I've been wondering how to describe the indescribable, how to express the inexpressible....how does one put into words that which there are no words for? How does one tell about an experience of spirit, without it being diminished in the telling of it? That's the dilemma I face as I try to recount here some of the experiences I've had. Just before, and for a long time after my son Jimmy died, I felt like a window was opened in my spirit. I had experiences, and "knew" things that were beyond earthly norms. In time, the window closed, and I was left with only the memories of that time, and the experiences I had in it. I have not felt the same level of open-ness and connectedness I had to the spiritual realm since my husband died, though I have had beautiful and meaningful experiences that were more subtle. (With the exception of the one I described in my last post; which was exceptional.) It's one thing to describe as best I can the actual experiences, but I cannot put into words the feelings of wonder that came with them, and the absolute "knowing" that made them so real to me....the reality and truth of the experience that exceeds the "reality" we live every day. I know those of you who have experienced these kinds of things will understand what I'm saying. Believing in the possibility of these kinds of experiences makes it more likely that you will have them. One thing I have also come to realize about these "otherworldly" experiences is that they have what I call a "perfection of purpose". This means that you can't "will" them to happen. They come as they come, and when they come, it is to fulfill a higher purpose.

Another experience I had after Jimmy (my son) died, was that I had a dream one night that was different from the usual, fragmented dreams I normally have. This dream was very clear, and I was experiencing it as an observer, instead of as the "actor". It followed a clear, somewhat rational path; with a start and finish that seemed more logical than my usual dreams. It felt different in every way from an average "common" dream. In this dream, I saw myself in the "Holodeck" on a space-ship. It was like the "Holodeck" on the Enterprise from the television series that was a sequel to the original "Star Trek". ( This version was called Star Trek: Deep Space Nine) I was in a large room with white walls, and I was alone. The "me" I was watching from above, was unaware that there were not others around, and was unaware that there wasn't a "world" around her. I watched "myself" interacting, talking, and going through the motions of my "life" in this place where the computer generates a three dimensional, holographic, virtual "reality". I then became aware that my son was standing outside the holodeck door, and that the true reality was where he was; right beyond the door. It was vaster and more magnificent than anything I had ever seen.

I believe Jimmy sent me this "vision" because he knew I'd understand and recognize the reference to the television show we'd often watched together late at night. He was showing me something about the nature of reality; it is an illusion. It is a complex virtual exercise designed to give us experience. Quantum physics is proving this to be true....what we perceive to be real is just a construct, the vision that our senses project and create out of the energy waves that are what's really "out there". The other thing I have experienced (in this dream and in some wide awake moments) is being "out of time"...in a place where time does not exist, and you feel a perfect connectedness with everything. Time and space are illusion. We are all projections of the "one" intelligence; like the aspen forest, not many trees, but ONE organism, all connected to the immense root system just below the surface....

I had an extraordinary experience after my husband died in the summer of 2006. In October of that year, I had a visit from some very good friends who were driving to Idaho to visit their daughter. They made a point of driving out of their way to come to Southern Utah to see me. One evening my friend Sue and I were in the downstairs family room talking about my husband Jim. I was on the large couch that stretched across the middle of the room. Sue was sitting to right on the love seat. Behind her on the wall was a large watercolor painting with a glass front. As we were talking I saw, clear as a bell, Jim's reflection in the glass on the painting! It was a reflection of him walking across the area to my left, which would have been directly in front of Sue. I stopped in mid sentence, and yanked my whole body to the left as quickly as I could. Sue went sort of white, as I probably had, and she said: "Shelley, WHAT did you see?!" I had seen my husband from the middle of his chest up, looking as he had in his thirties (he died at 55) with his light brown hair back in place of the grey. There was a chair just to the left of the television facing me that was angled facing both the love seat and chair. It was as if he'd been sitting there, and had stood up and walked across the room. I had caught his "reflection" as he walked by. Of course I didn't see him after I turned, but I had definitely and distinctly seen his reflection in the glass of the painting!

I was amazed and speechless, as was Sue. I told her what I had seen, and though she hadn't seen anything, she had seen my face and my startled response. Though I had had "experiences" of spirit before, I had never seen something like that with my eyes. It was another witness to me of the reality of the fact that our deceased loved ones don't really leave us, they "live" in one way or another.

I haven't written for awhile. I sort of wait until I am "moved" to write. I remembered two other significant (to me) things that occurred shortly after my son died. My daughter was only three when her big brother died. She was aware that Jimmy was gone, and had some very quiet moments. He had been the cutest, most protective big brother. He would walk her up and down the sidewalk, or sit outside on a bench in the yard and watch her as she played in her new pool. He loved to "rescue" her when she'd been put to bed....she just had to call out Jee Jee (her way of saying Jimmy) and he would pick her up out of her crib. He would lay his big frame across the floor, lay on his tummy to get to her level, and play with her in her room. The day after he died I was sitting on the floor of her room, in a state of shock, while she played with her toys. She suddenly said: "Mom, are you sad." I looked up at her and saw that she was still looking down at her toys as she asked me this quiet question. I said "Yes". She asked: "Is it because Jimmy died?" I said yes again, and this is when she looked up, looked me right in the eye, and said with the maturity and authority of a grown up, "You need to be happy like Jimmy." "Is Jimmy happy?" I asked; and she said "Yes!" It was an singular moment. I knew that she KNEW. A couple of weeks later I was sitting on the Stairs in our house sobbing rather loudly. I heard a little voice from around the corner but couldn't hear the words. Brianna was playing under the dining room table, and had tried to tell me something. I said: "What, what did you say?" She said: "Mom, don't cry; Jimmy is here, and he's helping us." She was able to see, understand and hear what I couldn't.

Our deceased loved ones are very much with us, they know what we are going through, and they are helping us.

I have had some experiences of spirit that have shown me that not only are we supported in our losses, but we are also prepared ahead of time. This preparation comes to us on a level above our consciousness. We are either "informed" about a coming event, or we "remember" on a higher, more spiritual level that something is going to happen; something we have "seen" before.

The night before I found my son Jimmy had died, I had a rather unusual experience. It didn't seem particularly unusual at the moment, because I didn't yet have the perspective I would have after Jimmy died, and in light of all that was coming. I was in bed thinking about my grandmother (My Dad's Mother) Hannah. I remembered something I hadn't seen or thought about in years; a family history that my Aunt had written and compiled that I had had in a file cabinet. I got out of bed and went to find it. I don't remember if I read the whole thing, but I do remember reading about Hannah's young life. The thing that stuck out to me was that she had lost an older brother and a younger sister within about a year of each other. She also lost a baby shortly after birth. I was struck by the losses she had suffered and felt not only sympathy for her, but at that moment, felt that she was very near.

I had other preparatory type experiences which I may talk about later. I am still awestruck by, not only the number of singular, spiritual experiences I have had, but by the beauty and personal nature of them. We are known, loved, supported, protected, and prepared by an invisible legion who know what we are going through, and what we will go through before our lives are over.

I just added a picture of my cute husband Jim holding our darling Granddaughter, Abbey. This is the picture we chose for his head stone. He was the cutest guy. He loved his family first, above all else. It will be four years since he died, and I still can't believe he's gone. He was the light, life and heart of our family.

Me again. I don't know that many people will ever read this, but it's therapy for me to write it down.....so here goes.

I had another experience with a butterfly before my son died in 1996. It was just a day or two before he died. I came home from lunch and shopping with my Mom and Brianna. My daughter Bri was just three at the time, and in her car seat in the back seat. As I opened the sliding door on my van to get her out, I noticed a very large yellow and black butterfly lying on it's side on the garage floor. It was alive, and as I picked it up to show Brianna, it perched on my finger. I showed it to Brianna while I was unbuckling her carseat with my other hand. I helped her down out of the car, and said: "Lets take it outside and see if it can still fly. It had a large half moon shaped "bite mark" hole in one wing, so I was not at all sure it could fly. We walked around to the side yard by the garage, and I swung up my hand. The butterfly soared upward and away from us, flying as well as any I had seen. It landed far above in a cottonwood tree. We then went into the house, and forgot about the butterfly. I didn't think of it until sometime after Jimmy had died. I realized that it had been a sign to us. It amazed me that even with such an injury to it's wing, the butterfly could still soar. I think that is true of all of us...life is full of pain and injury, none of us come through it unscathed...yet we can all still soar.

I found out after my experiences with the white butterfly that butterflies are a very real symbol of rebirth. The butterfly doesn't die to be reborn....it is transformed. I think the life cycle of the caterpillar/butterfly is a perfect metaphor for early life and death. The lowly, earthbound caterpillar is transformed into a butterfly, a creature that has grown beautiful wings, and transcends it's earlier incarnation. I believe that is what it is like to die, our energy and personality never dies, we are transformed, and transcend the limits of the physical plane. Quantum Physics tells us that energy is never lost, diminished or destroyed; it just changes form. I have felt the energy and presence of my deceased loved ones on many occasions. They live. Sometimes it is almost enough to know that....other times the physical absence of them pushes me to the edge of endurance. I do try to remember this when life gets hard; there is sooooo much more to life than meets the eye!

Three weeks or so, after my son died, I was cooking breakfast on a Sunday morning for the first time since the Sunday before he died. I stopped for a moment to look at a cute picture of him that I'd put on the fridge door. I felt such a hole in my center, as if a real hole had been blasted through me. I thought: "My family is broken, it's no longer whole." At that moment I felt my son's presence, and I realized that he was standing by the fridge, just to the left of me. At that instant, I felt the hole in me fill up with warmth and peace. In that timeless moment, I also heard (in my mind's ear) my son saying: "Mom, I'm not far away, I'm just out of sight."

I know he spoke the truth, he was very near; but in a form that I couldn't perceive with my earth-eyes. My family IS whole.

I know that this all sounds a little strange, and I'm sure there are those of you (some of my friends and family) who, if you ever come to read this, will think: "Poor Shelley, she's finally gone "round the bend". Well, you may be right, but I don't think so!