That although she'd had her breasts removed, the cancer was already spread throughout her body and if it was in this time, she might have survived. So he feels very glad she's had the surgery. He ended it saying "I think you're beautiful" then scratched it out. I asked him why and he said "because that's inappropriate! she's a married woman and I don't want to piss off Brad Pitt!".

I just thought that was just interesting timing..that he wrote that all out at the same time I'm writing these memories. I told him maybe he should start a blog! And now I need to figure out the best way to get a "fan letter" to Angelina Jolie online.

 

[katiecoolady]

Speaking of blogs, I'm hoping it's ok to post here because this is full of utterly hilarious creativity by our poster jayarohh. Mostly about this trial. Just reading his headline story of how he got in to the trial is worth the visit. He's the one who made the Juanism poster that......drumroll.................is being made in to a T shirt (it won't work on a coffee cup dangit) for a fund raising effort for the Alexanders!

He is just so funny...and he's the "wordsmith" I turned to when I needed to come up with a name for my blog. I luv his little naughty sweet heart (in person, I mean on the phone, he's more sweet than naughty though).

http://ariasloveletters.tumblr.com/page/2

 

[Pugnolia]

It was Mother's Day and I was sitting at my dining room table with a friend, and we were talking about our deceased mothers. We talked about how they would have liked each other had they ever met, how very much we missed them, how there were huge holes in our hearts due to their absences. In short order we dissolved into tears while we told each other stories about our mothers. Then our conversations moved into the guilt we each felt regarding words unsaid, things undone, issues unresolved, while they were living.

Fighting tears, I told my friend how disappointed my mother would be with me if she knew how badly I had neglected all of the lovely antiques I had inherited from her, antiques which had come down through the family for generations and which my mother had so treasured. I suddenly jumped up from the table and ripped the tablecloth off, got the furniture polish out, and polished the table for the first time in a year while lamenting 'Mom, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I may not keep your things as nice as you did, but at least they aren't getting damaged....'

I sat down at the table again. We then noticed that the four dogs were sitting in the hall and were staring up at the ceiling in the corner of the dining room. They then broke out in deep growls, hackles up, all the while staring at an empty space. They backed up into the hallway and no amount of encouragement could entice them into the dining room. We stared up, and then back at them, exclaiming 'How weird is that, they've never done that before.'

The chandelier began to sway. With no open window, no air currents, no air conditioner, the chandelier swayed in a circular motion and continued to do so for about five minutes, not subtlety, not gently, not indistinctly, but with compulsion and force. To which we responded with outbursts of love while we both spoke to our mothers.

 

[cubbeegirl]

Ok... I'll go. My momma lived in Illinois, about 120 miles south of Chicago. I was the baby of the family and my son was her youngest grandson. It was no secret to anyone that my son was her "golden child", mostly because by the time he came along her other grandchildren were grown,some with children of their own. There are 14 yrs between me and my brother and 10 between me and my sister.I was 36 by the time my son came along and no one ever thought we would be blessed by the miracle that he is to us.

When my momma got ill and required more care than my single sister who had to work full time could give her my then husband and my son who was around 8 at the time decided that we wanted her to come and live with us in Louisiana. We were blessed with my momma in our home for 2 1/2 years during which time she got to spend alot of quality time with my son. During the last year of her life they would lay in her hospital bed together and watch cartoons and take naps together ... I am so thankful that they had that special time together. Since my son was a baby , my momma always wanted us to come home for Christmas, she wanted my son to have a white Christmas, and everytime we would go home for Christmas the snow that was on the ground melted before we got there or it fell after we returned home to Louisiana. My momma so badly wanted him to have that white Christmas.She always loved and made quite a huge deal out of family Christmas.

Momma passed away on Dec 21 and my sister, my son and I threw the little Christmas tree that had been in her room,decorations and all into a plastic garbage bag and headed to Illinois where the funeral would be amongst all of our quite large family. Arrangements had been made to fly Momma home and my husband was to fly up later. We arrived in Illinois and on Christmas Eve my sister , myself and my son were going out to her storage shed to get some folding tables to put food on that was arriving at her house. We were in a daze and trying to get through this holiday and make sure that the kids all had the Christmas our Momma always insisted on everyone having....it wasnt about the money that was spent on gifts, but it was always about the love and family being together and tradition.We had arranged for the funeral to be December 27th to try to let the little ones have the kind of Christmas their Grandmother always made sure they had... We opened the door
to go out to the shed and the biggest fluffiest snowflakes I have ever seen in my life were falling out of the sky ....they were coming so fast and so many ...they were huge..my sons eyes got huge...my sister looked at me and smiled, then she looked at my son and with tears in her eyes said." Look, your Grandma is sending you the White Christmas she always wanted you to have.".. we all teared up , and I felt my Mommas presence with us, after that it seemed a little easier to carry on and keep up our family traditions.... Silly as it may sound, to this day, all three of us feel like my Momma sent those snowflakes to give my son the White Christmas she always wanted him to have.

 

[crime cases addict]

KCL, love your blog and I agree with others, you should consider a book.

I also love the direction this thread is going in right now. Very interesting and moving. :heartbeat:

Maybe you could write or co-author a book about Travis with the Alexandars. I would love knowing all of Travis's ups and downs as well as the rest of the family...I think it would be a best seller:seeya:

 

[crime cases addict]

I just finished catching up with all of these deeply moving and touching posts. I can't thank you all enough for sharing them.

the ones about fathers are particularly affecting me as my Dad is 82 and I know he's getting older and we just never know. I'm making it a promise to myself to call him every day for the remainder of his vacation (he's up in Maine for awhile).

I stopped by Alfonse's on the way home from work as he'd invited me over for....beef stroganoff! I always know when he's doing well by what he cooks. He has an iphone now so he looks up recipes and cooks elaborate dishes when he's feeling good.

I told him I was writing the blog this week and he'd asked me a couple of questions. I know he talked about it with his case manager as he referred to it when he called me yesterday. I read the post I wrote about him to him (meaning to John) and he replied "I think that's really well written". I asked him if it made him sad to revisit those things and he lowered his head and said "yeah, it makes me sad". He's in a grieving group at his treatment program right now so I think he's diving in to some of these issues himself so we are on the same page.

So tonite he asked me if I knew how to get a letter to Angelina Jolie (he actually asked me if I could "twitter it" lol). He showed me his handwritten letter where he talks about being glad she had the "procedure" to remove her breasts, that we'd lost our mother "Oct. 18, 1965" (see what I mean about his incredible memory?) and that he was 3 1/2 and how he has no memories of her at all. That although she'd had her breasts removed, the cancer was already spread throughout her body and if it was in this time, she might have survived. So he feels very glad she's had the surgery. He ended it saying "I think you're beautiful" then scratched it out. I asked him why and he said "because that's inappropriate! she's a married woman and I don't want to piss off Brad Pitt!".

I just thought that was just interesting timing..that he wrote that all out at the same time I'm writing these memories. I told him maybe he should start a blog! And now I need to figure out the best way to get a "fan letter" to Angelina Jolie online.

I would sure love to sit and talk..and maybe enjoy some of his cooking to John. I bet there are all kinds of beautiful thoughts in his mind that he just hasn't reveled yet. He sounds marvelous and a might hansome man too :seeya::seeya:

 

[Mollyandme]

I am a very spiritual person...was raised catholic (still haven't baptised my 20 month old and 5 month old though) but I tend to be more into spiritual/new age ways of thinking. I love angels, named my son after my favorite archangel, etc...love reiki, naturopathy (although sometimes I need a xanax to get on an airplane!)...

so anyway, when i was in undergrad at penn state, I was studying abroad and woke up one night with a strange dream about my best guy friend from childhood. it was so strange but very calming at the same time, in the dream he came to me and told me everything would be ok. He also had a dog with him which I had never seen before. I had only talked to him once during my time abroad and rarely ever had a dream about him. i woke up in a sweat and couldn't fall back to sleep, keep in mind, I was 6 hours ahead of him as I was in europe. About 2 hours later I couldn't take this weird feeling I had anymore, and so I logged into facebook and went to his page. All of the sudden I saw a few posts that said "rest in peace" etc...It was about 3 am on the east coast and his friends from college had just found out he died. Well, it turns out he was in a bad car accident and both him and the new dog he got that day were thrown through the windshield and killed instantly, which would explain the dog in my dream. I completely freaked and caught the first flight home, it was the first time I had ever lost someone really really close to me.

The feeling of peace I have now, looking back, that I was able to say goodbye makes me very grateful. I still have dreams about him maybe once a year. It is just one of the many things in my life that have happened that confirm for me that there is a higher realm. Afterall, we are made of energy and energy can't be created or destroyed, so all of our life force has to go somewhere, it's a basic law of physics! (at least this is what i tell my friends who don't believe in an afterlife of anykind)