First was the much anticipated Dateline William "Billy" Miller Presentation to the country. I must have all my sensory perceptions on high alert for some "strange," (pun) reason. I felt Billy's presence sitting directly next to me watching his story on the TV. No emotion from him except total love while watching his children speak to millions on his behalf. What a life gift even in death. Something all of us would treasure for eternity. Then my work helper made plans to bring her daughter to for a play date with my Grand-children but she never showed up or called. "Manners," huh? No ghosts in that one that I know of, just another kink in the day that caused undue issues for us. Then the phone rang, and the caller said, "Diane, this is DeAnne." And before she ever completed those four words, I felt like I was not here. I felt some disconnect with this world. I knew that she was going to tell me death had arrived for her brother, my past husband who was in the hospital. I sensed death and fog all around my earthly and spiritual being. I just knew that I knew. It wasn't anxiety, it wasn't fear, it wasn't guessing....I knew and for the first time in my life death was near. I felt/sensed/lived that fact for ten seconds. Like a dream that you know really happened while you slept. Somewhere it happened. This happened also. Later that day he went in for a serious lung surgery. My Son, His Son, went up to see him, touched him, forgave him. I have to go also. I felt his spirit calling me yesterday but I had all the little girls so his Son could go, as well as waiting for the other little girl that never showed up or called. Don't cha just love when that happens? My third son called from Sedona, Arizona where he is hiking and taking in all the spirits and free closeness with God he can. He will be an amazing teacher soon. As well as his destination is Arkasas to stay with his estranged Father, finding peace in that relationship after two decades plus. And the eldest son passed on to us the news he has been diagnosed with emphysema. Even sadder are his living quarters called Prison. His Grandfather died of this, his Father is dying of this, and I get the news he is now diagnosed also. I pray he gets good care which will be a miracle in our prison system. (The Mother of his first Daughter who he communicates with weekly has COPD and experiences lung collapse too often, and her Father is also dying from emphysema as I write. Isn't that all a bit odd?) I suspect we entertain like spirits "sometimes." Last week while driving about the city I saw him three times walking on the streets in different areas. I would see him and get this elateous (is that a word?) sensation of happiness and joy, only to see it wasn't him. But it was! Was it a promise of his freedom? Was it his spirit? Was it my imagination? Not at all. It was him. I wish I could hug my son. We have to pray everyday he doesn't get stabbed with a shank in that unsafe place where gangs rule the house. He sure looked nice in his big coat walking freely on the streets of his city. That is what I must keep in my mind and that is all I should see and think, so his Angels can keep him safe and bring him home. Today I must go see his Father and handle it. Berdie is also in the same hospital...interesting huh?
