Timeless Spirituality
Timeless Spirituality, hosted by Daniel "The Past Life Regressionist," is a captivating podcast that explores the depths of spirituality and its connection to time. Join Daniel and his guests as they delve into past life regression, astrology, and the timeless essence of existence. With occasional humorous moments, this podcast offers profound insights, making it a unique blend of enlightening entertainment. Tune in to connect with your inner self and uncover the totality of who you are and who you've been throughout time.
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Timeless Spirituality
Ep. 94 - The Mirror of Time VII: Metamorphosis (Solo)
Part three of five
The Mirror of Time V: Vagabond
The Mirror of Time VI: Sweetness
The Mirror of Time VII: Metamorphosis
The Mirror of Time VIII: Generations
The Mirror of Time IX: Home
The narrative continues with an emotional journey that begins with a simple celebration and evolves into a reflection on love, loss, and change. The story takes a poignant turn as a loved one faces a sudden health crisis, leaving Daniel to grapple with life's fragility and the concept of home.
Through personal anecdotes, we confront the realities of grief, the comfort found in shared humanity, and the difficult decision of whether to witness a loved one's final moments.
The episode culminates in the blending of the past and present, and the exploration of new beginnings; a metamorphosis, if you will.
According to Webster's, the word metamorphosis is described as a striking alternation in appearance, character or circumstances. In other words, it's one in such as the transition a caterpillar goes through on its journey to becoming a butterfly, the human journey of childhood to adulthood, or the transition we can't see the world of the living into whatever form or formless appearance, or perhaps even nothingness, we may take once we've left the earth. And as for the question I pose to you, can a home undergo a metamorphosis? Chapter 26, march 2014,. The Metamorphosis.
Speaker 1:If you're counting, this was five years and seven months after the hardest day of my life. It was a Sunday afternoon in March, beautiful day, and I was at a party in the backyard at my dad and stepmom, linda's house. The occasion? A party in celebration of my dad, an ice cream party I mean, I am my father's child, after all. However, his birthday wasn't for another month. Linda had sent the invitations out months before and that's how long it resided on my bulletin board. And, as is customary at a party for my dad, his friends got up and gave speeches, some of which were even a little funny, and a few of them even said what is this party even for? And as the loving roast continued. Linda sat there with a smile on her face, so proud and happy to be celebrating my dad. You see, my dad is one of, if not just simply, the greatest guy in the world. He shares his love unconditionally and it may sound a little cliche, but he truly does have a heart of gold. And at that point my dad and Linda were a few months shy of their 12th wedding anniversary. To say they were pretty much the perfect couple, well, that would be an understatement. I'd only seen them argue over one thing air conditioning. I'm not personally a fan of yelling, but in this case it was sweet music to my ears when I would hear Linda yell. It is too fucking hot in here. And it was my dad's not someone who likes to keep the air conditioner running at night in the middle of summer and at the height of any given heat wave. But I digress Back to the party. So there Linda sat, so happy to see how many people loved and appreciated my dad.
Speaker 1:Now, it was no secret to anyone at the party that Linda had been experiencing some health issues, but I think only she could sense how truly dire they were. I stood up and gave my speech and thanked my dad for being him, and then I thanked him for taking care of Linda and I while we were sick as dogs. Now, that line didn't land for me that day, but a few weeks later, along with another memory from 2009,. It ended up haunting me every night when I go to sleep. And then I left the party that afternoon completely unaware that it would be the last time I'd ever seen Linda up and about.
Speaker 1:Now the timeline on this one is a little foggy for me, but I'm fairly confident it couldn't have been more than a day or two until my dad took Linda to check into the hospital. For months her tests had shown that she had liver issues, but the doctors weren't quite sure what was going on. Day after day she would deteriorate faster and faster, and every day I'd tell my dad I was going to come down to the hospital, but he'd tell me that it wasn't necessary and that I should save my energy. Then, about a week into Linda's stay, I went over to my mom's house for dinner, and I'll never forget the evening where we were sitting at the kitchen table and my mom relayed a message from my uncle, who's a doctor. He said it wasn't looking good and that Linda's chances were at about 50%, that is, a 50-50 chance of survival.
Speaker 1:At that point the test results came back and she tested positive for something called Wilson's disease. Wilson's is a really fucked up and rare genetic liver disease. So the good news is that if you have it, you're automatically bumped up to the top of the transplant list. Yippee, right, things were looking up. But shortly after the doctors came back and said that they'd misread the test and that she didn't have Wilson's disease, from what I hear, the wind was sucked out of the room and she was bumped from the top of the list back to the bottom. So the question then became if she didn't have Wilson's disease, why was she deteriorating so rapidly? And then I'll never forget the call I received a few days later.
Speaker 1:On the morning of March 30th, my dad was on the other end of the line and he told me Linda had a massive seizure and was now brain dead. She was on life support and decisions were being made. I mean, I guess, when your liver isn't working properly, shit like that can happen. So I drove down to the hospital, finally realizing the magnitude of the situation, and when I arrived I peeked in Linda's room in the ICU and it was the first time that I'd ever seen her in a hospital bed. And that's when the guilt hit me like a sack of bricks, as just a few weeks earlier, I stood up at my dad's party and thanked him for taking care of Linda and I, who I said were sick as dogs. But I, I, wasn't as sick as a dog. I was a little over a month away from my 28th birthday and I found myself able to take a shower that morning, unassisted.
Speaker 1:And as the hours rolled by, the family was gathered out in the hall and Linda's sister started talking about what I perceived at the time to be some woo-woo book about a child who had had a near-death experience, went to heaven and came back, and that book was called Heaven is for Real. And as she was sharing the story, on the outside I was nodding along, but on the inside I was rolling my eyes. Oh, how times have changed. Anyways, a few hours later, I went back to my place and received an update. A doctor reread the test and discovered that Linda did in fact have Wilson's disease. Linda did in fact have Wilson's disease. Same test, different result, same paper, different result, different eyes, different result. You'd think they would have double-checked that shit before tragedy strikes, but that's another conversation. So that night Linda found herself back in a similar place, back at the top of the transplant list, and, what do you know, a liver was on the way.
Speaker 1:To say I was conflicted well, that would be an understatement. I wanted so badly for Linda to live. But what would her quality of life be? And not only that, if she received a liver, wasn't that taking one away from someone who actually had a fighting chance? Hers was gone. But, mr Doctor, cover your Ass. Top of the Ladder, md. Well, he wanted to go ahead with the surgery because, well, you know, a few hours earlier, before they reread the test, he was saying that she was going to be a vegetable for the rest of her life. But now he's optimistic that there'd be a different outcome. I believe at that point my family shared his optimism, but the magnitude of the situation that I began to feel earlier that day finally fully set in. For me. This was selfish, and not the selfishness of my family, but the selfishness of one doctor and his precious statistics.
Speaker 1:Later that evening, in an email to all of Linda's extended family and friends, my dad described the night like an action scene. The family stood at the window and watched as a helicopter hovered over the roof. Then the Oregon transporters did double backflips out of the chopper and hastily put on their harnesses. Midair, weightless and defying gravity. They then attached to ropes and descended down the side of the hospital. They then shattered the windows and disengaged from the ropes, got down on their knees and presented the cooler containing the liver. The surgeon, dressed in a pair of olive bell bottoms and a red kimono, rode in on a golden stallion and then heroically held the liver over his head and operatically sang Come with me if you want to live. All of the doctors and nurses gathered around in a circle, followed by the blind who could now see in the lame, who were leaping down the hallways doing somersaults, all while removing their feeding tubes and catheters with ease. The surgeon then cradled the liver like a newborn and the crowd erupted with cheers.
Speaker 1:Now I'm not sure if it actually went down this way, but sometimes I let my dad have his moment, or maybe I'm just misremembering. Or maybe I'm just misremembering. Fast forward a few hours. The surgery is a success, but the surgery was a success. The surgery was a success. Doctor, cover your ass, congratulations, you covered your ass.
Speaker 1:In the following days I must have called my dad at least half a dozen times a day for updates and, from what I remember, linda's body was taking well to the new liver, but there was no improvement with the noggin. Just give it a little more time, the doctor would say. And we did give it more time, just shy of a month Writing pause A note from the author. There's still a lot to go with this particular entry, but I felt now would be the perfect time for me to pause and have a moment of reflection. As I look back into the mirror of time, I see that there is still anger I hold towards this particular doctor. But after all, he is only human, an important piece in my tapestry, the tapestry that is all of us, all there is and all there ever will be. He has his journey and I have mine and, as you will come to see, I don't believe I'd be speaking to all of you right now if it weren't for him. And as I have, most of, if not all of my clients say at at least one point during a regression I forgive you, I release you and I let you go Back to the story In September of 2009,.
Speaker 1:I and the rest of the family were in the hospital by my grandfather's side as he passed away. I was happy to be with him in his final moments, but it was damn near impossible for me to get that visual of him gasping for his last breaths of air out of my head, and every night it would permeate my mind and make going to sleep a really frightening experience. So when it came time for us to take Linda off life support, I had solidly made up my mind. I would say goodbye, but I wouldn't be there for her final moments. The decision was made and the date and time of removal off life support was all set. It could happen in one day, or it could be a week or more. That's what we were told.
Speaker 1:Due to the prognosis of Linda really having no quality of life, even if she were to survive, I found myself in favor of removal. Yet I begged my dad to wait just a little bit longer. Even just a day would do it. Dad, please don't take her off life support that day. Why? Deed? She said. And in that moment I realized my dad was not only losing the love of his life, but he also had lost all sense of time. So why is it that I wanted him to wait another day? Simple, I didn't want him to forever associate that particular day with Linda's death.
Speaker 1:As Linda was set to be taken off life support on my dad's birthday the day before removal, my decision was still intact. I'd be there tomorrow morning to say goodbye, and that was it. Then, from the hospital, I drove back to my place crushed. I had an event to go to that evening and I decided to still go as I felt it would be a good distraction a reunion with some of my college friends, march 16th, 2023, at 10.12pm. I now take a writing pause as I send a text message to a friend of mine who I haven't seen in a few years. Got you on my mind, buddy.
Speaker 1:I was just thinking about our reunion in April of 2014. It was the night before my stepmom was taken off life support. I'll never forget just being in a state of shock and having you there with me, thank you. I couldn't make it through the text without breaking down and crying, reflecting on how lucky I am to have such amazing people in my life. And, after a few years of not seeing each other and a few minutes of texting. We planned a dinner for two weeks from now, back to 2014.
Speaker 1:Our reunion that night was at a brewery, and I didn't do much socializing Well, understandably so. I just sat there thinking about Linda. Then my buddy came and sat down next to me and asked what was new. I then deliberated whether or not I should do the standard same shit different day, or actually say what was going on, call it divine intervention or me finally allowing the dam to crack a little bit. But whatever it was, I just said what was going on. My stepmom is being taken off life support tomorrow. His eyes began to tear up and he gave me a big hug. Then he talked about his mom a bit, and when he had lost her a few years prior. Then he talked about his mom a bit, and when he had lost her a few years prior. I didn't need to be distracted, I just needed this conversation and I could see it in his eyes. He'd give anything to have another day with his mom, and at that reunion, surrounded by some of my closest friends and guys I hadn't seen for many years, things became clear Linda was still here.
Speaker 1:I left the brewery and went back to my place to pack. If this was to be Linda's last night, she was not going to spend it alone. I arrived at the hospital shortly after, carrying a paper grocery bag containing my toiletries, my iPad and a notebook, and in the emptiness of night this place now felt like a ghost town. I hadn't made many trips to the hospital in the preceding month, but when I was there it was bustling at the seams, sometimes with more wall-to-wall people than some of the world's largest airports. I suppose the normal downstairs business of the day served as a distraction from the reality of that building. This was a home for people who were sick or dying, and there she was in bed, my stepmom, who I loved dearly, hooked up to machines keeping her alive, watched over by wonderful people keeping an eye on her and the machines.
Speaker 1:I truly believe that I've largely let most of my anger go from Linda's ordeal in the hospital, but what I can say with confidence is nurses aren't doing it for the money or prestige, and they have my undying respect and admiration, and that is something you can't buy. And that night the nurse had an unregistered patient to look after Me, and she did it without me even having to ask. And as I sit here now. I'm slightly ashamed to say that I can't remember her name, but I will never forget her actions, her name, but I will never forget her actions. She made sure I had everything I needed and that night I was taken care of.
Speaker 1:The recliner in the room remained in the same place. It had been in for over a month, the same recliner where my dad sat and slept for days on end with Linda before she had her massive seizure. It hadn't moved in all that time. And then I wondered did every room have a recliner, a home for those watching over their loved ones? Did they feel a sense of purpose as tears graced their arms? Or were they simply chairs without life? And this is how things began to change.
Speaker 1:During my stay at the hospital, I began to look at life and death through a new lens. Maybe it wasn't so black and white. And that night the chair did have a sheet, and on top of that sheet was me, and on top of me was a blanket given to me by the nurse, and next to me were the loud machines keeping me awake. My health wasn't great, but I didn't care about the noise. Those machines were keeping Linda alive. She wasn't there, but she was still physically alive.
Speaker 1:As the night rolled on, I didn't sleep one bit. Sometimes I'd be lying on the recliner and sometimes I'd be walking around the room talking to Linda. In one night I found myself going through all of the stages of grief on a continuous cycle. I'd ask Linda what I could do to make this right, and then I'd thank her for all she'd done for me what I could do to make this right and then I'd thank her for all she'd done for me. Sometimes I'd walk outside, walk around and then go back inside and then repeat the cycle all over again. My heart was breaking, and breaking for everyone who knew Linda. And then my heart broke for the world because, even if the inhabitants didn't know her, I was confident that they would feel her absence.
Speaker 1:And then, around 4am, I walked down the street to purchase a birthday card for my dad and on the walk I felt the ground beneath my feet, wondering about the meaning of life. Was this all real or was it an illusion? But it couldn't be an illusion because the emotional pain I felt well, that was real. The weight of my upper body compressing the lower half against the ground, that felt real. The few stars I could see in the city night sky. Well, they appeared to be real. And then, soon the sun would rise and I'd have to say my goodbyes. I mean, no one was holding a gun to my head, but my mind was still firmly made up. I was not going to be there after the plug was pulled. I would not risk an additional haunting nighttime visual, as one was already enough. My mind was made up and no one was going to change it.
Speaker 1:After I picked up the card, I walked to a nearby donut shop for breakfast. The sign it said closed, and as I sit here today I can't remember what time it opened. Inside I saw a cook prepping the donuts and I wondered how long had he worked there? If it was long. Did he consider this place to be a home, or was it just a means to an end? I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered if he was happy, I wondered if he was sad. I then wondered about all the times I'd been in my car driving and in my own little world, and I wondered if I'd ever been in a state of oblivion, next to a fellow driver on their way home from the hospital where they had to say goodbye to a loved one. I wondered if, when I went inside to get donuts, if the person behind the counter would have any idea how sad I was. I wondered if the multiple donuts I was set to purchase would cheer me up. I wondered what the meaning donuts I was set to purchase would cheer me up. I wondered what the meaning was to the word wondered. And then I pondered with wonder if I'd ever understand the biggest existential question of all why the sun was making its way into the sky as the donut shop opened.
Speaker 1:And I did what I set out to do. I bought some motherfucking donuts. I bought a few for me and then I bought my dad's favorite, an apple fritter. The donuts were delightful, but they did not change the reality of the situation. When I went back to the hospital, I'd have to say goodbye to Linda, but at that point Mr Stubborn me. Well, he'd already changed some of the plans from the original, but we'll get to that part soon. When I got back to the hospital, I said my goodbyes to Linda before everyone got there. It was hard, to say the least, but I also felt very confident with my decision to not be there for the time of removal Shortly after my dad arrived and he was a bit confused to see me there.
Speaker 1:He asked how long I'd been there and I told him all night. I could tell that he was touched. But it didn't really matter to me because for once in my life I didn't need the validation. I just needed to make sure that Linda wouldn't be alone for a single sec in the previous night and now in the morning. So my original plan Earlier that week my dad had informed me that Linda had some unused gift certificates in her account at a local massage parlor which he then gave to me, and he gave me a recommendation for which massage therapist I should request.
Speaker 1:From what I remember, removal from life support was set to take place around 11 am. So my original plan was to get a massage at 8 am, then head over to the hospital right after. I knew it wouldn't make me feel better emotionally, but at least I could enjoy this gift from Linda before I went to say goodbye. I guess in my mind I also thought that it would be a somber experience had I gone after she passed away, even if it were weeks later. So when it was time for me to leave I could tell my dad was a little disappointed that I wasn't going to be there with the rest of the family. But I explained to him that I'd been there all night and I said what I needed to say. But I didn't tell him the real reason why I was leaving. I was afraid. Then, before I left, I handed my dad the birthday card and he was a little confused. Then he opened it and he realized it was his birthday. I gave him a hug and told him I loved him. Then I gave him his donut and I told him I'd see him soon. He flashed a little smile and took a bite of his donut. And then I picked up my paper grocery bag and as I was about to leave he asked me don't you have a real duffel bag? And then I looked at him as if to say really, that's what you're concerned about right now.
Speaker 1:On a side note, here's a little fun fact about me. I don't like to put a name on the envelope of a birthday card. Frankly, I find the practice to be stupid. Why would I put the person's name on it? I mean, if it were for a joint birthday party, I suppose that would make sense. But I am handing the card to the person, implying it's for them, and if it's not even handing it to them, it is putting it on a table at their birthday slash, party slash, whatever it is. So, long story short, if there's anything I ask you to take away from this piece, it's that. Why do we put names on birthday card envelopes?
Speaker 1:Anyways, I arrived for my massage exhausted beyond belief, as I had been up for at least 24 hours at that point. I then laid face down on the table and I was sad to say the least. But well, no buts, I was just sad. The massage therapist came in and she got to work and she had noticed that the gift certificate came from Linda's account. So she asked about the connection, as Linda had been one of her regulars. I told her that I was Linda's stepson, and she asked me how Linda was, as she said she hadn't seen her in a few months.
Speaker 1:So there I was with the task of delivering the bad news, and when I did, she began to cry and asked me how I was doing with all of it. But I didn't know what to say. So there's only one thing left to do. I cried too, and once the tears subsided, I thought about my firm stance against being at Linda's bedside once the plug had been pulled. But no, my mind had been made up. No, I was not going to change it. But then I played a game. What would Linda do? And I asked myself would Linda be at my bedside, even if she knew that she'd carry the burden of that visual with her for the rest of her life? And the answer was yes. So in that moment I did something incredibly uncharacteristic of Mr Stubborn Taurus I changed my mind, and I even took it one step further. Not only would I go back to the hospital once my massage was finished, but I vowed to myself that I'd also sleep at that hospital every night, no matter how long it took, because Linda would not die alone. I wouldn't allow it, because that's what she would do for me.
Speaker 1:Night one came and went, and all I remember from that first night was a standing request that I had with the nurse Please let me know if it looks like Linda is taking a turn. A little while after I woke up the next morning, the nurse notified me that it looked like it was time. So I went ahead and I called my aunt and asked her to notify everyone else, but it was already at that ripe time when everyone was already heading over for the day, and within minutes they hell started to arrive, and I felt relieved knowing that Linda wasn't going to be alone. When she passed away, and for the next few hours I made my way between the waiting room and hallways waiting for word that Linda had left her body. But she kept hanging on, and sometime around noon I decided to go back to my place and get a few hours of sleep, and as soon as I arrived at my place I called my dad to ask how it was looking. And Linda, she was showing some signs of improvement. Not signs of improvement, improvement, but also not looking like it was the end. So I went to sleep for a few hours, and then I called my dad as soon as I woke up, and Linda was still in the same boat. So it was then time for me to head back to the hospital.
Speaker 1:As I previously mentioned, in the paper grocery bag I had brought with me to the hospital I had a notebook, and that night I took it out and sat at Linda's bedside, began to write my speech for her funeral. I thought it was only appropriate for me to run everything past her, even if I wasn't receiving any physical confirmation as to whether or not she approved as I wrote it, I felt the anger simmering. None of this, none of it, felt fair. I walked to the window and I looked at the street below, watching people walk by aimlessly with their own thoughts and problems in tow. Then I fixed my gaze across the city, witnessing the twinkling of the lights in the distance. I wondered why? Why do they twinkle that way? Is it the wind, an optical illusion? Or is it one of God's numerous ways of letting us know that there's more to the world than what meets the eye? My mind wandered further into the philosophical, again, asking the grandest question of all why?
Speaker 1:The next morning came and went, as did my few-hour reprieve back at my place, and then back at the hospital, I experienced something I'll never forget. I walked in circles in Linda's hospital room, bawling my eyes out. I knew I didn't have the brain of a doctor, but I did have the ability to multiply three times three and for the most part I always believed in my intelligence. So I relied on my street smarts to find a solution to Linda's predicament. If they wouldn't figure it out, I would. I knew I couldn't, but I thought I could.
Speaker 1:I felt so defeated as I continued to cycle through all of the stages of grief. Then the room became claustrophobic, so I made my way out into the hall, sweating up a storm and sporting hair that looked like the product of a child playing with a spoon and an electrical outlet. Yet the adult version of me believed I could bend that spoon with my mind. But I also believed that I didn't have it in me, not that at the time I was ever one to indulge in the bending of silver spoons. My breathing then shallowed away from Linda's ventilators. I walked the halls of the ICU feeling the thinning of veils. I'd never peered through before. I felt the hospital floor beneath my feet and again the ground felt real. I heard a nurse on the intercom speaking hospital language, and the noise sounded real. I saw the occupied rooms lining the hallway and they looked well occupied.
Speaker 1:Some might chalk up what I felt next to a bit of delirium from the lack of sleep and emotional overload. Hell, for years even I did. I've never microdosed before, but from what I hear it's like feeling a soft breeze compared to a strong gust of wind, and that day at the hospital I felt the slightest bit of euphoria making its way through my essence, not my body, but what I believe to be my soul. I'm not a church or temple-going guy and I've never been one to get down on my knees and pray. So I'm just going to come out and say it. I believe that is my first memory of truly feeling the presence of God. I can't remember how I reacted to that tiny little euphoric tickle, but somehow in that moment I knew my life would never be the same.
Speaker 1:Later that night I made the same request to the nurses as I had the previous nights at Hotel Hospital Please let me know if it looks like Linda's taking a turn. And early the next morning, around 4 am, I received the wake-up call. I hopped up and called my aunt and asked her to notify everyone else. I'm not going to lie. I was low-key, freaking out, as I knew it would be a while before anyone would show up. But I made a promise and I was going to keep it. Linda would not die alone.
Speaker 1:So I did what I thought was the only sensible thing to do. I begged and pleaded with Linda. Please, please, please, don't go yet. I want you to be free from your pain, but please don't leave yet. Just hold on for a few more hours. I knew it was a selfish request, but I'll be the first one to admit that I don't lead a truly altruistic life. I paced around the room then again, held Linda's hand and thanked her for everything. Thanked her for being there, thanked her for being there when I needed her the most, thanked her for saving my life. Then I felt a momentary lack of selfishness and proclaimed Linda, you can go now.
Speaker 1:But the moment didn't last long, as I swung back around to asking her to hold on a bit longer. I'd be focused on her and then I'd turn around and look at the clock, pretending I was in an action movie, because backup generally arrives when the good guy is looking at a clock. But this was the real world and there are no heroes or villains in this story, just flawed people and my wonderful stepmother in a hospital bed. And just like two days before, as soon as everyone began to arrive, I made my way out of the ICU room. But the exhaustion of everything was catching up with me and, unlike two days before, I didn't roam the halls.
Speaker 1:That morning I went into a waiting room and collapsed into a chair. I woke up a few hours later, just shy of 9am. I'm generally a pretty light sleeper, but somehow that morning members of the family had just graduated from ninja school and somehow tiptoed their way into the waiting room without waking me from ninja school and somehow tiptoed their way into the waiting room without waking me. I can't remember who was there, but I do remember asking how's Linda, and Linda was still alive. I'll be damned Well, that's what I thought. Then made my way back into Linda's room for a quick check and at the time there were three people in there. I wish I could remember the third, but the other two were my aunt and my mom. That's right. My mother was in my stepmom's ICU room. How lucky am I Seeing that Linda was surrounded with love.
Speaker 1:I went downstairs to the cafeteria for breakfast. I remember getting French toast and seeing the busyness of this house of sickness Doctors, nurses, the staff who kept the place running and hospital goers and goer patrons all clamoring for hospital cafeteria food, probably carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. I then carried my French toast to the checkout counter, then walked down the main corridor to the elevators, knowing this was the day my stepmother would leave this world. Once I exited the elevator I went back to the waiting room and had a seat next to my dad, and then one of the lower-level docs came into the waiting room with a different demeanor than I remember him sporting prior to that moment. I don't remember his name, but I do remember him being one of the doctors that I liked. I'll just say I'm glad it was him to enter the room that morning, as I wasn't particularly fond of a certain doctor there, but that resolve will come later. Fond of a certain doctor there, but that resolve will come later. Doc I liked. He didn't need to say a word. We already knew what he was there to tell us.
Speaker 1:I turned to my right and saw utter devastation fall over my father's face. Everyone in the room gathered around him, but I remained in my chair. I thought to myself about what had transpired earlier that morning. As I said my goodbyes to Linda and begged her not to leave just yet, I felt that tinge of euphoria again, as I truly believed she could hear me as I was speaking to her. Then I continued to cut my French toast without shedding a tear. I opened the syrup package and submerged my first bite of the bread, and then another, and then another, and then another. Everyone in the room was despondent, but not me. I was fucking pissed.
Speaker 1:Now, what I didn't mention earlier Was that I could tell that the main doctor was primarily looking out for himself. But I do believe that he main doctor was primarily looking out for himself, but I do believe that he did want to save Linda's life, yet, first and foremost, worried about the ramifications of his actions and the members of his team. So here I was fully aware that it was a disease that took my stepmother's life, but I was furious at the actions of one man who carried prestige and distinction, and, as you'll hear from what follows, please know I see everything from a different perspective now, but at the time it was easier for me to take my anger out on this man than to grieve with my family. So I left the waiting room and made my way down to the other side of the building where his office was. I walked up to the front desk and I asked to speak with the doctor. I was notified that he was in surgery. So, with a smile on my face, I said please let him know that Linda, my stepmother, passed away, and please let him know that her stepson came to thank him in person. Now you're probably asking yourself was I there to hurt him? And the answer is no. I'm not a fucking idiot. I went in there to look him in the eye and strike the fear of God into him, plain and simple. All I needed was a glance, but he wasn't there and I was too exhausted to wait around.
Speaker 1:After leaving his office, I went back to Linda's ICU room to gather my things and say goodbye to the family, as I was set to see them later that evening in my aunt's house. And this wasn't my aunt who's my dad's sister. This is my aunt who is my mom's sister. How lucky am I. This is my aunt who is my mom's sister. How lucky am I? Anyways, I well in my mind.
Speaker 1:I stoically shuffled my way through the crowded lobby with my head down and the care of a kamikaze, and as I continued my stride, in front of me rested a pair of scrubs and shoes pointed in my direction. Now, this wasn't an uncommon sight, considering I was well in a hospital, but something told me to look up, so I did. I made my way up the lakes and then a lab coat made an appearance. On the lab coat, there was a name I recognized stitched into the left breast pocket. There was a name I recognized stitched into the left breast pocket. And now, as I look back at this moment, I can't help but wonder was this a convergence point of some sort? And as I stood there in front of the lab coat, the hospital lobby now felt similar to the ICU hallway from the night before. I felt the floor beneath me and the ground felt real. I heard the chatter of the passerbys, the noise sounded real, and then I saw the surgical mask on the man standing in front of me, and his fear was real, as he recognized who I was.
Speaker 1:Some would call this moment divine orchestration, and some may call it simply serendipitous, but me, I don't fit solely into either camp, as through my anger and grief, I could see this moment for what it was Life-defining, you know, the kind of moment that only comes around once in a lifetime. In the prior minutes, a sequence of seemingly simple events led me to be in that hospital lobby at just the right time. What would have happened had I not eaten my French toast and stormed out of the waiting room right then? And there Would I have been in the lobby at just the right moment. What would have happened if I'd stuck around and grieved with my family? Would I have been in the lobby at just the right moment? Or what if none of those actions made any bit of difference and all of it was well out of my control? And this was, uh, can I say it? Faded moment. Something destined to happen. Something destined to happen. Would anything have kept it from happening? But the truth is, none of those questions mattered, as all that mattered were the actions I took when I was face-to-face with the man in the surgical mask.
Speaker 1:These were the cards I was dealt. So how was I going to play them? I had to be clever and, yes, cleverly I handled it. Yet if I were faced with the same situation today, I would have undoubtedly handled it differently. My intent remained the same as when I went to his office minutes before I wanted to look him in the eye and strike the fear of God into him. Now, just know I wouldn't hurt a fly. But even to this day, I still have that same gaze, and that gaze would have demanded the same outcome. Yet today, I no longer wish to perpetuate fear.
Speaker 1:So there I was. And there he was, and we were surrounded by souls inhabiting bodies as they transverse the hospital lobby. I took a deep breath, smiled, looked him in the eye and grabbed his hand. I reminded him of who I was and informed him that my stepmother had passed away. He had already known at that point and he delivered condolences for my loss. Now, I'm not going to lie A part of me is still proud of what transpired next, but that's something I'm going to have to continue to look at, as I firmly believe I would have handled the situation differently if faced with it today.
Speaker 1:So, while shaking his hand and not breaking my gaze subjectively, I laid on one of the most verbally passive-aggressive responses known to the cosmos, and as my short monologue rolled on, I could feel his hand trembling. My eyes said I see right through you, but my words sang a different tune. From the bottom of my heart, I just want to thank you for everything you've done for Linda and my family. Thank you for going above and beyond to save my stepmother. You are a hero to my family and this hospital's lucky to have a doctor like you on staff.
Speaker 1:You may be asking yourself why did I do this? I don't believe this man was void of a soul. I believe he did have a conscience buried beneath the pomp and circumstance, and I wanted to make sure he remembered that for the rest of his life. So if a similar situation popped up, he would act with more humanity, opposed to doing all he could to keep his empire from crumbling. I then released his hand and watched him walk into the primary hospital waiting room, which opened at the lobby. Then I left the hospital holding my head a bit taller and feeling a little stronger. But that was then and this is now.
Speaker 1:Remember how I mentioned that he was wearing a surgical mask. Well, at the time I thought he was wearing it through the lobby to let everyone know they needed to make way and part the Red Sea for the master surgeon, as I viewed this man as a pompous prick. Now he very well may have been doing just well, as I had suspected, but here's what I didn't take into consideration. What if he was mid-surgery and coming down to let another Linda's family know the status of their loved one on the operating table? And if so, what if he was rattled by my passive-aggressive message and it then threw him off his game? What if I let my arrogance blind me to my actions having negative consequences beyond this one man? What if my emotional projection harms someone else inadvertently? To be clear, I don't carry guilt for the passive-aggressive message, as I don't know if any of these hypotheticals are a reality, but I do feel I must ask myself these questions so I can do better if a similar situation presents itself in the future. And then, as I left the hospital that morning, I found myself saying goodbye to a home of sorts, other than staying in hotels.
Speaker 1:As I write this entry today, in March of 2023, the few nights I spent in the hospital with Linda were my shortest residence stay in my entire 36 years. But quantity doesn't beat quality, and those walls taught me so much about life. After leaving the hospital, I went back to my place for a few hours until it was time to head over to my aunt's. That evening, the daytime hours felt like a haze, even though I'd spent weeks coming to terms with Linda's passing. The reality of the reality of the situation hadn't quite set in yet. I don't remember crying much during the day. I was just there, sort of Not really, but kind of. The sun would still set that evening and rise the next morning, but there'd be no going back to the hospital to see Linda.
Speaker 1:There were about 30 people over at my aunt's house that evening, composed of family and some of Linda's closest friends. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, so I went and sat in the backyard by myself. A little while later, my mom came out to see how I was doing. Then, once I saw her, I began to cry and she came over and gave me a hug. My mom was there to comfort me after the passing of her ex-husband's wife. How lucky am I. That night I stayed at my dad's house to keep him company. I remember crying myself to sleep, of course missing Linda, but also crying at the thought that Linda would not be at the house when I woke up the next morning. But something truly unexpected happened for me that evening. As I went to sleep, I didn't see the image of my grandfather passing away, as I had every night for the previous five years, and to this day that image has never made itself at home, as I've gone to sleep at night.
Speaker 1:The funeral was to be held two days after Linda's passing, so there was a one-day break in between. I got a haircut that day. I was at a hair salon as if everything had went back to business as usual. I believe I hid my grief pretty well that day, so I wondered who else in the salon was hiding their pain as well A question I will never know the answer to. I sat there thinking about Linda and all the joy she brought to my life and the lives of others. She was the life of the party and I believed that she wouldn't want her funeral to be a somber experience. That afternoon I again asked myself what would Linda do, and the conclusion I came to is she'd want to continue making people smile. So I thought of a wine I'd had a few times before from Trader Joe's called Project Happiness. I knew it wasn't much, but I figured it would be just like Linda to bring a little happiness to the day. So I went to a few Trader Joe's to clean them out of all their bottles of Project Happiness.
Speaker 1:Next day was Linda's funeral. There was an open casket viewing before the service, but I elected to skip it because of the visual and I'm sure you can all understand. Although I did bring something to be placed inside her casket the invitation to my dad's ice cream party from March. There was no need for me to carry that guilt around any longer, and to this day I've never felt that guilt rear its head again. Some of you may feel it was selfish for me to have the invitation placed in the casket, but you didn't know, linda, and it's not like it was the only object placed inside.
Speaker 1:When the service began, I was seated next to my father and that's where I remained for its entirety, aside from delivering my speech. And that's where I remained for its entirety, aside from delivering my speech. And that's where we find ourselves at this moment as I look back into the mirror of time. When I was called up, I pulled a paper grocery bag out from under my seat and began to make my way to the stage, and on my way my dad stopped me and asked did you bring props? I shrugged my shoulders as if to say I guess you know your son pretty well. On my walk to the podium, I was delighted with awe as I looked into the crowd and saw at least 400 people looking back at me, but they weren't there for me. I was just delighted to see how many lives Linda had touched in her time on earth.
Speaker 1:I approached the podium and made myself at home in front of the microphone. As you've probably heard me mention before, I'm very comfortable speaking in front of a crowd, in fact, the larger the better. There's something about having more eyes on me which drowns out the others. I'd spoken or performed in front of big crowds before. This time it was different. This time there was raw vulnerability involved, as whenever I'd previously performed, I was either playing a character in school plays or I'd play the character of me when I'd be performing in a musical setting. So this speech was the dawning of a new way of being Me. I stood there in silence, gazing at the crowd, wondering if I should improvise. Then I played the game what Would Linda Do? So I did what Linda would do. I spoke into the microphone and said Before I walked up here, my dad stopped me and asked if I brought props for my speech.
Speaker 1:I then took a moment to look around suspiciously and slowly inched my way back into the mic and finished my thought in a very deadpan manner. I brought props. The audience loved the line and I enjoyed their laughter. But again, this wasn't about me. This is what Linda would have wanted, as Linda was the woman who would bring a fart machine to dinner parties she'd attend with my father. So not only is this what Linda would have wanted, this is what Linda would have done.
Speaker 1:I then spoke about what a wonderful person Linda was. I then shared a story about the moment I decided Linda was cool. And that moment came the second time I met her it was in the fall of 2000, and there was a jar of applesauce that my dad and I were having trouble opening. So I suggested we wait for Linda to open it, as I believed she'd probably be able to accomplish what my dad and I were unable to. And what do you know? She opened the motherfucker, and I call it the motherfucker because that's Linda speak.
Speaker 1:I then spoke of how lucky I was to have the most objectively amazing stepmother in the world, but what I really decided to focus on in my speech was the relationship between Linda and my mom. Now, I may be the product of a divorce, but I'm eternally grateful to my parents for the choices they made regarding how I would fit into the equation of their predicament. One of the things they always agreed on was whoever they respectively dated well, that person needed to be okay with my other parents still being a part of their life, and if they weren't okay with it they were gone. And, as I'm sure you can gather, linda was more okay with it. In fact, she made it easy for me. You see, linda was very much a part of my mom's family, and her and my mom even used to joke about how they should go on the amazing race together and to be known as the wife and the ex-wife.
Speaker 1:I let everyone in the audience know how grateful I was to have Linda in my life for 14 years. I then asked members of the audience to raise their hands if Linda had ever helped them out of a jam or been there for them when they were in need, and hundreds of hands went up. I then closed my speech by holding up my prop and asking the audience to remember Linda this way, as I pointed to the large smiley face on the bottle of Project Happiness wine. Then, when everyone arrived at the reception after the service, they were greeted by dozens of smiling bottles of Project Happiness wine. A few months later, I went over to my dad's house and there was a bottle of Project Happiness on the kitchen counter. I asked where it came from, as my dad doesn't drink, and he told me it was given to him as a gift. In that moment my heart melted a little bit as I realized it worked. Whenever anyone at the funeral saw a happy face, they thought of Linda. And then, a few months later, there was a new addition to my dad's refrigerator a magnet of the same yellow smiley face.
Speaker 1:As I mentioned before, the speech I gave at the funeral was a new way of being, as I wasn't used to expressing raw vulnerability publicly, but that speech showed me that it was safe to fully be me. And without that speech I don't know if today I'd have the confidence to express myself in the way that I have as me, but there was so much growth that took place as a result of Lynn's passing as me, but there was so much growth that took place as a result of Linda's passing. And then, about a week or so later, my dad sent me back to my place with one of his duffel bags, so I no longer need to carry my possessions around in a paper grocery bag. Thanks, dad, I still have the same duffel bag to this day. Anyways, where were we?
Speaker 1:Oh yeah, a little less than three months after Linda's passing, I found myself in a place where I wanted to believe that she was in a better place. I was always open to the idea of an afterlife, but I never truly indulged in the notion as it couldn't be proven. That year I also began to see things seemingly lining up perfectly, such as my interaction with the doctor in the lobby. These quote-unquote things kept popping up, so I felt it was best to begin paying a little more attention, and I now understand the terminology for this ordinary phenomenon to be synchronicity. And remember how I mentioned earlier that I'd rolled my eyes when I heard of the book Heaven is for Real. Well, at that point I saw that interaction as a synchronistic event and I felt the draw to give the book a read. So I went to buy it and its description as it follows Do you remember the hospital, colton? Sonia said yes, mommy, I remember. He said that's where the angel sang to me.
Speaker 1:Colton told his parents he left his body during an emergency surgery and proved the claim by describing exactly what his parents were doing in another part of the hospital during his operation. He talked of visiting heaven and described events that happened before he was born and how he spoke with family members he'd never met. Colton also astonished his parents, with descriptions and obscure details about heaven that matched the Bible exactly, even though he had not yet learned to read. With disarming innocence and the plain-spoken boldness of a child, colton recounts his visit to heaven, describing meeting long-departed family members, jesus, the angels, how really, really big God is and how much God loves us, how Jesus called Todd Colton's father to be a pastor and the Battle of Armageddon called Todd Colton's father to be a pastor. In the Battle of Armageddon, retold by his father, but using Colton's uniquely simple words, heaven is for Real offers a glimpse of the world that awaits us, whereas Colton says nobody is old and nobody wears glasses, heaven is for Real will forever change the way you think of eternity, offering the chance to see and believe like a child. Now, while it seemed intriguing, I didn't doubt the validity of the story, I just didn't feel ready to read it due to some of the terminology used in the description and the lack of faith's greatest enemy. Proof. No skin off my back, though, because I do believe the universe works in mysterious ways, as a little further down on the page there was a suggested reading title that caught my eye Proof of Heaven A Neurosurgeon's Journey into the Afterlife, and the description reads as follows Thousands of people have had near-death experiences, but scientists have argued that they are impossible, and Dr Eben Alexander was one of those scientists.
Speaker 1:A highly trained neurosurgeon, alexander knew that NDEs feel real but are simply fantasies produced by brains under extreme stress. Then Dr Alexander's own brain was attacked by a rare illness the part of the brain that controls thought and emotion and, in essence, makes us human. It shut down completely. For seven days. He laid in a coma. Then, as his doctors considered stopping treatment, alexander's eyes popped open. He had come back.
Speaker 1:Alexander's recovery is a medical miracle, but the real miracle of this story lies elsewhere. Recovery is a medical miracle, but the real miracle of this story lies elsewhere. While his body lay in a coma, alexander journeyed beyond this world and encountered an angelic being who guided him into the deepest realms of superphysical existence. There he met and spoke with the divine source of the universe itself. Alexander's story is not a fantasy. Before he underwent his journey, he could not reconcile his knowledge of neuroscience with any belief in heaven, god or the soul. Today, alexander is a doctor who believes that true health can be achieved only when we realize that God and the soul are real and that death is not the end of personal existence but only a transition.
Speaker 1:This story would be remarkable, no matter who it happened to. That it happened to Dr Alexander makes it revolutionary. No scientist or person of faith will be able to ignore it. Reading it will change your life. While the description for heaven is real, had more religious undertones. Proof of Heaven was written by someone who, in my eyes, didn't have much to gain from sharing his experience, but indeed risked losing everything he'd ever worked for. So I bought the book, read it, mulled it over for a bit, then walked away with a simple thought you know what Could be? And with those two words, could be.
Speaker 1:My belief system began to unravel and a few months later, I found myself trying something I never would have been open to prior to Linda's passing. Trying something I never would have been open to prior to Linda's passing this little thing called past life regression. As you've heard me previously discuss, my first past life regression experience changed my life. But what you haven't heard me discuss is my second experience. Honestly, there's not much of worth to share regarding the content of the session. Honestly, there's not much of worth to share regarding the content of the session, but what happened after. That's a different story. Even with my first past life regression, I wasn't really keen to share the details because I was super skittish about trying it out. I mean, where was the proof? And I thought I'd sound like a nutjob if I shared the details with anyone I knew. And the same notion continued for my second session.
Speaker 1:Anyways, I was driving back to my place from the session and I blew a tire out on the freeway. Don't worry, everything was fine. That's not the truly noteworthy part. You see, money was really tight for me at the time and I'd just spent my disposable income on the session. So I had to call my dad to ask him to help me out with a new tire. He asked me where I was coming from and I didn't want to lie, so I simply said I'll come over and tell you once I get the tire replaced. In retrospect I see there was no need to be cryptic, but I was also at an automotive place and I was afraid someone would hear me say the words past life regression.
Speaker 1:Afterwards I went over to my dad's place and he was lying in bed watching TV. So I paced around the room while I shared with him that I'd done two sessions of this thing called past life regression, but I didn't really share the details because, well you know, wouldn't want my dad to think I was crazy. But as I continued to pace around, I spotted a book in the wall unit that caught my eye. It was a book I'd recently heard of but not yet read. I pulled it off the shelf and I asked my dad whose book it was. He said that it must have been Linda's. And it was in that moment when I found myself missing Linda more than I had in months, as I realized she was the person it would be safe to share my past life regression experience with. She wouldn't think I was crazy. I pressed my dad for more details as to when she read the book. He wasn't sure, but he surmised that it must have been shortly before going into the hospital. But he surmised that it must have been shortly before going into the hospital as she was diving more into alternatives, looking for answers as to why she was falling more ill by the day. Oh yeah, now would probably be the best time for me to share the title of the book, as most of you listening to the podcast have probably heard of it. Anyways, it was a little book written by a doctor named Brian Weiss, and that book was called Many Lives, many Masters.
Speaker 1:The years rolled on and my journeys through time continued, not only as a participant but also as a practitioner. I'm very fortunate to have a family that is supportive of my slightly outside-the-box career, but I don't think they really get it, at least not the way Linda would have. But that's okay, because I can't say for sure that I never would have made my way to past life regression without my experience in the hospital. But what I can firmly state as a fact is it wouldn't have come as soon as it did had it not been for that experience. And while Linda hasn't physically been here to go on the journey with me, I do believe she's kicking back with a bowl of popcorn every time I do a session, probably snickering to all her translucent buddies about how she played a role in the show right in between sounding the fart machines she placed under their heavenly chairs.
Speaker 1:Fast forward a few years. My dad met a wonderful woman named Susan and after they'd been dating for a few months it was time for me to meet her. The three of us went out for dinner and instantly I liked Susan. She seemed real to me and since my parents split up very early in my life, I'd been through this routine many times before you know the one where you meet the new boyfriend or girlfriend and they either act like they're interested in getting to know you or they're just simply and genuinely interested in getting to know you. Susan falls into the latter camp, as I could tell her interest was genuine. As she asked me questions about past life regression, I was sold. As she asked me questions about past life regression, I was sold.
Speaker 1:And a few years later, in late August of 2021, my dad and Susan got married. I mean, they're great together. The ceremony was held in the living room at my dad's house in front of a few close family members, and then later that evening, the reception was held in the same backyard where Linda threw the ice cream celebration for my dad a little over seven years earlier. I'm not going to lie I thought a lot about Linda that day at the wedding. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love and adore Susan, but I really missed Linda. I know I have a hard time letting go, but that day it wasn't really an issue, as I knew I never had to let go of Linda.
Speaker 1:But that evening at the reception, I felt as if I was in one place, straddling the line between two different times.
Speaker 1:One moment, I'm standing on the patio in the backyard on that Sunday spring afternoon in March back in 2014, delivering my speech the one where I was burdened with guilt after what I said about Linda, linda and I being sick as dogs. And then, the next moment, I'm standing on the patio in the backyard on that Saturday summer evening in 2021, delivering another speech at a different celebration. Sometimes well, most of the time, I have difficulty reckoning the emotions that seem to reside in different times. I guess it's the burden of my gift of being more in tune with time. I then smiled as I delivered my speech and my happiness was genuine, as I felt as though I was straddling those two worlds. But it took something Linda's daughter, my stepsister, said during her speech to root me back into the present time. In front of everyone, she looked at Susan and said my mom would have loved you. And there I was, in late August of 2021, standing on the patio in the backyard at my dad and Susan's house. To be continued.