I had one of those days yesterday when I had to squeeze my spiritual practices into the early morning hours in order to arrive on time to a memorial service for a woman I’ve known for many years. In fact, one of her old boyfriends became my own for a period of time. I did not see him there.

Naturally, I engaged in conversations with people who knew her well. The person’s name who passed was Karen.

The man who found the unconscious body at the bottom of her stairway was her lawn person. As he relayed the story of his experience in finding her, he wept. He said she opened her one eye when he found her, and blinked. He said she squeezed his hand when she was being transferred to the gurney.

The other people whom I spoke to were hung up on the way Karen died. I was their  mirror as I said, “But she is free! She is enveloped in love.“

Then they said, “But she is all alone.”

Then they remembered, “Her parents are there and her grandson is there.”

I said there are crowds of angels and beings who are surrounding her with healing and never ending love.

Finally, I spoke at length to the minister, a sweet young person who had insight into my world view on life, death and rebirth. I remembered all the funerals Tomaso and I attended together. At everyone, we gravitate to the minister or priest, and felt immediately at home. I suddenly felt Tomaso‘s presence when I was talking to the sweet soul.

Tomaso sent me to the young minister, wise beyond her years. For reasons I do not yet understand, Tomaso is always with me. OM