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A lovely new friend of mine called Deborah recently commented that she was extremely afraid that as time goes on she will forget or not be able to remember the sound of the voice of her son in spirit. She said she cries just thinking about it. I completely understand this and have felt the same way. But I have learnt that this kind of thinking is just a worry that is caused by a feeling of disconnection. It is a fear and only a fear. Nothing is ever lost. All our memories are imprinted in our souls, eternally. I remember standing in my kitchen not long after Lily had died and I too had been worrying about losing memories of her. Then out of the blue, I felt her with me. I stood there holding on to both the tea towel and to the feeling that surrounded me. It was my daughter. And in that moment I realised that if you stay present and open, easier said than done – but possible, then you don’t need to “remember” them. They will just “be” there with you. All at once who they are, their essence, their beingness will surround you and everything will come flooding back. I do not believe that we need to hold on tight to the memories of our loved ones; I believe we need to take the time to breathe, to relax, to sit and wait for them to come along and sit beside us. I believe we can wait in that stillness until we feel a familiar presence with us. We can “zone out” with them, tuning into them like we would a radio station that we wanted to listen to, delicately turning our attention to the frequency of them or if that is too hard, tuning into the frequency of our love for them. Sitting and contemplating how much we love them actually connects us with them. Sitting there basking in that love we receive inspired messages from them. Sitting there basking in that love we receive inspired memories of our togetherness that they particularly want to enjoy with us. And they will sit with us until we remember. Lots of love. xx
Two years ago I had an amazing experience which I have been delaying writing about as it is so "out there" that if it hadn't happened to me, I would struggle to believe it too! I was putting Summer to bed. I lay down next to her on my stomach and draped my arm around her, exhausted from life. She took a little while to nod off and while I was waiting I found myself getting more and more sleepy, more and more relaxed. I had had some kind of struggle of late, seems to be a pattern for me doesn't it!, and was taking a lovely little rest here with my precious girl. Then, alone in the room apart from my sleeping daughter, I felt something that I will never forget. I felt a large hand start stroking my hair, from the top of my head to mid way down my back to the length of my long hair. I knew this hand was far too big to be my little Lily's. It almost felt like a man's hand. I wasn't scared. I just lay there as still as could be. Did I just imagine that? I waited, then I felt it again - another stroke of my hair. I knew I didn't need to be scared because this being obviously wanted to soothe me. It kept happening over and over. I lay still, stunned and awed at what I was experiencing! It must be my grandmother I thought. A little while later I had a reading from the a spiritual teacher who I find very trustworthy. She told me that it had actually been my guardian angel that night soothing my soul and that we all have an angel who is designated to us from birth till death who is always with us, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Our angels are continuously trying to reassure us and to pass on messages of comfort and guidance to us. The tricky part is breaking free of the conditioning that says we have to see something for it to be real. The tricky part is having faith. But once you do, you will open a door to beautiful insights and the reality that even if we are feeling lonely and all by ourselves, there is someone beautiful by our sides and we are never left alone. “SOOTHE YOUR SOUL FROM GRIEF” by Erica Farrimond is available today for the special price of 0.99c. Here is the link! Enjoy! xoxhttp://www.amazon.com/Soothe-your-soul-grief-inspiration-ebook/dp/B00GG630KE Remember that you do not need an ereader to read the ebook. You can just download it from amazon and read it directly from your computer or ipad. Lots of love and brightest blessings to you, Erica
Where do I even begin..... Well, the beginning. I am Amie, when I was born I had a friend that was already selected by nature to be my best friend, teach me unforgettable lessons, and help every step of my way. His name is Jeremy, and he is my big brother. We have always been very close. I am now 23, and confused with life. He was 25 when he died, just weeks before his birthday. Well, the history of his life, my life, and our family is quite deep and painful. Jeremy joined the army when he was 18, and served two years, even went to Iraq, before returning home with his honorable discharge. Upon his arrival home, he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. I hate the stigma, and assumptions that go through others' mind when they hear of this disease. He had such a hard time. He spent the following six+ years taking anti-psychosis medications and relapsing his pills, going through an inner hell on a daily basis. He had been in and out of psychiatric wards a few handfull of times. He eventually started drinking heavily, and majority of the time did not take his medication. For the past two+ years he would drink roughly 18 beers a day. He would walk around the city, sometimes pass out in bushes, and wake up in the hospital hours later or even the next day absolutely confused why he is there. People have called the police on him because he would be wandering while drunk. One time he was walking barefoot, went into a 7-11, and told the clerk to call the police on him because he was losing his mind. This was after a several day drug binge. You see, though, Jeremy is (was) the most innocent, intelligent, wise, witty, goofy guy I have ever known. Schizophrenia or not, the disease did not take him away. It just became a part of him. It tormented him, and he was desperate to not feel the way he did, therefore began binging with drugs. For years he would find cocaine from someone, and binge for about a week straight, and then not touch it again for 6+ months. One of his most recent cocaine binges resulted in him desperately wanting to live in a sober living home to help himself get cleaned up. Unfortunately, while there, he met a man named Erik. Or should I say boy. Erik was there for heroin. Eventually they began getting motel rooms in DTLA, and Jeremy was smoking heroin while Erik shot it up. This was about a year and a half before Jeremy would chase the dragon for the final time. Well, my details are feeling scatterbrained as I think I am still in total shock. All I know is Jeremy got really sick. It was a Thursday and his illness just began. My dad called me to tell me about his symptoms. That Saturday I drove over there (we live 45 min away from eachother) and visited. Jeremy was so sick that he could not walk, could hardly talk, and was crying with frustration and didn't understand what was happening to him. He hated hospitals so refused to let anyone take him, until I convinced him something is seriously wrong. There were buckets in his room that he had been vomiting in and peeing in, as he could NOT walk. He was perfectly healthy before. On Sunday at 9 AM my dad took him to the emergency room. I stayed home and cleaned his whole room, his bedding, vomit, everything.. so when he got back home it would be comfortable for him. While cleaning his room I found roughly 20 balloons of heroin- black tar- 9 of them had been used and 11 of them were untouched. I flushed all of it down the toilet. I also left a note on his desk saying I loved him, and I am sorry if he feel I invaded his privacy by cleaning his room, I just wanted him to feel comfortable. I left the house before he came back with my dad, because I thought he was going to be mad about the heroin. Two days later, it is now Tuesday morning, I am at work eating a subway sandwich on my lunch break. I just so happened to already be on the phone with my mom, and my dad called her on the other line. We both immediately knew something was wrong with Jeremy, as my dad never calls her. Especially that early. She called me back, wouldn't tell me what was happening, and just said we need to get to the hospital. My dad found Jeremy dead early Tuesday morning, in his room, sitting in the same position and place where he had seen him the night before. He touched his skin and it still felt warm, so he called the ambulance. They told my dad to perform CPR until they arrived-- somehow, by some freak of nature, they were able to bring him back to life. When I arrived to the hospital Jeremy had only been there for an hour, and the doctors said he already coded 4 times but they finally have him stable. Eventually we discovered both of his kidneys had failed, and that he will need a dialysis of his blood will just poison his body to death. At this point I was standing beside him, in shock, watching all of the tubes. He was on 100% life support. I went home that night, after the doctors did the dialysis, and told me his potassium levels were back to normal. I felt like everything might be okay. Well the next day, I woke up and went back to the hospital, and immediately there was a whole team in the serenity room wanting to speak about his condition, and our options as his family. My mom, dad, and I sat there as we were told Jeremy is 100% brain dead, and there is absolutely no chance of him ever coming back. For some reason they were not able to take him off life support until the next day, so we scheduled the time to be at 4 PM. We all got to have a personal last moment with him, I got to tell him all of the non-thoughts I was having. I literally had no thoughts. I was in shock. I just layed on him in silence, kissed his eyelids, smelled him for the last time, and told him how much I loved him and how I'm not sure how to be an Amie without a Jeremy. And that part still holds true, I do not know what to do. I've lost pretty much all my friends, as a result of pushing them away, as none of them understand whatsoever the immense pain that is now my world. Anyway, heroin took my brothers life. On Wednesday, the day before he became very sick, he got some heroin from a friend of Erik's. He binged with that heroin, smoking all 9 balloons that night. Thursday he immediately got extremely sick from whatever the adulterant was that the heroin was cut with. It took 11 days in total to kill my brother. And I......... I ..........am lost. I know this is happening, but somehow still have a hard time accepting that it has happened. -- it has been three months, now.--