I decided to write my book nine months after Mike's death. On September 2, 1996, Mike fell asleep at the wheel, went off the road, hit a tree and died instantly. From the moment I learned of his death, my life changed forever. I had never lost someone so close to me; it was impossible to comprehend. Mike was one of the greatest people I had ever known; it seemed so unfair that he was taken from everyone whose lives he touched. He was kind, generous, loving, fun to be with... I could go on and on. But most of all, he was inspiring to me. He always brought out the best in me, he taught me to appreciate the beauty of life and to laugh often and much, and certainly made this world a bit better place because he passed through (Ralph Waldo Emerson).

Mike's death was one of the most painful things I have ever had to go through. For months, I felt like I was losing my mind, being unable to deal with it. For months, I questioned God and if there was really life after death. I started attending church with hopes that I would gain the faith that death is not the end, but rather the beginning of eternal life. In church, I didn't find what I was looking for, so I kept looking.

I began reading several books on grief and loss that I checked out from the library. They all seemed to give me a sense of peace, each in a different way. One book in particular, "Getting Through the Night: Finding Your Way After the Loss of a Loved One" by Eugenia Price was the most helpful. This book was very spiritual and truly helped me find that faith I was looking for.

After reading Price's book, I began to notice little things that were happening around me that seemed to be more than just coincidence. Small little things happened around my house that appeared to be signs from Mike. I figured that either I was making more out of these things than they really were or I was completely losing my mind. Each incident wasn't quite enough to convince me that Mike was really watching over me. Every night that I prayed, I would ask God to give me a definite sign, one where there wouldn't be any doubt that it was really a sign from Mike.

Since I was having so much trouble dealing with and accepting Mike's death, I prayed that God would give me a definite sign so that I would have that peace. If I knew for sure that there was life after death and that someday I would see Mike again, I wouldn't hurt so much. I could also live the rest of my life happily without constantly feeling that part of my soul had been ripped out. I never did get a definite sign, but so many little things happened that it finally convinced me there was far more than our short time here on earth.

I began talking to several people about their beliefs and strange things that have happened to them as well. The more people I talked to, the stronger my belief in the afterlife became.

So many people, including myself at one time, don't have that faith to guide them through tragedies such as this. If only we all had the belief that there was really a Heaven and that our loved ones that have passed away are truly in a better place, it would make life so much easier to live.

I decided to share all of my strange incidents, as well as some from others, to hopefully spread my newfound faith upon all of those who are where I once was - hurting, aching, feeling angry, missing, feeling empty, etc. It doesn't have to and shouldn't be that way. I hope that these inspirational stories will help all of you who are grieving over the loss of a loved one. From these stories, I wish for you to find that inner peace, faith, strength and inspiration to overcome your loss and feel that joy and happiness in your hearts you once felt - to feel whole once again. Remember, we will all be together again - on the other side...

"THE CD PLAYER"
The first sign happened to me on the day of Mike's funeral. While I was getting ready, I decided to play a CD of some upbeat music to hopefully raise my spirits. Mike never cared for my choice of music. I put in a CD and within a few minutes, it started making this terrible sound. I looked at the CD player and it said, "disc error." It had never done this before. I cleaned the CD, but when I started it over, the same thing happened. I tried a different CD and the same thing happened again. Both of these CD's were bands that Mike didn't like.
Being silly, I said out loud, "Okay Mike, fine, I'll play something you like," and put in a CD of one of Mike's favorite bands. Surprisingly the disc played fine.
Small coincidence? You be the judge.

"MOVING PICTURE"
During the months following Mike's death, I grew very close to his parents. So close in fact, I made them my daughter's Godparents. I visited them quite often and we shared our beautiful memories of Mike, as well as our pain. It really seemed to help.
During one of my visits to their home, I asked if I could have a few pictures of Mike. Out of our five year friendship, I only had one picture of him. Although I thought perhaps I was asking too much of them, Bob and Modest were delighted to give me as many pictures as I wanted. As much as I would have loved to take them all home, I looked through some photo albums and chose only two. One was his senior picture and the other was a family picture that was taken about a year before he died.
When I went home, I set the pictures in a slot of my desk, where I spend most of my time on the computer. Every now and then, I'd take a break from my work and look at the pictures. Sometimes I'd get caught up in the memories. Reality would set in each time and I'd simply say out loud, "I really miss you Mike, I hope you're in a better place."
Over the next two weeks, something strange happened. At least five different times, when I walked into my room, the family picture would be laying out by my computer keyboard, right where I couldn't miss it. Although I had three pictures in the slot, it was always that same picture of his whole family. I know I didn't leave it there because I always put the pictures back into the slot, and no one else was here to move it. Or was there? I began to wonder if it was Mike's way of letting me know he IS out there and IN a better place.

"ADVICE FROM BEYOND"
A few months after Mike died, while I was out shopping, a sales person approached me with a sample of a men's cologne, claiming it was a great gift idea. I looked at the small bottle she handed me and surprisingly, it was Joop, the cologne that Mike always wore. I thanked her and walked away. When I opened the bottle and smelled it, I was overwhelmed with emotions. Mike always wore that cologne and I loved it; I couldn't help but think of him.
I put the small bottle in the side pocket of my purse and kept it there for months. Occasionally I would smell it and think of him. Six month's after Mike died, my family decided to start attending Church. We all felt that religion was something missing from our lives. I had hoped to find some peace and a strong faith in Heaven and eternal life, to help me deal with my loss. We picked this new Catholic Church that was close to my mom's house. That Sunday morning, as we walked into this Church for the first time, the bottle of Joop cologne fell out of my purse and smashed. Glass and cologne went everywhere. I thought that was so odd that it fell out of my purse, when it had been there for months and never fell out before. I was carrying my purse as I always did; it wasn't like I tipped it over or anything. At that point I really thought nothing of it but an accident.
After the Church service, we had to go to a new member's meeting. We were really disappointed that this particular Church expected its members to donate all their time to the Church. They asked us what skills we had and what we could offer to the Church. They truly wanted all of our time and money. The Church required that we meet with the priest and tell him what we could give to the Church. I found it odd that all they were concerned about was what WE could give to them; it was never mentioned what we could expect from the Church.
I had a really bad feeling about that Church. I didn't want that big of a commitment; I just wanted a place to worship once a week. I wanted a place to find comfort and peace. Apparently that wasn't the place I was going to find what I was seeking.
I really feel the cologne breaking was a sign from Mike telling me not to go to this Church. It was just far too strange that for so long the cologne managed to stay in my purse just fine and suddenly it fell out and broke. Ironically, all the peace I found did not come from a church.

"SCENT FROM HEAVEN"
The home I now live in I bought from Mike about eight and a half months before he died. We had a lot of good times here in the three years he had lived here. After his death, I cherished all the memories we had made here; I found much comfort in that.
About eight months after his death, I walked into my bedroom, which used to be his, and was totally overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne. I stopped in my tracks and kept smelling to make sure I wasn't mistaking something else for the scent. Joop cologne has such a distinct smell, that it couldn't have possibly been anything else. I didn't have the cologne around and no one else I know wears it, so it had to be something else. The cologne that I had carried in my purse had long been gone by this point and never had been taken into my bedroom to begin with.
Was this scent a sign from Mike letting me know he's here? It couldn't have been anything else but that. (This "scent" continues to mysteriously *appear* throughout my home occasionally, to this very day.)

"FEELING HIS PRESENCE"
Ten months after Mike?s death, I went to his nephew and Godson Nik's second birthday party at Mike's parent's home. The party took place in the basement.
When I was leaving, I went back upstairs to get my daughter's diaper bag. When I walked through the kitchen and into the family room, I was overwhelmed with this feeling of Mike's presence. It's so hard to explain this feeling; it was nothing I had ever felt or experienced before... the closest thing I can even think of to compare it to, is that feeling that someone is watching you. I looked around but didn't see anything or anyone.
It was such a moving experience that while driving home I kept saying to myself, "Mike was there, he was really there." It was such a strong feeling of his presence that it convinced me he was still with us all.
I had been to his parent's home at least ten times before that day and never felt anything. That one day, I felt the biggest sense of peace in my heart and soul... perhaps that was the *sign* I had been praying for, for so long. My pain began to ease. It was the one thing I finally needed to give me that hope and faith that Mike is still with us.

"MYSTERIOUS TAPE"
When I first met Mike in college in 1991, we began dating. After two years of dating on and off, we decided we would be better off as friends. It was the best decision we had ever made, for in the years that followed, we became the best of friends and closer than ever. Our relationship had never been so good.
Once while we were dating, I recorded a phone conversation we had on a mini-cassette recorder. To this day, I'm still not sure why I did that. Looking back now, I'm thankful I did.
The conversation was of us breaking up (one of many times). Although it was painful at the time, the conversation was still filled with humor. We were young and silly and said so many stupid things to each other. I used to listen to it occasionally just to have a good laugh.
Years later, after we had decided to be just friends, I added a few of his phone messages he had left on my answering machine to this tape. His messages were always so funny that I decided to keep some of them. Once again, I'm glad I did.
Shortly after he died, I wanted to listen to the tape. I wanted to hear his voice again. I had a shoe box, which for years, I kept little sentimental things, such as pictures, cartoons I had cut from newspapers, all my letters and cards from Mike and the mini-cassette of our phone conversation and his phone messages. I always kept the tape there; it never went anywhere else.
To my dismay, the tape was gone! I was so upset. What could have happened to it? I never moved it from the shoe box, except when I listened to it. All my other mini-cassettes were still there, but the one that meant the most had disappeared. I was absolutely devastated. I tore my house apart, desperately trying to find it. It was the only little piece of Mike I had left and now it was gone. Finally, I accepted it was lost. It must have gotten lost in one of my many moves. As disappointed as I was, there was nothing I could do about it.
About a month later, I went into the shoe box to read some of Mike's letters. To my surprise, out of nowhere, that missing tape was there! I know I didn't overlook it the first time I looked because I thoroughly went through every single item in that box. There it sat, right on top of all the other things; I couldn't have missed it.
I thought that perhaps the tape was missing the first time I looked for it because Mike knew I wasn't ready to hear it quite yet. Everything after his death was a new challenge for me. It wasn't until a month after he died that I found the strength to visit the cemetery.
Maybe hearing his voice that soon after his death would have hindered the process of my accepting his death. When I finally found it, I was ready to hear it. I sat and listened to it - I cried, I laughed, I remembered, I cherished. Had I listened to it that month prior, I probably would have just cried. Everything happens for a reason.

"CHIRPING BIRDS"
In 1991, my grandpa had lung cancer and was slowly dying in the hospital for months. We knew he was going to die - there was no saving him. I decided that I would teach myself a song on the piano and sing it at his funeral. The song was "Promise to Try" by Madonna, which she wrote for her mother who died of cancer. I'm not musically inclined, but I went and bought the sheet music anyhow. I would practice day after day, and I would record myself so I could play it back and see where I needed improvement. Mind you, it was the middle of winter when I was practicing and recording this song. Mid-December, my grandpa passed away. I ended up not singing the song at his funeral because I hadn't learned the whole song and didn't feel I was good enough. About a week later, I was listening to the tape of me singing and playing the piano and I was AMAZED because in addition to the piano and my singing on the tape, you could hear hundreds of beautiful birds just chirping away, as they do in the spring. But there were NO BIRDS chirping when I recorded it, as it was the middle of winter. My grandpa LOVED birds, and was always outside feeding them or just watching them. I believe that was his way of letting me know he's still out there.

To be continued...

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