Checked into my 1956 High School graduating Memorial site. Out of a
503 classmates, 131 are gone, many more unknown and missing. As I
check over the list of missing. I know of three amongst the gone not reported.
Friends I thought I could not live without have passed on. So for me there
is a message. Live each day as if it is the last. I have
seen life beyond Death. Have once passed through the White Light.
LIFE AFTER DEATH
I saw the light that is Eternity
I felt the warmth an Orange-red glow
A hand touched inside of me
A Godly voice, "Come with me your time to go!"
A tunnel
And there were Angels there
Pleading, "Come with us who care!"
And I followed!
Left My Soul behind
But there was doubt
As I looked below for a sign
And there was Mortal indecision
And drawn to the love within the gates
I fell to the waiting arms below
There was peace and regret but yet
Then to return was too Late!
I heard the pleading voices of Mom and Sis. Beside them sat a little girl on a chair.
Her pleading invite let me know of her caring. A little black boy floated by.
Years later I remembered. My friend Bobby who died in a swimming rafting accident. When we were seven.
I didn't see the Lord but knew he was there. The soft voice calling
Yet below there was a strong pull of what I would leave behind.
I needed a sign. My wife in panic was shaking my unbreathing body. My children
safe in bed unknowing and I knew my choice.
It was not a dream and so real. I fell as fast as I had ascended and breathing returned. Next day
was the big game. 32 points and we won. Several months later a routine physical, "When did you have
your heart attack. There is nothing recorded?" "Heart attack?"So massive the scaring you should have died!"
Mom an orphan when she was a girl once lived in San Francisco with her adopted family. She and their daughter
became best friends. I was only eleven when we took our only out of state vacation to Knox berry farm. On the
way we stopped to visit her friend. She had a child a little girl. I called her Golden Locks. She and Sis I read
nursery stories. She sat on my lap. My nickname was Punky. As we were leaving she shouted, "When I grow
up Punky I am going to marry you." Weeks after our return Mom came from the mail box. She was crying.
I asked her why. "The little girl you called Goldenlocks. We did not tell you. It was not her hair it was a wig. She was dying of leukemia.
Her Mom said she died. Her last words whispered to her Mom, " Tell Punky I well see him in heaven." One day
eleven years old I had forgotten my trip to Knox berry farm and the little girl. Years later I took my family to San Francisco,
Show them where Mom had lived on Lombard street. Thinking only of the famous rolling hill down
But Mom had lived on the west side of the famous curving road. I called
for my wife, "Stop the car!" We were in front of the address where Mom had lived, and I knew, it came to me the little girl
sitting next to Mom and Sis waiting was Golden Locks. I knew then the Angel I have alway felt sitting on my shoulder and
guiding me through hard times. I fear not dying.
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