Because of what Kyle has been able to do from his new home, we not only know he still lives, but more importantly we also know he is the same person now, with the same personality, the same sense of humor and the same interests. In addition, we also discovered that he is aware of everything in the physical world. I never planned on writing a book. But the overwhelming evidence of life beyond death that kept coming my way brought me peace and comfort.
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I knew there had to be a reason God had given me so many blessings. I knew I had to share this story with you so that my blessing can become your blessing.
I wanted you to understand that love never ends; it only grows. And more importantly, I wanted you to see that the death of a loved one can afford each of us the opportunity to grow in a way that can only strengthen our bond with the very special person we will love and be with forever. I know I will be with Kyle again. After reading Quit Kissing My Ashes , you too will know your loved ones will always be a part of your life, now and throughout eternity.
When I came out from under the grogginess of the anesthetic on March 12, , my first words were, What did I have? Eight pounds, seven ounces, she answered. Excitedly, I said, Oh good! Then we can keep him. Looking back, I guess the nurse must have thought I was crazy. But earlier that year, on February 10th, my husband, Jim who is an avid fisherman, had landed an eight pound three ounce largemouth bass.
It was the largest bass he had ever caught. He sent it to a taxidermist and had it mounted. Later, a picture of him and his prize catch appeared in the local newspaper. At that time, Jim had jokingly said the baby I was carrying had better weigh more than his fish, or we'd have to throw it back. Kyle was our third child and only son. His two sisters, Jill and Jamie, were nine and seven years older. When I saw my husband for the first time after giving birth, he was crying.
I immediately thought something must be wrong with the baby because I had never seen my husband cry before. I kept questioning Jim, but he reassured me that all was fine, and they were only tears of joy. The next time I saw my husband cry was on April 25, , after I received the phone call no one wants to get.
When I picked up the phone at that night, my life changed forever. Kyle, then twenty-six years of age, had been in an automobile accident. I knew it was serious when I asked how he was and was told that he was breathing. Kyle had been driving fast and did not have on his seat belt. He apparently was reaching for a CD on the floorboard of his Bronco when he slid onto the shoulder of the road.
In his attempt to regain control, he overcorrected, hit a bridge railing and was thrown eighty feet, landing between two bridges. Hitting his head upon landing, Kyle suffered severe head trauma. When I saw him in intensive care, his body had no visual signs of any injury. He looked as if he were in a peaceful sleep; however, we were given no hope from the beginning. The doctor told us it was a mortal injury and even suggested we should consider organ donation. Though we were given no hope for Kyle's survival, we prayed he could somehow live.
After two days in intensive care and tests that showed there was no oxygen getting to his brain, we decided to take him off life-support and donate all of his organs. The funeral and the days following all seemed like a blur. The pain that a parent endures upon the loss of a child is indescribable. I loved Kyle so much. Jamie had gotten the name of a grief therapist while at the funeral. About a week after Kyle's death, I made an appointment with her, grasping for anything that might help me. I felt as if I had no reason to get out of bed, no reason to exist.
I did not want to live without Kyle. For some reason, both Jim and I were obsessed with Kyle and his happiness.
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Often people were surprised that we had other children. It was always Kyle this and Kyle that. Before his death, people sometimes joked that when they died, they wanted to come back as our third child. It was evident we loved Kyle dearly and felt we could never give him enough love. I have since learned from talking with many other parents of deceased children and receiving the gift of spirituality Kyle's death brought, that on a soul level I knew Kyle would not be with us for very long.
Quit Kissing My Ashes : A Mother's Journey Through Grief by Judy Collier (2002, Hardcover)
Many other parents who have lost a child, upon reflection, have sensed the same feeling. Sister Rita, more or less, listened to me talk about my heartache. She was a comfort in that she told me Kyle did live on, that he was in a much better place, and that I would one day be with him again. But for a person who has had little religious upbringing or knowledge of the spiritual realm, I was grasping at whatever hope I could find.
After three grief sessions with Sister Rita, she mentioned she had the name of someone who might be able to help me. It was then that she wrote down the name of Mary Jo McCabe on a piece of paper. I don't really remember if I were told she could communicate with the dead or exactly what she did, but I do remember calling for an appointment as soon as I got home.
I was in excruciating pain and grief, but more importantly, I was concerned about Kyle. I wanted to know he was okay. As any parent knows, love and concern for their child lasts for a lifetime. Trust me, it does not end with their death. The concern escalates to unimaginable heights. I was totally unaware of any possibility of after-death communication.
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I had never heard of the term nor had I ever thought it existed. I had absolutely no knowledge of any paranormal activities. I knew there were psychics but thought it was all a scam. I had twice encountered a fortune teller at a carnival during my first two pregnancies and was told both times that the baby would be a boy.
Since there was a fifty percent chance they would be correct and since I delivered a girl both times, I didn't have much faith in this so-called ability.
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This skepticism on my part enables me to understand others' skepticism when I tell them of what I now know to be true. It's so frustrating because I know our lives never end. It is because of this frustration that I am writing this book to share my truth. I had to wait three weeks before I could get an appointment with Mary Jo because of her growing recognition and popularity.
Now it is a six month wait. When I walked into her office, I looked around at the surroundings, finding comfort in how normal the place looked and how tastefully it was decorated. Later, when I met Mary Jo, I was stunned at how attractive she was.
Quit Kissing My Ashes: A Mother's book by John Edward
She was also very compassionate. We sat down, and I told her that my son had died in a car accident. It was then she told me she had a son and could not imagine the pain of losing a child.
In the past three years I have come to know Mary Jo personally, and I know how much her only child, Bhrett, means to her. So on some level, I believe she can imagine at least some of my pain. After a few minutes, Mary Jo closed her eyes and went into a trance, something I had never seen before. She took a few deep breaths and began speaking with a different accent. The first thing Mary Jo said was that I was being presented with a bear, a brown bear.
If it didn't have any meaning to me now, it would later. Little did she know how my heart jumped and began racing. How do you give a dnr on your child?