Up Close with Two Mothers

Catch a glimpse of the magic of the Visionary Explorers Group through the personal stories of Lisa C. of Raleigh, NC and Liz Morales of Long Island, NY.  Experiences shared and questions considered by the group frequently involve contact or communication with loved ones who have passed.  During our May 2016 meeting each mother spoke of healing experiences she had had with her son who is no longer in the physical body.  Their experiences are shared here with permission and essentially in their own words.


Lisa
 
 

"If you need me, say my name out loud because I always hear you."



Lisa rarely misses a meeting of the Visionary Explorers Group, and she almost always has amazing experiences to share.  She and her son Graham, who passed in 2013 at age 20, frequently communicate using water in a modified version of electronic voice phenomena (EVP).  Lisa turns on the tape recorder and the water, either indoors or outdoors, and talks to him.  A very natural concern is whether her loved one is still nearby.  During one session Lisa asked Graham, "Can you just give me something to tell me you're here?"  He responded, "If you need me, say my name out loud because I always hear you."  On other occasions Lisa asked, "Are you here with us?"  Sometimes he responded that he is there and at other times he replied, "We are always with you."  


She recently spoke with Graham through the same means about an upcoming trip to Madrid.  She asked, "Are you still going to come with us?  Are you going to meet us there?"  He replied, "We're going to be in Atlanta for a couple more days."  When she inquired why, Graham said he was attending a "symposium," a word Lisa admits she would not have chosen.  She asked what the conference was about and he said, "Mom, it's about consequences." 
 

Lisa was intrigued by that statement for several reasons.  A conference?  In Atlanta?  About consequences?  At first she interpreted Graham's statement literally and conducted an internet search, but found nothing to indicate such a conference was taking place in Atlanta.  She realized that his statement could have contained a symbolic message to her because one of her big lessons to her children as they were growing up was that their actions have consequences.  When this piece was sent to Lisa for approval prior to publication, she revealed additional information just received from Graham that shed more light on why he and others in spirit might attend a symposium on consequences.  The ongoing conversations between mother and son continue to be healing and enlightening.

 

"We were all transported back in time in that dream.”



One day Lisa was looking at a photograph of Graham when he was little.  She was missing those days in particular when she thought, "I'd like to see you again."  That night she had a very real "dream," so to speak, that her children were little and her family was living in the big old house in Wake Forest where they all recount having had such happy times together.  This experience was much more than a comforting, timely dream in response to her longing to see Graham as a young boy.  Rather, according to Lisa, "We were all transported back in time in that dream.”
 



Liz



"I feel you here.  I know you are really trying to make me feel you."



Liz Morales was working in her back yard on an afternoon off from her nursing and volunteering commitments.  She went inside the house to do a couple of things when she realized she had left her cell phone in the back yard.  As she headed back outside she "literally felt this force of some kind" that stopped her in her tracks.  She immediately became overwhelmed with emotion as she realized she was standing in the place in her back yard where she and her son Christopher had their last conversation a few days before he passed.  She had been there before, but this time was different.  


Her awareness that this "force" was Christopher took her breath away.  She said, "I feel you here.  I know you are really trying to make me feel you."  Liz told me, "Time really stopped.  For the moments that I was there, I was really just frozen, overwhelmed with emotion.  The force brought me to my knees as I relived the time we shared."


She then walked to her front yard and sat under the oak tree she had planted in memory of Christopher 4 1/2 years ago when he passed at age 24.  The tree, which is almost 15 feet tall, contains a plaque for him.  She continued to feel his presence and to be overwhelmed with emotion.  Just then Christopher's very good friend Anthony pulled up and saw how distraught she was, and they hugged each other.  Liz typically sees Christopher's close friends every few months, so it was quite synchronistic that Anthony appeared at her home on that day at that particular time.  


She explained to Anthony what had happened.  Anthony has his own "connections" with Christopher, many of which occur in his car while he is driving and listening to music.  Both of them were crying.  Anthony said, "You know, Liz, I even have his hat on."  Liz expressed to me that that feeling — that emotional overwhelm — just kept going because Christopher was still very present with her and because Anthony was participating in that moment.  And then a Domino's Pizza delivery car pulled up.  They both just stopped, stunned, because Christopher and his friends had frequently ordered Domino's Pizza.  It was just like Christopher to add some laughter to any situation.  Another synchronistic event.

 

"But on that day it was like, 'Hey, Ma, stop!  I'm  here!'"



It was one thing after another that day, and in the midst of tears they had so much laughter.  As they hugged each other, they both felt they were also hugging Christopher, and they "felt" his embrace as well.  She and Anthony wholeheartedly agreed that Christopher's message, that he is always present, came through loud and clear that day.  In Liz's words, "What a reminder and awesome experience it was.  An awareness of his presence always warms my heart."


Christopher had come to his mom twice in dreams, but during this visit she was fully awake, in motion, and it was like a wall or force that stopped her and made her realize that he was right there with her.  Liz said that the experience elicited a good cleansing through tears of sadness and tears of joy.  She said, "We all go through the busyness of life and sometimes we don't pay attention to messages sent."  She added, "But on that day it was like, 'Hey, Ma, stop!  I'm  here!'"  In closing, she said, "It's like living my life with him — in spirit."

 

The Visionary Explorers Group provides sacred space for sharing and reflecting on experiences such as those courageously shared here by Lisa and Liz.  Extraordinary experiences are often kept hidden despite the fact that they hold the key to people leading more productive and meaningful lives.  The group, a joint project of The Kamlak Center and Forever Family Foundation, is co-facilitated by Kimberly Saavedra and Dr. Betty J. Kovacs, author of The Miracle of Death: There is Nothing but Life and her forthcoming publication Merchants of Light: Frequencies of a New Consciousness.  They frequently guest co-host the Signs of Life Radio Show on behalf of Forever Family Foundation, a New York non-profit.

 

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About the Author
Knowing that life continues after physical death can have a significant impact on someone grieving the loss of a beloved family member, friend or pet. Kimberly Saavedra is Owner and Director of The Kamlak Center, a publishing company and teaching center that focuses on survival of consciousness, transformation of grief, and deeper orders of reality. She received her B.A. in Philosophy from the University of California, Los Angeles. In pursuit of her degree, she encountered a professor whose work and passion struck a deep chord. This "meeting" inspired Kimberly to create The Kamlak Center in 2002 as a platform to share the vision, research and personal experiences of Dr. Betty J. Kovacs, author of The Miracle of Death. Bringing afterlife stories into the light of day helps people to deal with grief on a different level of experience. Changing the way we think about death — and life. www.kamlak.com
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