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No Reason for Goodbyes

BALBOA PRESS

Contents

Acknowledgements.................................................................................viiForeword.........................................................................................ixPreface..........................................................................................xiIntroduction.....................................................................................xvChapter One - Sightings..........................................................................1Chapter Two - When the Medium Brings the Message - Part I - John Holland.........................23Chapter Three - Lucid Dreams.....................................................................35Chapter Four - When the Medium Brings the Message - Part II - John Edward........................70Chapter Five - Messages by Special Delivery......................................................76Chapter Six - When the Medium Brings the Message - Part III - Wind Dancer........................100Chapter Seven - Reminders........................................................................105Chapter Eight - When the Medium Brings the Message - Part IV - John Holland......................127Chapter Nine - Synchronicity.....................................................................160Chapter Ten - When the Medium Brings the Message - Part V - John Edward..........................180Chapter Eleven – The Inexplicable and Other Little Miracles................................183Chapter Twelve - When the Medium Brings the Message - Part VI - Robert Brown.....................219Afterword........................................................................................237Appendix A.......................................................................................241Appendix B.......................................................................................245Appendix C.......................................................................................247

Chapter One

Given the number of young men and women who have lost their lives in the service of their country, especially in more recent years, I thought it appropriate that we begin our testimonials with the moving contribution by Colleen.

The memorial service for my father was over. All that was left was to move the bouquets to the car and then get through the hours of the reception. Some time before the end of that longest of March days, my mother informed my sisters and me that another service was planned for him at Arlington National Cemetery during the Christmas holidays.

I couldn't believe it. Death had never been considered an ending in our family, just another door like countless others that lead to different experiences through a lifetime. His ashes were already interred at Arlington and I didn't understand why Mom wanted to prolong the mourning for the father and husband we'd all lost. I told her so.

"Your dad wanted to have a service in Arlington," she said quietly. "And I'm going to do it for him."

Dad was a Marine during the Second World War. He was a radioman and family legend puts him onboard ship where he witnessed the raising of the flag at Iwo Jima. We all remembered countless ball games and parades where the Marine Corps Hymn was played — Dad standing practically alone until the last bars faded. He had a look on his face I still can't describe. But even as a child, I knew there was something of deep importance for him in that tune and I always stood quietly while it played.

The seasons moved by and suddenly it was time for Christmas in Virginia. Family flew in from all over the country. Discussion at the dinner table centered on the ceremony to be held right after the holiday. Time hadn't changed a thing for me. I still felt the exercise was pointless and maudlin, but out of respect I kept my thoughts to myself.

It was cloudy, chilly and threatening rain as the ceremony began. Across the rolling hills in the gray light, the graves of Arlington marched away like stone soldiers. The reds and golds and blues of the Marines' uniforms seemed to be the only color. Military precision and the air of command captured my attention, but nothing changed the way I continued to feel — sad, uneasy, and vaguely angry. All I could seem to do was stare at the shoes of the honor guard. Patent leather polished to a high sheen moving like clockwork against the cold ground.

I really don't believe in death. I've had countless proofs that life continues. And as I sat there listening to the eulogy, I knew Dad was still moving forward through his experience, continuing to learn and grow. But the sadness wouldn't lift. I missed him. Alzheimer's disease is what sent him on and the most recent memories we'd shared were conflicted and frustrating and profoundly sad. I was lost in those memories as the service neared its end.

But then an odd thing happened.

Suddenly, something caught my complete attention, as if someone had called my name. I was instantly aware and looked up in confusion. And as I did, a sweet, deep sense of peace flooded my thoughts. Time stood still. I felt embraced and comforted and filled with joy. Although there were no words, a voice seemed to say, "God is Life and Life is forever. Life goes on forever and ever. Everywhere and everywhen."

I looked at the faces of my family sitting quietly and at the Marines as they crisply folded the flag. Everyone was glowing. Color poured back into the scene and the misty day now seemed to be sunlit and glistening. I was suddenly aware of the deep affection the Marines held for my father, even though they'd never met him. How much they held for us as his family. The care they'd all taken to prepare the service — the 21-gun salute, the immaculate uniforms, the powerful eulogy. I finally understood Dad's love of the Marine Corps. Had it been appropriate, I would have leaped from my chair and hugged them all.

And then I saw Dad standing there watching the service, too. Just standing there quietly, smiling, completely absorbed in the ceremony. He was happy and proud, relaxed and energized, as if he'd just strolled by during a morning walk. Even as the thought about how weird it all was came to mind, I was swept by the understanding that what I was experiencing was natural and normal. The way things are supposed to be. He wasn't an apparition. No séance had brought him there. He was just Dad.

I had no desire to go to him. It was enough just to see him whole and strong. To see my dad again with the clear light of intelligence and humor in his eyes. And I somehow knew I couldn't speak with him, even if I'd tried. But I knew that we would some day.

I know that we will.

Colleen Lester

Bottom line: Colleen's experience is a reminder of all the fathers, sons and daughters who have served, dedicated or have given their lives in military service to our country. And of course, once a Marine, always a Marine, whether on this side of the veil or the other.

* * *

Giving credit where it's due, the sighting experienced by Joyce Braga was the primary impetus for this book. A fellow member of a writers' critique group to which I belong, I'd known her for years. One day while we were discussing my work-in-progress, a mystery that involved a sighting, she dropped this tidbit, which didn't register at...