In collaboration with “the other side”

“End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass.”—J.R.R. Tolkien taz and me

I’m not big on labels, but if anyone asked, I’d normally sum up my book’s main topic as miracles or gratitude or maybe how to manifest.

When I wanted assistance from the other side, I’d usually appeal to the generic universe or the Holy Spirit or what I often call “The Dude.”

Last thing I expected is the journey I’m on now. A journey of collaboration with loved ones who have a much bigger perspective.

The universe is sneaky like that.

Last week, I mentioned a guest post from a dear friend who has been communing with the other side for a lot longer than me. We connected after Taz passed. Among other things, he has a podcast called “You Bet Your Afterlife.” He’s an incredible writer with great depths of wisdom and humor. Please enjoy this piece from Keith Boyer that I begged him to let me post here. It’s a letter to his dad:

keith

The Incomparable Keith Boyer

“Happy” as a descriptor isn’t generally applied to death.  Not in our spoiled and materialistic Western culture, anyway, blinded by the shine of gold as it is.  But now, a half century later, thanks to you, I see the Light and I feel you, everywhere.

When you graduated Earth School I thought my world had ended.  Your little buddy, your “George,” the last of the immediate breed, was lost, lost, lost with your last breath, never to be found.

Seeing the family gathered around the living room when I arrived home that evening, their faces told the tale I couldn’t bear to hear.  It was no surprise, yet it was abruptly shocking.  I was 12, you 42.  Your life’s mission was, seemingly, prematurely accomplished and suddenly I felt older than time itself.

The boy was lost and no one could find him, not even himself.  But guess what, Dad? I found a new me.

Not necessarily improved, at least not noticeably until many more miles had accumulated on my odometer, but new and different, with adventures that lay before me over roads that would take me places I’d never before dreamed.  I wandered aimlessly down Bereavement Avenue to Terror Street, around Mystery Circle to Ecstasy Highway, and ultimately arrived via Grateful Valley back to the Land of Love, my birthplace, my homeland.

Your love was lost to me, or so I thought then, but guess what, Dad?

Others have taken up your love torch during my lifetime, often to my utter surprise and always to my total delight.

To no one’s surprise, Mom — my heroine, my earthly savior — instantly took up yours and carried it with hers, higher and brighter than any  other, to my eternal gratitude.  Bless her, she carries it still.  You chose well, sir, the best of the best, and I thank you.

More unmistakable, unconditional love was provided just in the nick of time– humbly, graciously, and freely by grateful survivors of one of your diseases, the one I inherited.

I thank you for it all.

For the laughs and the joys and the games with the boys, for the kisses from the girls.

For the feasts, for the drink, for the hunger for more, for the unquenchable thirst for truth wherever it lay hidden.

For the gathering storms of self-inflicted trouble, for the questions with no answers, for the sickness, for the wounds, for the healing.

For the fears, for the tears, for the nights under bright lights, for the creeping, short-lived shadows.

For the grief, for the rage, for the simmering bitterness — the toxic cocktail I guzzled so long that ultimately, helplessly erupted from my guts like St. Helens herself and jolted loose my miracle out of nowhere. Shoot, thanks for the siblings, even.  Wink/nudge.

You’ve known all along, and you came back.  You knew time and space were powerless to stop you, so, by and through Conquering Love you reappeared to save me from myself.

You demonstrated with dizzying dazzle three decades and change after your departure that, after all, you’ve gone exactly nowhere.  Then the best lessons began to rain down on me, drenching me with developing insights and visions that have ripped a lifetime of scales from my eyes and allowed me to see you and everything in existence as we all really are, as we’ve been since before time was birthed.

Light.  Energy.  Vibrational beings, all.  Love taking form, just for awhile.

When I sang my impromptu concert for you tonight, you were there, front and center, thrilling with love and compassion for your new George.  And guess what, Dad?

I felt it in every song.  I’ve been feeling you again for many years now, at long last, after burying you inside myself for so, so long while I wandered, lost, in search of US.

But I don’t have to tell you that WE are now found, and new George is okay. Nay, blessed beyond measure.  With friends in spirit I don’t always feel I deserved in life, yet here they are.  Have you met Mark the mountain man, Carrie the tattooed hippie chic, my Colombian sparkplug Adriana?  And Big Rod makes a mean pizza from scratch, so be sure to look him up. All gone-but-not-gone, too soon.

“Daddy” Dick and Joyce will blow your mind with their talents, their genius, both singly and combined.  Your spirit hands will be red from applause, if they’re not already.  Joyce is a new arrival, but things happen mighty fast in your dimensions, or so I’m told, and she’s quite the quick study.

Oh, Dad!  What an amazing, getting-my-money’s-worth life it’s been so far. In its own time, the reunion to end all reunions will be ours.  I so look forward to the concert you and I and our friends will perform, that royal bash I’ve been planning on the far side of the moon, and to the zippy trips we’ll take across the cosmos and back.  Finally, to maybe give it a go in other lives with new stories to live.

Hope you’re well rested by then.  We’ve got 50 Earth years and counting to make up for.

Thanks again, Dad.  Love beyond words to you, good sir.  You and I may be the only ones who appreciate our paradox, but the life you launched me into, with all its apparent imperfections, is precisely perfect, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Happy anniversary, Dad.  Mission accomplished, indeed.

Pam Grout is the author of 20 books including E-Squared, E-Cubed, Thank & Grow Rich and her latest book, The Course in Miracles Experiment: A Starter Kit for Rewiring Your Mind (And Therefore Your World).

25 Comments on “In collaboration with “the other side”

  1. Ah yes, the afterlife is so incredibly rich and beautiful. To commune with those there is a gift beyond measure. Pull back the veil for a while and delight in what you find there.

  2. Thank you sooo much for sharing this! That was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever read! I too have had my Darling Daddy Dude, as I like to call him, transition over a mere two years ago! He was quite the character and is missed by more people than I can count! I was literally his twin, his mini me! So much so that my mom has always had a saying that fit us perfect, “You couldn’t have been more like your daddy if he had spit you out of his mouth”! I hold the compile to near and dear to my heart. He left exactly 375 DAYS after my special needs son passed at 22! My two”George’s” and yes that was MY dads name and my sons middle name and giving the afterlife a run for its money! 😊😉 Thank you again for sharing! Cindy

    Sent from my iPad

    >

  3. Wow! What a powerful post. I definitely need to spend more time reconnecting with my beloved sister, Jean who died in August 2005. Or even my mom, dad, grandparents, et al. My grief at the time of Jean’s passing was crippling and lasted far too long. It’s time to get caught up with her. Thank you so much for sharing your journey as well as others.

  4. This is, above all, a great testament to the unlimited power of Love. AND it reminds me to connect with those ancestral energies whenever I am running low, to remember the guidance they gave. I am deeply grateful to you for publishing this dear Pam!

  5. Hi Pam! Its Janet ( Gelb ) Lubart – You , Barb Holland and I hung out for years together. I am sorry from the bottom of my heart about your gorgeous daughter. You are an amazing, beautiful woman and I look forward to following as well as learning from you.

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

  6. I’ve been fortunate enough to have been able to commune with those “on the other side” for a long time, even though for a while I wasn’t quite sure what it was that was going on. I’ve even been there myself with a NDE at age 15 months. My mother passed in 1979. We did not have the best of relationships on Planet Earth, but we’ve had a great one these past 40 years. We’ve both mellowed and get along a lot better now. My father passed 20 years before that, and I was fortunate to finally have a conversation with him about his perspective of keeling over with a heart attack at age 49 with a business, wife and four children and an entire community dependent upon him. In February, my beloved husband passed, but it has been as if he has never left. He still comes and climbs in bed with me in the mornings, and we have “cuddle” time. Saturday he was with me at a gospel concert telling me I still didn’t know how to “clap black” and enjoying the music as much as I did. In September, he went with me on a 5,000 mile trip to New England and back, and he tells me he enjoyed it so much more this time because now he has eyes to see, when in the physical world he had been totally blind his whole life. He says he is now playing piano with “the greatest jazz band in the sky” and having a great time. And now I have to say “till we meet again” to my also beloved sister who is facing her transition in a few months. It is a dichotomy, they are with me at the same time they are not, and sometimes I feel as if I am in this world but not of it too. I look forward to our reunion and the fabulous party we will have when we are all together once again.

    • Such a powerful post! Thank you for sharing, I to have felt cuddles and kisses from my man, after he transitioned, who I did not appreciate enough in life. Another new relationship with him now, how lucky am I?

  7. Wow! Just wow. I feel so inarticulate because it seems like no words can truly emphasise the gravity of this beautiful post. Touching to the point I cried. Thank you (both of you) so much for sharing. Once again, something I read shifts me to a deeper level of understanding, filling me with so much love and gratitude.

  8. Thank you for sharing this guest post Pam. My mom passed just over a week ago. I’m looking for signs That she’s with me. What I definitely feel is her loving presence.

  9. WOW! This is so amazing, I want to read more! And you bet your afterlife I’m gonna look up the podcast! Thank you, Pam and Keith!
    Love just is.
    ❤️🎵Virginia

  10. Pam- Thanks to you and Keith for sharing. I met you at your workshop at Omega 2 summers ago. I lost my sister/best friend suddenly at 32, which was 19 years ago. She was born on 3/22, so 22 and 222 have always been signs to me from her. Even though I never met Taz on this realm, I often envision her and Karen as best friends- guiding me each day:) Hugs- Krista

  11. Full of emotion and enlightenment, simply beautiful to read and to feel it.
    Thank you.
    With Love – Linda.

  12. Thank you so much for sharing that Pam. I lost my husband suddenly 25 years ago. We still talk daily.
    Kath

  13. Hi Pam!
    My name is Kandis and I’ve been a long time follower of yours and always look forward to getting your emails, they’re like fuel for my
    soul! 😊
    I was driving last Saturday (10/19) and this car pulled in front of me with this license plate. I floored it to get close enough to take this picture for you. I feel this was meant for me to send you (I’m a huge license plate reader). So I hope this brings you a little joy.
    Much love,
    Kandis Kirchoff

    [cid:E2530340-6C41-40BA-AB1A-300E4580A080]

    Sent from my iPhone

  14. This I believe. This I am grateful for. Thank you. Once again, the timing is exquisite. I lost my husband to cancer just over two years ago, and a breast to cancer shortly thereafter. I talk with him every day. Though I ache for his body, I feel his spirit all around me … prodding me on … so, on we go. Much Love, Lovely Lady … and Keith. ❤

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