Because of what I saw and heard then, I was very far from surprised
when, despite such a serious stroke, my mother did not leave us very
soon afterwards, which is what the medical staff and others anticipated.
Specifically, I found myself on the periphery of a welcoming party, not
that I saw anyone but my late father, sitting in a chair by a door that
was ajar and heard voices, one very much like a late aunt, excitedly
"Joan's coming Home".
Not long afterwards I saw a woman with dark hair down to her shoulders,
laying on her back. A man with black hair was standing by her, behind
her head, with his hands under her arms, getting ready to pull, help her
out of the physical. that action elicited a firm but not pleasant
response from the woman,
"Not so fast, Dick".
man was my late father, the woman was my mother. She made a firm,
conscious decision not to depart the physical world just then.
A few minutes after that i found myself walking down a long sloping path
curving round a grassy hill, talking to my father. Mark and Jane, my
cousin and his wife, were just behind me, a matter of foot or two away.
occasionally I heard tem as I walked and chatted with my father, though
the sounded more like twenty to twenty five feet away, out of the ward
and down the hall.
A while later, I was standing on the other side of the bed, next to
a table, and Cathy came through to my mother’s crown charka. My natural
reaction was to move to give Cathy room to get through, momentarily
forgetting that a physical table is no barrier to an Angel. My sudden
movement prompted Jane, on the other side of the bed,
to ask if I was all right. I assured her that I was fine but said
nothing about what had happened. She, of course, could not see Cathy.
If I ranked my experiences on a scale of 0 to 100, with the latter
representing the greatest, the most profound, then watching my Guardian
Angel, Cathy, go to my mother’s crown chakra was only 15 to
20 on that scale.
The higher level experiences were included in my write up for Dr Peter
Fenwick and will go into the public domain in due course.
While relaxing in our garden on a sunny day in July 2004 I suddenly
saw, was shown, a glimpse of another lifetime. It only lasted three
seconds or so and was slightly cartoon style in presentation, detail,
rather than very clear as I have seen such things before. There was
a tall, well built, Norman Knight, Nobleman, holding a broadsword
with both hands. The sword was pointed at the ground but seemed about
to be lifted to deliver a hefty blow. Just behind the Norman was a
somewhat shorter woman in a white headscarf, yellow/gold silk looking
hat and matching dress, robes. Her hands were up each side of her
face with her mouth open in obvious alarm at what the Norman was about
to do, might do. The woman was my Mother, the Norman a relative. It
was then that I was told the reason for the delay in my mother passing
over, at least one reason, the other was for me though I did not realise
that for several weeks.
I last saw my mother, physically, on Saturday 9th October 2004, in
her Ward at Stoke Mandeville Hospital. It was then that I was given
an explanation of some of what I had experienced over the previous
On the following day, Sunday, I was told that it would all be over
by Thursday. A relative 'phoned early on the Monday morning to say
that he had received a call from Stoke Mandeville Hospital to say
that Mum had passed away, in his terms, passed over, in mine, at 3.30
a.m. that morning.
During breakfast Jo, my wife, said she had been told on the previous
day that it would all be over by Thursday. I said that I had been
told the same and asked her who had told her. Jo said she did not
know, I said it was my Mother who had informed me. Neither of us understood
why there was such a discrepancy.
We were later told that there had been a very marked and rapid change
in my Mother’s physical condition on that Sunday.
On the Thursday following my mother’s passing I was in Clacton
with Mark and Jane to arrange the funeral. It was during that day
I was informed of the reason for the discrepancy in timing when I
heard my Mother say, “I was not sure how long it would take
me to disconnect”. I readily accepted that, though I had witnessed
a great deal of disconnection anyway over the previous several weeks.
Later, while staying at my mother's house just before the funeral, Mark
got out some family photographs. I had no problems with most of them;
when my mother was in the WAAF, just before the war with her hair pinned
up, when her hair was permed in the 1960s photographs. However, the 195
wedding photographs and one of my mother pushing me in a pushchair, with
my father walking beside her in Scarborough in 1949 did give me
problems. That was because of her appearance in those years and,
especially, the shoulder length dark hair. it was just as I had been
seeing her, at the higher level, from the time she declined to go,
straight away, with my father, right through the summer, during glimpses
and conversations with her, when I had seen my mother and father
together and so on.