As the weeks pass since my beloved colleague Rex Kocherhans crossed over, I have experienced a plethora of incredibly intimate and sacred insights into what we would call The Other Side.
The most pronounced?
That the way we choose to live our lives directly affects how we evolve when we pass through the veil.
The most pronounced?
That the way we choose to live our lives directly affects how we evolve when we pass through the veil.
One of the things I love the most about my dear Rex, is that I don’t have to question what he is doing in some far off obscure place, because I feel him so clearly here now. I am reverenced at the glimpse into the reality of how clearly his work continues on both sides of the veil.
I have had people close to me die before (including my mother). I have, at times in the past, had a sense that they were close. It felt very quiet, like my mind was enlightened to the fact that they were there.
With Rex it has been different...Maybe it is the way we worked in tandem with each other in mortality, or our temperaments that were so similar, or simply the unexplainable ways we always seemed to be synched up with each other on a spiritual level. Whatever the reasons, since almost the moment of his passing, I have felt him with me, in a shockingly tangible way.
What I know for sure is this: In his mortal lifetime, Rex was GOOD, he did his best to be loyal, and strong, he had a profound ability to help others at the soul level, he valued emotional honesty, and he was ALWAYS in some quiet conversation with himself.
I was glad to be perched right next to him. We kept tabs on each other throughout the day, and I got to know his rhythms, and he mine. We took turns as one another’s wingman, and on occasion flew interference for each other.
One day he had finished with a client, and as we maneuvered around each other past the bathroom, he looked me in the eyes, and I knew in an instant it had been intense for him. Rex loved his clients, all of them, but he was certainly human, and as with any work, sometimes we all wonder if we are doing the good we hope to.
So at a glance, I wrapped my arms around him and spoke into his ear a few famous lines I recite to my son Tom, when I know he’s had a rough day:
“How do I love thee, Let me count the ways.”
... But instead of continuing with a poem I have never heard (thought it was Shakespeare), I instead just count really fast, in a distinctively British voice:
“One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, NINE...and on.”
We both chuckled and he said quietly in my ear: “Thanks Syl”, before letting go, I could feel his mood had lifted.
In the future, this little interchange would become a running joke to the point that, when he would give me a squeeze, all I would have to do would be to count from one to twenty really fast, he would be quick to catch my meaning, and we would both chuckle and go on with our day.
So I recently experienced Rex in a dream. He wanted to thank me for the way I loved him during his life, and said he always adored me for my strength, and that he would remain close and continue to support me throughout my life. Lastly, as I felt his familiar warmth and goodness, he told me to study the poet Elizabeth Barrette Browning: “Study her life and her poety, Syl”. He said.
The next evening I googled her and was delighted to the point of laughter when the first poem that came up revealed the line:
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”
by the last line of the poem I was in tears as I read:
“--- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee even better after death.”
Of course, true to himself Rex was coming through clearly. Every bit as clearly as in mortality. This is only one of many instances where we have been dancing through the veil, in a similar way that we used to jostle around one another in our little upstairs office.
The very things I loved and admired about him before his passing, continue now beyond what we all seem to take for granted, as our only reality.
In truth the so-called “spirit realm” is right here surrounding us. We only need to be capable of attuning to one another...whatever side of the veil we happen to be on in the moment.
Bless you my friend, you are still giving us all so many reasons to Love you. Thank You!
(by the way, I think it is safe to say that Rex has certainly crossed paths with EBB. Interestingly, Elisabeth Browning and Rex's funerals were held on the same day, July 1st.)
With Rex it has been different...Maybe it is the way we worked in tandem with each other in mortality, or our temperaments that were so similar, or simply the unexplainable ways we always seemed to be synched up with each other on a spiritual level. Whatever the reasons, since almost the moment of his passing, I have felt him with me, in a shockingly tangible way.
What I know for sure is this: In his mortal lifetime, Rex was GOOD, he did his best to be loyal, and strong, he had a profound ability to help others at the soul level, he valued emotional honesty, and he was ALWAYS in some quiet conversation with himself.
I was glad to be perched right next to him. We kept tabs on each other throughout the day, and I got to know his rhythms, and he mine. We took turns as one another’s wingman, and on occasion flew interference for each other.One day he had finished with a client, and as we maneuvered around each other past the bathroom, he looked me in the eyes, and I knew in an instant it had been intense for him. Rex loved his clients, all of them, but he was certainly human, and as with any work, sometimes we all wonder if we are doing the good we hope to.
So at a glance, I wrapped my arms around him and spoke into his ear a few famous lines I recite to my son Tom, when I know he’s had a rough day:
“How do I love thee, Let me count the ways.”
... But instead of continuing with a poem I have never heard (thought it was Shakespeare), I instead just count really fast, in a distinctively British voice:
“One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, NINE...and on.”
We both chuckled and he said quietly in my ear: “Thanks Syl”, before letting go, I could feel his mood had lifted.
In the future, this little interchange would become a running joke to the point that, when he would give me a squeeze, all I would have to do would be to count from one to twenty really fast, he would be quick to catch my meaning, and we would both chuckle and go on with our day.
So I recently experienced Rex in a dream. He wanted to thank me for the way I loved him during his life, and said he always adored me for my strength, and that he would remain close and continue to support me throughout my life. Lastly, as I felt his familiar warmth and goodness, he told me to study the poet Elizabeth Barrette Browning: “Study her life and her poety, Syl”. He said.
The next evening I googled her and was delighted to the point of laughter when the first poem that came up revealed the line:“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”
by the last line of the poem I was in tears as I read:
“--- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee even better after death.”
Of course, true to himself Rex was coming through clearly. Every bit as clearly as in mortality. This is only one of many instances where we have been dancing through the veil, in a similar way that we used to jostle around one another in our little upstairs office.
The very things I loved and admired about him before his passing, continue now beyond what we all seem to take for granted, as our only reality.
In truth the so-called “spirit realm” is right here surrounding us. We only need to be capable of attuning to one another...whatever side of the veil we happen to be on in the moment.
Bless you my friend, you are still giving us all so many reasons to Love you. Thank You!
(by the way, I think it is safe to say that Rex has certainly crossed paths with EBB. Interestingly, Elisabeth Browning and Rex's funerals were held on the same day, July 1st.)
1 comment:
so beautiful. so true. thank you.
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