Books That Have Helped: "Hello From Heaven!"

Bill and Judy Guggenheim, authors of the 1995 classic book "Hello From Heaven!", are often heralded as pioneers in the research field known as "After Death Communications", or "ADCs" for short.  The Guggenheims interviewed over 300 people who spoke about being contacted by their deceased loved ones.  Some of these individuals received communications from their lost loved ones almost immediately after their deaths, while others received their first contacts months or even years later.  The chapters are organized primarily by the method of communication received: some detect familiar smells of their deceased relatives, others hear voices, bodily appearances, visitations through dreams, and some even receive messages over the telephone.

"Hello From Heaven!" will probably not appeal to those with a strong scientific mindset, as there isn't anything in the way of "hard evidence" to convince such readers.  But for those who are willing to trust and believe in the accounts and stories of those who were interviewed in the book, "Hello from Heaven!" can provide an enormous amount of hope and comfort.  Even though I've had the book for many years, I continue to find it a major source of solace, especially in recent months.

Poetry in Grief: Henry van Dyke

One of my late mother's favorite poems has also become a favorite of mine.  Henry van Dyke Jr. (1852-1933) was an American author, poet, and minister in the Presbyterian Church.  For many years, he served on the faculty of Princeton University as a professor of English literature.  He also officiated at the funeral of Mark Twain in 1910.  He wrote many poems, and there is some question as to whether he is the true author of "I Am Standing Upon the Seashore," although some literary scholars believe him to be it.  Whoever DID write it has, in my humble opinion, composed a beautiful and hopeful ode to what awaits our deceased loves ones, and ultimately us as well.

"I Am Standing Upon The Seashore" by Henry van Dyke

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other. 

Then, someone at my side says;
"There, she is gone!" 

"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. 

And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, "There, she is gone!"
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout;
"Here she comes!"
And that is dying.