I definitely copied and pasted two ADC stories yesterday, now i can’t find that post.
If I could, I will if they were saved, I would write this tonight:
When I was a kid I knew 2 things: 1) I was never getting married. 2) The work I would do would be with my husband. Both are true, both happened. I’m not married, I am working with the one that would have been my husband but he committed suicide and flat left me. He’ s been with me mostly, since 1996 always in times of need, like 9/11. I even wrote that last night. I am sure I read that everything written on WP is automatically saved. I’ll spend tomorrow learning this and finding my way around.
To make a long story short: I was in the act of putting earrings into a jewel box on top of my dresser when one of them fell out of my hand. I made sure to keep my eyes on it as it fell so I would not miss where it would land.
I watched it fall and then, before hitting the floor, they disappeared in a slight haze of gray moving swirl. Not believing this could be, I searched
under the dresser, lifting the suitcase lying there sure the earring had to land just under the edge. NO earring. And I did not
hit the shift key to make the “no” capital letters just now….whoa!
Remembering I had asked Bryan earlier to show me physical proof of his presence not just in my head, and not just more mere images
of frogs and numbers, I said out loud, okay, in the morning I will find my earring on the floor.
Of course, my mind being what it is these days, I completely forgot about the earring all day til it was time to put it on. After fumbling with the catch, I
opened the box. It wasn’t there and my mind scrambled to remember where I’d put it. In an instant I noticed that my left
hand held the earring and my right held the earring back!
1 week later and I am still blown away and aware that this is the biggest most amazing thing that ever happened to me!
Too bad I’m losing my mind, I cannot find the ADC blog I started yesterday.
So, on 11/2/2021 I start anew:
Buddy, we’re all psychic. Everything is energy. We’re all connected with the energy. I recommend reading Journey of Souls by Michael Newton. Remember when we watched A Rumor of Angels after I told you, with embarrassment, about my ADC when I saw a mirage of Bryan to my upper left and I then stuck out my foot, while at my sink, and kicked him in the butt? In A Rumour of Angels, Maggie Smith’s character does that to her paramour to get him to dance, if I remember correctly. B rolled over in a somersault.
Spend time in quiet and listen. Not to your thoughts, your intuition. ‘It’s in the quiet”, she said as if this is something she does often. No, not enough. But I am by myself mostly, so there’s that.
It knocked the breath right out of me. That was his license plate number, one I loved who died by suicide 20 years ago. I was at my computer and received a message from our book manufacturer rep who jokingly exaggerated that there were 4,328 boxes to be shipped. I KNEW immediately that B was there, that he did that, in the way that sometimes we just know things.
The first visit was several months after he left. I came home from classes and immediately sat at the kitchen table, a usually outside picnic type, without even removing my winter park, without lighting the wood stove in my sweet little cabin off a main road with the woods as my backyard. In a few minutes I was up and putting on “our” album, Led Zeppelin 6. Our song was, remains, Stairway to Heaven. Corny, right? The first note he ever wrote to me he signed, Bryan, the Corny. And there I sat for however long, an hour maybe, in his presence, his Bryanness. It was intense.
May 27, 1996
I’m sitting at my desk at my crappy job at a publishing company where in customer service I took orders for a set of manufacturing products directories. Big green books alphabetically listed in a set of about 33.
I answer the phone, it’s our supplier’s contact, Paul, I think it was. He tells me he’s sending me an email. He sends the e-mail with an exaggerated number of boxes he needed to unpack then ship to us: 4,328. I was struck with the knowing that the number was sent by the one I loved who got away; a Vietnam Vet who succumbed to PTSD after 3 tours in country. That was his license plate number. Maybe, it occurs to me now, he knew I’d remember that number because in his expanded state he could know that all those serendipitous meetings in the parking lot were intentionally engineered by me in my desire to spend time with him outside of the Vets Office and other school related hangouts; the library, cafeteria, quads. I’m happy to say that I did not know his full class schedule. I only knew that on Tuesdays and Thursdays he was in the parking lot at 4 something, We’d go sit in one of our cars and solve the problems of the world, share personal stories, family stuff, experiences that affected us emotionally and socially. We became friends. I was madly in love with him. He had a girlfriend.
That last week in August 1996 was my vacation week being spent at my sister’s sweet house on the hill on the gorgeous North Shore of Long Island. Poor Buddy, I became hysterical crying the moment I started telling her about what became the beginning of a 20-year reign of ADC’s, After Death Communications from the most remarkable love I’ve ever known.
My poor boss, Barbara, with whom I had a nice friendship. I started crying every day for one year. Until I got a handle on the deeply buried grief. When B died, I was living with someone else a state away. I had no place to grieve, to process the loss I felt so deeply in my soul.
One night at the Bear Den where we went to drink and dance, not that I was a drinker, I walked in with J and B was at the bar. He turned to stare me down with such an ugly, twisted by pain look in his crazy eyes that J asked, “What’s up with you and Miller? You can cut the tension between you two with a knife.”
The following week, back in NH, I tried calling B while J was out. We were usually both at home after work hours. B didn’t have a message machine, I decided I’d make an excuse to go home without J the following weekend. I was to enlist the help of a bestie, and ask her to be my alibi. But that didn’t happen.
Monday afternoon, back home after work, I’m sitting on J’s lap and we’re playing a made-up game and laughing. I’m hoping to recall what that game was…
The phone rings, Jody answers and hands the receiver to me. Without any introduction, any warning, I hear my friend’s voice say these words, “Bryan Meilleur hung himself”.
I had no breath. I was dumbstruck, my mouth agape. After what seemed like a very long time, I pushed myself up onto the floor and attempted to get myself to the bedroom. Along the way I collapsed against the wall and heard shattering glass. I looked down on the floor and it was clear. The sound was the shattering of my soul. I heard J saying, “You were in love with him, weren’t you?”. I denied this saying he was my friend.
10/28/21
I just had this very clear picture of him, a photo of him, actually. Very strong presence. Wow! He’s heeeeere….. haha
I felt him and heard the words, “other half”, Joni Mitchell’s “You could complete me, I complete you”. I questioned that, he explained it’s because of the work we were to do here, together. I always imagined he would have worked as a Gov’t Rep in DC. As a kid I got so excited by Maryland when we did family road trips to the Capitol. I wanted to live there when I grew up. Now if I had made it to my desired college, U of Maryland… Who knows what would have been?
Shall we talk about how I feel about his presence now after how many years…5. From 1995 or 1996 – 2016. We healed from Vietnam sitting on my bed cross legged, him behind me, watching Platoon, I think. I avoided movies about the Vietnam War for decades. Then I went to the premier of Apocalypse Now as a guest of Francis Ford himself. My boss was a business partner of his.
I’m talking about and looking into doing suicide prevention counseling. I don’t believe I could have a practice without licensing and to be licensed in CA, one needs an MSW. However, I will pursue this possibility of helping in a way I believe I can.
Well, that was an intense moment. Is he here? I read often that “they”, our dearly departeds, are always with us.
I’m remembering my experiences of 9/11. I was in my office on the 9thFloor at 34th and 8th when a young woman in our department exclaimed that a plane just flew into the World Trade Center. Some of us joined her at the floor wide window looking downtown and mused what could have happened. A private plane pilot got disoriented? Then the second plane hit and it hit us all that we were being attacked. One fellow crumbled to his knees and started praying.
The phones were ringing off their hooks at 6 desks. I went to my phone and answered one cal. The woman was furious that she was having trouble ordering the books. I explained that the World Trade Center had just been flown into by two airplanes. It didn’t register with her because she insisted on talking about The Thomas Register. I told her we were being sent home. And soon we were all marching down the stairways and out of the building, The CNN Building before Columbus Circle happened.
As I walked the block to my residence, I was aware of B’s presence beside me. A VT license plate confirmed what I felt. Signs almost always came in twos for me, confirmations. And then there was a woman next to me covered in soot and ash. She was walking to Brooklyn. Or New Jersey. I offered her a chance to rest, to shower, put on clean clothes, maybe eat something. She was my friend Beth’s size so I called Beth and she said yes, she’d lend some clothes.
11/2/21
wanted to bolt, then I thought, nah, let them know of my different kinda life. No husband, kids, house in the suburbs. Then it occurred to me, no, let her know who also lives there; corporate executives, contributors/employees of world renowned organizations, theater folks, writers, photographers, musicians. Women who greatly enriched my life, with whom I had companionship and some big NYC fun!
Passwords are the bane of my online existence. I had a system down that is no longer working. It must be typos I make when I attempt to enter a site.
dy, we’re all psychic. Everything is energy. We’re all connected with the energy. I recommend reading Journey of Souls by Michael Newton. Remember when we watched A Rumor of Angels after I told you, with embarrassment, about my ADC when I saw a mirage of Bryan to my upper left and I then stuck out my foot, while at my sink, and kicked him in the butt? In A Rumor of Angels, Maggie Smith’s character does that to her paramour to get him to dance, if I remember correctly. B rolled over in a somersault.
Spend time in quiet and listen. Not to your thoughts, your intuition. ‘It’s in the quiet”, she said as if this is something she does often. No, not enough. But I am by myself mostly, so there’s that.
It knocked the breath right out of me. That was his license plate number, one I loved who died by suicide 20 years ago. I was at my computer and received a message from our book manufacturer rep who jokingly exaggerated that there were 4,328 boxes to be shipped. I KNEW immediately that B was there, that he did that, in the way that sometimes we just know things.
The first visit was several months after he left. I came home from classes and immediately sat at the kitchen table, a usually outside picnic type, without even removing my winter park, without lighting the wood stove in my sweet little cabin off a main road with the woods as my backyard. In a few minutes I was up and putting on “our” album, Led Zeppelin 6. Our song was, remains, Stairway to Heaven. Corny, right? The first note he ever wrote to me he signed, Bryan, the Corny. And there I sat for however long, an hour maybe, in his presence, his Bryanness. It was intense.
May 27, 1996
I’m sitting at my desk at my crappy job at a publishing company where in customer service I took orders for a set of manufacturing products directories. Big green books alphabetically listed in a set of about 33.
I answer the phone, it’s our supplier’s contact, Paul, I think it was. He tells me he’s sending me an email. He sends the e-mail with an exaggerated number of boxes he needed to unpack then ship to us: 4,328. I was struck with the knowing that the number was sent by the one I loved who got away; a Vietnam Vet who succumbed to PTSD after 3 tours in country. That was his license plate number. Maybe, it occurs to me now, he knew I’d remember that number because in his expanded state he could know that all those serendipitous meetings in the parking lot were intentionally engineered by me in my desire to spend time with him outside of the Vets Office and other school related hangouts; the library, cafeteria, quads. I’m happy to say that I did not know his full class schedule. I only knew that on Tuesdays and Thursdays he was in the parking lot at 4 something, We’d go sit in one of our cars and solve the problems of the world, share personal stories, family stuff, experiences that affected us emotionally and socially. We became friends. I was madly in love with him. He had a girlfriend.
That last week in August 1996 was my vacation week being spent at my sister’s sweet house on the hill on the gorgeous North Shore of Long Island. Poor Buddy, I became hysterical crying the moment I started telling her about what became the beginning of a 20-year reign of ADC’s, After Death Communications from the most remarkable love I’ve ever known.
My poor boss, Barbara, with whom I had a nice friendship. I started crying every day for one year. Until I got a handle on the deeply buried grief. When B died, I was living with someone else a state away. I had no place to grieve, to process the loss I felt so deeply in my soul.
One night at the Bear Den where we went to drink and dance, not that I was a drinker, I walked in with J and B was at the bar. He turned to stare me down with such an ugly, twisted by pain look in his crazy eyes that J asked, “What’s up with you and Miller? You can cut the tension between you two with a knife.”
The following week, back in NH, I tried calling B while J was out. We were usually both at home after work hours. B didn’t have a message machine, I decided I’d make an excuse to go home without J the following weekend. I was to enlist the help of a bestie, and ask her to be my alibi. But that didn’t happen.
Monday afternoon, back home after work, I’m sitting on J’s lap and we’re playing a made-up game and laughing. I’m hoping to recall what that game was…
The phone rings, Jody answers and hands the receiver to me. Without any introduction, any warning, I hear my friend’s voice say these words, “Bryan Meilleur hung himself”.
I had no breath. I was dumbstruck, my mouth agape. After what seemed like a very long time, I pushed myself up onto the floor and attempted to get myself to the bedroom. Along the way I collapsed against the wall and heard shattering glass. I looked down on the floor and it was clear. The sound was the shattering of my soul. I heard J saying, “You were in love with him, weren’t you?”. I denied this saying he was my friend.
10/28/21
I just had this very clear picture of him, a photo of him, actually. Very strong presence. Wow! He’s heeeeere….. haha
I felt him and heard the words, “other half”, Joni Mitchell’s “You could complete me, I complete you”. I questioned that, he explained it’s because of the work we were to do here, together. I always imagined he would have worked as a Gov’t Rep in DC. As a kid I got so excited by Maryland when we did family road trips to the Capitol. I wanted to live there when I grew up. Now if I had made it to my desired college, U of Maryland… Who knows what would have been?
Shall we talk about how I feel about his presence now after how many years…5. From 1995 or 1996 – 2016. We healed from Vietnam sitting on my bed cross legged, him behind me, watching Platoon, I think. I avoided movies about the Vietnam War for decades. Then I went to the premier of Apocalypse Now as a guest of Francis Ford himself. My boss was a business partner of his.
I’m talking about and looking into doing suicide prevention counseling. I don’t believe I could have a practice without licensing and to be licensed in CA, one needs an MSW. However, I will pursue this possibility of helping in a way I believe I can.
Well, that was an intense moment. Is he here? I read often that “they”, our dearly departeds, are always with us.
I’m remembering my experiences of 9/11. I was in my office on the 9thFloor at 34th and 8th when a young woman in our department exclaimed that a plane just flew into the World Trade Center. Some of us joined her at the floor wide window looking downtown and mused what could have happened. A private plane pilot got disoriented? Then the second plane hit and it hit us all that we were being attacked. One fellow crumbled to his knees and started praying.
The phones were ringing off their hooks at 6 desks. I went to my phone and answered one cal. The woman was furious that she was having trouble ordering the books. I explained that the World Trade Center had just been flown into by two airplanes. It didn’t register with her because she insisted on talking about The Thomas Register. I told her we were being sent home. And soon we were all marching down the stairways and out of the building, The CNN Building before Columbus Circle happened.
As I walked the block to my residence, I was aware of B’s presence beside me. A VT license plate confirmed what I felt. Signs almost always came in twos for me, confirmations. And then there was a woman next to me covered in soot and ash. She was walking to Brooklyn. Or New Jersey. I offered her a chance to rest, to shower, put on clean clothes, maybe eat something. She was my friend Beth’s size so I called Beth and she said yes, she’d lend some clothes.
11/2/21
When an old classmate said, “So this is who we were jealous of?” when picking me up at the Webster, at first I wanted to bolt, then I thought, no, let her know wanted to bolt, then I thought, nah, let them know of my different kinda life. No husband, kids, house in the suburbs. Then it occurred to me, no, let her know who also lives there; corporate executives, contributors/employees of world renowned organizations, theater folks, writers, photographers, musicians. Women who greatly enriched my life, with whom I had companionship and some big NYC fun!
That last week in August was the beginning of an intense period of sometimes daily, once a two week period of every day, everywhere I was experiences. When I went to the movies with friends, B was there. On the night of the annual Webster Bar B Q, I had to leave early because I was so distracted by B’s presence, comments. I went up to my room where I began writing in notebooks, a journal of my life with Bryan visits. The only one I shared this with was my sister. And then I sought other people who knew what I did.
I found a website run by the Guggenheims whose best seller, Hello From Heaven, was opening a lot of eyes and providing a safe community for people grieving for loved ones and discovering that Love Never Dies (another good read), ADC’s, After Death Communication, are a real about a year a friend from Hello From Heaven’s website started one of her own, After Death Communication and Prayer Wave, with a Christian/Jesus foundation but because she was so compassionate and we bonded closely, I became a part of that group as the Hello From Heaven website fell away. It never hurts to be prayed for in Jesus’s name on Prayer Wave. thing experienced by many. At this search, there are now so many forms of media with the title, Love Never Dies, I’m not finding the book that helped me adjust to my new reality. That and the NYC psychiatrist who saw me a few times a week for free! I was an interesting case. After
OurWorld 