I Still See Pap!

Death is a difficult subject for adults to understand. Children have an even harder time trying to grasp the concept. That someone they love is not coming back.

When a family experiences the death of a loved one, adults may try to explain to the kids that their deceased loved one is in heaven or a better place. Most people believe in an afterlife in which the soul or spirit that was inhabiting a human body continues to live in some realm of consciousness. Yet many adults tell children that their loved one doesn’t exist anymore. It’s hard for kids to understand and accept this as reality—especially when they continue to see the one who is supposed to be “deceased.”

My grandfather, whom we called Pap, died in 1988. That was more than a year before my brother and his wife had children. Imagine the surprise when their first-born son was about two or three years old and reported that Pap was in his room at night!

Being fundamentalist Christians, we did not take well to having spirits messing with our kids. We concluded that this entity could not be Pap for three reasons: 1.) according to the teachings of our religion, Pap was in heaven and could not possibly manifest on Earth; 2.) my nephew was afraid of the entity, so it must not have been a friendly spirit—although my grandfather was quite a jokester; 3.) our family did not believe in ghosts; therefore, they could not visit us! But we did believe in demons so we rationalized that we were under attack. We exorcised the child’s room and forbade the evil presence from coming near my nephew again. Ghosts comply with our requests when we intentionally set strong boundaries. Sadly, Pap did not return.

As I look back on that event from a different and non-religious perspective, I should have realized that the visitor was indeed Pap. Since my nephew had never met his great-grandfather, he would not have called the visitor Pap unless the ghost had identified himself as such. Those of us who knew Pap could have embraced the visitation with love and gratitude rather than fear and retaliation. The way we handled this episode caused my nephew to be fearful of the spirit world.

My grandmother and I had been visited by Pap’s spirit several times since he had passed. But I somehow dismissed all remembrance of those events when my nephew reported seeing Pap. Our experience conflicted with our dogma. Now, I jokingly say that if your experience doesn’t align with your theology, by all means change your experience! We couldn’t possibly alter our beliefs!

Pap loved my brother and me very much and I’m sure he would loved to have known our children. It was only natural that he would visit us and them from time to time just to check in.

If your child reports seeing a ghost, validate his experience so he will continue to trust his intuition. There is nothing to fear. In fact, this event can provide the perfect opportunity to bring better understanding about the unseen realm and death. You might ask the child if he knows the ghost’s name. If he identifies a loved one who has passed, find out if the ghost has a message for the family or if there is something the family can do for the ghost. Many times our disembodied loved ones simply stop by briefly to let us know all is well in the afterlife or to see how everyone is doing. If this is the case the spirit visitor will probably leave on its own.

However, if the family agrees that the ghost needs to leave immediately and not come back, you can lovingly set boundaries with the spirit. Simply call upon the angels of light and love to lead the spirit to a peaceful place in the afterlife where the soul development can continue.

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Yvonne Perry is a freelance writer and editor, award-winning Amazon.com bestselling author, podcast host, blogger, and keynote speaker. She is a graduate of American Institute of Holistic Theology where she earned a Bachelor of Science in Metaphysics. http://writersinthesky.com/

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For more information, you might enjoy reading More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife.
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Is Sleep Walking Related to Astral Travel or Projection?

Have you ever wondered why some kids (and adults) are prone to taking a stroll about the house during the night? Regardless of age, we are all more open to spiritual exploration during our sleep. Children—especially intuitive children—are easily able to tap into the spirit realm night or day. It’s no surprise then, that an intuitive child when deeply asleep is totally in another zone—an “out of body” experience in which some aspect of the human psyche actually travels to other dimensions.

Astral projection and astral travel are common among spiritually-gifted kids. It is important to understand the difference between astral travel and astral projection.

Astral travel is a process of projecting the consciousness into visual scenes. In meditation we might call this journeying or visualization. Some intuitives (empaths) may actually feel as if they are in the place imagined. However, astral traveling does not remove us from the physical body.

Astral projection is when our astral body actually travels to other places. This mainly occurs while asleep in dream states. The rapid eye movement phase is normally aligned with this phenomena. The person is only aware of the experience if he or she has memories afterward. Although we all have out-of-body experiences from time to time, there are those who can intentionally project their astral body and have a genuine experience while awake.

Sleep walking is caused when the astral body is unable to release itself from the physical body. The desire to project will animate the physical body without conscious awareness. A sleep walking person should not be awakened while in this state. Instead, help direct and get them back in bed and allow them to awaken on their own.

Yvonne Perry's grandson, Sidney, was prone to sleep walking episodes when he was younger. One night his mother, Amanda, awoke and saw Sid standing at the foot of her bed. She was about to ask him to go back to bed when she realized it was his astral body and not his physical body standing there. Naturally, she was startled and jumped out of bed to check on him. She found him sound asleep in his own bed in his room. This demonstrates astral projection.

Our bodies are able to perform automatic functions like walking, drinking, urinating, or driving while having an out-of-body experience. You’ve probably found yourself so deep in thought while driving that you got from point A to point B without not being aware of how you got there. Perhaps you were deep in a daydream while walking and didn’t realize you had crossed the street until you “came to." I’ve left my house many times so preoccupied with thoughts that I couldn’t remember whether or not I turned off the stove or let down the garage door. However, my body automatically performed these functions while my mind strayed. It’s the same way when you are asleep or having an astral projection or sleep walking.

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For more information, you might enjoy reading More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife.
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Mommy, Who Is That Lady Standing Over There?

Most psychics and mediums I interviewed for my book, Kids Who See Ghosts, agreed that ghosts are the spirits of persons who have passed out of a body, but have not yet moved on to higher planes of consciousness. Those who see apparitions say ghosts present themselves in human form. Nature spirits (also called fairies, gnomes, elves, and leprechauns) are energy beings that children see and interact with, especially in their preschool years. Those who see them describe them as tiny creatures with seemingly translucent wings or a blinking little light with wings.

When a child sees an apparition she may ask something like, "Mommy, who is that lady standing over there?" or “What is that man doing in our house?"

Of course when adults try to see who the child is talking about they see no one, yet the child insists someone is there. They may also report seeing ghosts in their dreams, hearing things go bump in the night, having monsters under their bed, ghosts in the closet, or someone peeking in their window. This can be scary for adults as well as children. As a counselor, I know the worries parents have over helping their children feel safe in their own environment.

Don’t ignore your child's fears. It is important to her emotional development for you as a parent to eliminate such things as ghosts, monsters, and weird noises. Criticizing her about monsters or saying "there is no such things as ghosts” does not help her overcome fear. She will simply stop telling you about her experience, which may cause her even more stress.

One thing that will help reduce your child's fear is to show how calm you are about such things. Children take their cues from adults—especially their parents—and if we are upset about ghosts and strange noises, then our children will learn to fear those things too. Try to offer a logical explanation that the child can understand.

Regardless of whether or not you believe in ghosts, you can take charge of the situation. Smudge your house with sage to banish entities, do battle with the monster under the bed, or have a good, firm talk with the invisible man who keeps tapping at your child’s bedroom window. It might also help to turn on a night light in the child’s room, let her take a flashlight to bed, or play some soft music at night so she can’t hear ghostly activity.

Since science cannot prove nor disprove the existence of spirit beings, parents can’t honestly tell a child that ghosts or other spirit beings don't exist. Perhaps we should listen to our children and simply accept what they say they see.

© 2010 by Dr. Caron Goode, the award winning author of Raising Intuitive Children and the international best-seller, Kids Who See Ghosts, guide them through their fear. Dr. Goode is the founder of the Academy for Coaching Parents (acpi.biz) that trains and certifies professional parenting coaches. Reach Dr. Goode for speaking or training at caron30 @ gmail.com.

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For more information, you might enjoy reading More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife.
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Grieving a Miscarriage

Mary Martin is our guest blogger today as she shares a touching story about how a little girl dealt with the death of her unborn baby sister when her family did not address the issue.


The Ice House

by Mary Martin

That's an old photograph of me taken the summer I turned nine. Squinting at the camera, I look as if I'm ready to run. Behind me, you can see a boy, several years older with dark curly hair and a pinched expression. That's my brother, Paul. You can tell from the tilt of the camera, that my older brother Pete took the picture.

We stayed in a small cottage high up on the rocks. To get to the water, we had to climb down a long rickety, staircase that arched its way among the bleached white rocks to the narrow beach below. One afternoon, coming out of the water, I felt something soft and thick on the back of my leg. I tried to brush it off.

Paul started laughing. "It's a worm, Francie!"

Pete tried to knock it off with a stick, but it wouldn't come.

I ran up the staircase as fast I could. In the cottage, I tried to stop my short, panicky sobs. Horror slowly spread across Mom's face as she tried to peel the black blob from my leg. Aunt Margaret got the salt and Dad poured it on the worm. Slowly, the creature curled smaller and dropped off. For days, I couldn't help fingering the long dent under the bandage made by the blood sucker. It seemed like a big chunk of me was missing. I wasn't allowed to go swimming for a while, but I didn't really want to.

The best part about the cottage was the ice house. Beyond the road running behind the cottage was a low building set in among the pine trees, which seemed to rise up forever. A man from the lodge would come every few days in his truck to unload the large blocks of ice for the cottagers. Made of old pine boards hammered together, the ice house kept listing dangerously to one side. The damp smell of sawdust drew you in. Waves of cold from the big blocks of ice strewn across the floor froze you solid. With the door pulled shut, the darkness inside was broken by bright knotholes of sunshine streaming in. Paul and I spent many afternoons defending the ice house with our stick rifles thrust through the holes. Holding our breath, we waited for the enemy attacks.

I was always liked playing with Paul, but it didn't happen often. He thought I was too little. But he had the best games, even though some of them were really strange. Because Mom was expecting the new baby late that summer, she was pretty tired and we weren't supposed to bother her. So, I hung around Paul a lot.

One afternoon, I asked P`ul, "What do you think it'll be like with the new baby?"

Paul threw down his stick rifle and stared at me. "Who cares?" His face scrunched up. "Smarten up, Francie! You think it'll be like playing with your dumb dolls." With his face all pinched and angry, he started across the floor at me. "Well, it won't. Everything will be different."

He pushed me hard and I fell back against the huge iron tongs hanging on a nail by the door. He backed away. I could tell from his smile, he was thinking something up.

"You know, they torture people in here with those tongs," he said slowly. His glance forbade challenge.

"They take ice to the cottages with them." I insisted. Then, trying to sound grown up, I said, "Everyone knows that."

"Boy, are you dumb!" Paul shook his head slowly and peered out the knothole."Everyone knows that!" he mimicked.

Then he whispered so low I could hardly hear him. "They do it out here only at night, when babies like you are asleep."
Paul pretended to concentrate on the enemy. Even though I couldn't see his face, I decided to call his bluff, which wasn't easy for me. "How do you know? Mom and Dad don't let you out here at night."

Slowly, my brother turned away from the wall. The stream of sunlight illuminated his piteous expression. He sighed deeply. "Don't you know anything? You can sneak out once dad starts snoring."

Slowly, he reached up and lifted the tongs from the nail. They were so heavy, he almost stumbled. "Listen, if you stop acting like a stupid little kid, you can come tonight at midnight." Just like Paul to throw down the challenge.

"They heat the tongs up over a fire, before they use them." he added.

"Fire?" I thought I had him now. "There aren't any fires around here at night," I said.

With a grin, Paul turned on me in the doorway. "See what I mean? That's exactly what a baby would say." Then he was off, running ahead of me toward the cottage.

That night I lay in bed waiting for midnight and thinking about what Paul had said about the baby. I was still trying to figure out how babies were made. Mom wasn't much help. Something about bees and flowers. When Aunt Margaret tried to tell me, I got even more confused.

I liked Aunt Margaret a lot. If I had any idea of myself as a grown up woman, Aunt Margaret was everything I wanted to be. She had long, dark hair which was so shiny, I always wanted to touch it. When she laughed, it was a deep, husky laugh which hinted at something I didn't understand, but wanted to imitate. Sometimes I listened to her and Mom talking. Aunt Margaret was a nurse and I heard her talking about girls getting rid of their babies, at the hospital. I didn't believe it. Babies got sick and mothers got them better.

Finally, it was midnight. With the flashlight, I picked out the path through the bushes. When I crept into the ice house, it was really cold and still.

Paul's voice was harsh and tense. "Turn that thing off!" he hissed. I did. We were in darkness until my eyes adjusted. I could barely see him behind a huge box-like shape.

"Now," he whispered, "I'm going to show you how they heat up the tongs. They'll be here pretty soon."

"Who's coming?" I asked, not moving from the doorway.

"Them. All the members of the Secret Society!"

I heard a metallic click and then smelled the sick smell of lighter fluid. Paul had taken Dad's lighter. When the candle flickered, I could see. Paul’s grinning face, like a skull. What had looked like a box, really was one, except it was cut out in a funny shape and looked like an altar. The tongs were laid across the top of the box. Carefully, he set the candle underneath the one end of the tongs.

Sitting back, with great satisfaction, he said, "Now we wait."

"Wait for what?" I asked.

Paul looked at me in disgust. "I shouldn't have let you come. You're just too little for this! I said they'd be here and I have to be ready with the tongs."

Paul scuffed his foot and knocked the box over. The candle tipped sideways. The box began to dance in flames. I thought it was part of the plan, but his gasp told me it wasn't. For an instant, we watched the growing flames in fascination.

Paul knocked the tongs to the ground. Spreading his arms, he grasped both ends of the burning cardboard. He ran fast with the flaming box held high. The fire seemed to die out as he neared the cottage, but then it burst out again. His screams pierced the silent woods.

He's crazy, I thought. He'll wake everyone. Then I saw his shirt was on fire.

Dad was chasing him down the lawn. Paul flung himself toward the water's edge. Dad caught him and threw him to the ground. The shrieks became a low keening sound.

Aunt Margaret backed the car onto the lawn. Mom stumbled trying to get Paul up. Climbing in the car beside him, she slammed the door shut. Her face was pale and white in the window. Paul's shrieks rose above the engine's roar as the car bounced down the lane for town.

Unable to move, I stood alone on the lawn. Aunt Margaret and Pete brought me into the cottage. I kept saying, "The candle fell over. The box caught on fire. Paul was trying to get it to the water."

"But why?" asked Aunt Margaret. "What was he trying to do?"

I searched her face for an answer. "I don't know!" I said at last. "Something to do with a secret society and torturing people. One of his stupid games."

I couldn't lie down on my own bed. Finally, curling up on the verandah cot. I fell asleep staring at the moon. When I awoke the next morning, I was lying in the exact same position.

The sky was tinted pink with red streaks in it. Slowly, I turned on my back. I heard my Aunt talking on the phone. Finally, she hung up and came out to the verandah and sat on the end of the cot.

"Dad called from the hospital, Francie." I nodded and waited. "Paul will be all right. The burns aren't too bad."

I rubbed my eyes and watched her. I knew there was more.

"Francie?" She edged toward me awkwardly. "Your mom lost the baby last night."

I lay very still. When I finally spoke, I didn't recognize my own voice. "You mean the baby died?"

"Yes." said Margaret quietly.

I wrenched myself away from her hand and buried my face in the pillow. It was Paul's fault. His stupid games! The lump in my throat was so hard, I thought my head would burst. I didn't ask Margaret what was wrong with the baby, or why it died. I just asked, "It was a girl, wasn't it?" Aunt Margaret looked at me strangely and nodded.

After awhile, I got off the cot and went to my room. Standing on a chair, I could just reach the top shelf of the closet. I found the only dress I'd brought to the cottage. Mom usually helped me with the zipper, so it took a long time to dress without her. I went out to the kitchen. Pete and Aunt Margaret were sitting at the table. They weren't talking.

Standing in the doorway, I asked, "Will this be okay for the funeral?"

"Funeral?" asked Margaret carefully.

"Yes, for the baby."

Margaret was leading me to the couch and trying not to cry. "Francie, they don't have funerals when this happens."

"Why not?"

Margaret looked at me helplessly. "They just don't. I don't know why." Tears were running down her cheeks as she tried to hold me close.

I pushed her away hard, then ran from the cottage, as fast as I could, across the road to the ice house. I sat inside for a long time with my back against the biggest block of ice I could find. The cold made me ache all over. It was all because of the fire, I thought. I hated Paul and his stupid games. Then I got an idea.

Aunt Margaret and Pete were out looking for me, so it was easy to sneak back into the cottage. At the back of Mom's closet, I found a shoe box. In my room, Annabel, my doll was propped up against the pillow. There were lots of doll clothes in my suitcase and I went through them carefully, until I found just the right one. I took a long time dressing Annabel in her white dress. I sang to her while I combed her hair and washed her face. Then I placed her in the shoe box. She didn't look right just lying there, so I tucked the best hand towel I could find around her.

Back at the ice house, I got a shovel. I had to find the right spot. It was quiet and shady at the back. The hole was really hard to dig. The shoe box had to be buried deep enough. At last, I could make it fit.

Opening the lid for the last time, I kissed Annabel and stared at her for ages. I felt better, but the hard lump in my throat came back when I covered the box with earth.

Right away, I knew I needed a gravestone. In the bushes, I found enough stones to build one. I sat back against the wall and tried to think of the right words. I had never been to a funeral, so I had a lot of trouble.

Much later, Pete came around the back of the ice house. He looked relieved to see me, but I could tell he thought I looked really strange sitting there in my best dress, beside a bunch of stones.

I thought he would be mad, but he just said, "What are you doing, Francie? We've been hunting all over for you." He didn't look right at me.

"Can't you see? I've been having the funeral." Then I really started crying and couldn't stop. Pete sat down beside me and put his arm around my shoulder. Sitting together like that, I was glad he just waited and didn't try to make me stop and talk. When I was only sniffling, he helped me up and held my hand all the way back from the ice house.

Mary E. Martin, a lawyer, she wrote the legal suspense novels of The Osgoode Trilogy, Conduct in Question, Final Paradox and A Trial of One. She has just published the first novel in the next trilogy, set in not in the world of law, but art—The Drawing Lesson, the first in the Trilogy of Remembrance. Presently, she is immersed in the second draft of the next novel in this trilogy, provisionally called, The Fate of Pryde. Married, she and her husband live in Toronto and have three adult children. http://www.theosgoodetrilogy.com/

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For more information, you might enjoy reading More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife.
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The Elderly and Children Interact

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I spent time at my parent's house. My 94-year-old grandmother, whom we call Nanny, lives with them. My adult children and my three grandchildren were also at my parent's during the holiday last week.

Ever since Nanny fell and broke her hip two years ago, she has not been able to walk without a walker or wheel chair. For about a year and a half, she couldn't walk at all and had to be hoisted in and out of bed with a hydraulic lift.

My oldest grandson Sidney is nearly ten years old; he remembers when Nanny was mobile enough to help clean house and cook dinner. He is also accustomed to seeing her incapacitated and using a variety of medical equipment. He loved to swing in the hoist and ride up and down on the wheelchair lift on my mom's van when Nanny had need of those items. You can see him borrowing Nanny's walker to steady himself on roller blades!

My two younger grandsons, Liam and Jonas, (born two weeks apart in 2009) are now 17 months old. They have an entirely different relationship with Nanny.


Jonas has visited Nanny more often than Liam has. Jonas is quite comfortable with Nanny and will sit in the bed next to her and jabber away. He brings toys to her when she's sitting in her lift chair in the living room. He likes to push the buttons and make her go up and down.

Liam will have nothing to do with Nanny other than stare at her from across the room. He cries if she reaches out to touch him, and he screamed and climbed my body trying to keep me from putting him in bed next to her. I didn't force the issue. I simply held him and stepped back from her bed and he stopped crying. He also associates the wheelchair with Nanny and is intimidated by it.  He really didn't want to be in the wheelchair for this photo shoot, but since his cousins were playing in it and my mom was taking them for a ride, he bore with our shenanigans.

In summary, I think this comfort level (or lack thereof) has a lot to do with what a child gets used to, but it's also a difference in personality. Jonas is more outgoing than Liam in most ways, but I'm sure Liam would come to accept Nanny and her gear if he were around her more.

I think it is a good idea to let children try out the medical equipment used by an elderly or disabled family member as long as they don't get hurt or break the equipment. It's a good experience for children to interact with the elderly, but it should not be forced upon them. How do you feel about this?

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You might enjoy reading More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife.
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How Early Do Humans Show Empathy?

Empathy allows us to understand and share the feelings of another person. Empathy makes us good citizens and reminds us that the world does not revolve around us. It pushes us to acknowledge the people around us as we participate in their emotional lives. Empathy is what makes other people matter to us.

My adult children brought their kids, (my grandsons) to visit this past weekend. The babies, being born only two weeks apart in 2009 are now 14 and almost 15 months old. Even though their personalities are totally different, Jonas and Liam play pretty well together. But already they are showing signs of jealousy. If I hold one, I have to hold the other one too. Same with toys and Goldfish crackers! One for each—no favorites. So, I was really surprised when I found them showing empathy at such an early age in their moral and social development.

The boys have only been walking a couple of months and they are still a little unsteady on their feet. They were hugging each other when Jonas fell backward and bumped his head on the wall. Liam squatted down next to him as if to see if his cousin was okay. I was amazed! He really seemed to care that Jonas fell down. Who knows? Maybe he was just checking to make sure he didn’t have an extra Goldfish clinched in his fist. I did some research about this and found that according to Dr. Kyle Pruett, children’s brains develop empathy from birth to age eight. As early as nine months children learn that other people have emotions. I saw this in Jonas on Sunday. He was flinging his arms while his mom was feeding him. He accidentally hit his mom in the face. When she jumped back and said, “Ouch!”, Jonas hung his head down as if he was sorry for his action.

Empathic children become empathic adults. Jonas’ brother, Sidney, is almost ten years old. I’m forever impressed with the love, respect, and concern he shows his baby brother as they play together. This makes me wonder if empathy is a learned behavior or if it is a human instinct to care for one another. Your thoughts on this are appreciated. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think.
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Yvonne Perry is a metaphysical teacher helping people transform their lives through a liberating view of our oneness with the Divine. Serving as a prophetic voice of healing, she hosts a weekly talk show in which she interviews guests who see their true selves as loving, accepting, and unified spirit beings awakening to their spiritual potential. Yvonne offers encouragement through her lectures, workshops, and discussion group forums. http://WeAre1inSpirit.com

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For more information, you might enjoy reading More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife.
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Why Children Lose Psychic Ability as They Age

I’ve often wondered why so many children stop seeing spirits and interacting with invisible playmates as they start school. My grandson, Sidney, is the main character in my book, The Sid Series ~ A Collection of Holistic Stories for Children. These stories mention some of the psychic gifts he manifested at an early age. See http://thesidseries.com/.


Michelle Payton gives a logical and scientific explanation as to why children lose psychic ability as they age! Go to http://ow.ly/MnBy and scroll to "Tips on Mainstream Metaphysical Parenting of Psychic Children" to read the PDF or listen to the audio interview.

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For more information, you might enjoy reading the complete book More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife. Purchase on Amazon.com