Chapter Two:
My Journey Begins

May the God of hope fill you with
all the joy and peace in believing,
so that you will abound in hope...
- Romans 15:13

AFTER LOSING KIM, I was afraid to live. I didn't know how I could survive without her; yet I was afraid to die because my other two daughters needed me.

The panic attacks kept me confined to the house. These attacks were a whole new experience for me. I didn't understand them. They made it extremely difficult for me to enter a store. Before going out, I would make a detailed list of all the items I required. Sometimes I was able to purchase what I wanted, but more often I would be in the middle of an aisle and suddenly feel a compulsion to leave. My heart pounding, I'd have a hard time catching my breath. When this happened I desperately needed to return to the sanctuary of my home.

When I was out of the house, I couldn't bear to see all the happy people. I was quick to notice that life for others didn't stop just because I had lost Kim. It was unbearably painful for me to face the reality that their lives went on without skipping a beat. Only our lives were forever changed.

I felt like the entire world should be thunderously changed just as our world had been. How could life go on as if catastrophe had not struck? Nothing made sense any more, including the unpredictable onset of these panic attacks, which would hit without warning. Sometimes I didn't even answer the door. At the time, I wasn't aware of what was happening to me. Thanks to counseling, I eventually came to understand more about these sudden and debilitating attacks.

It felt as if time stood still. When you're in the grip of such pain, the mind seems to shut down.

* * * * *

FEBRUARY 1999. Early in the month I sat myself down in front of our computer. I had, of course, worked with word processing programs to type letters and such, but now I was venturing into the world of the Internet. What especially excited me was finding a website listed in the back of John Edward's book.

It was thanks to Kim that I was even able to go online. Kim, as a business student, had routinely carried her own laptop computer and, with her connections to Microsoft, often laughed and teased us to "get with the program" and get hooked up with an Internet service provider. Because our computer was an older model, it wasn't ready for Internet usage. Besides, the Internet was not something Doug and I ever felt we needed. But because of Kim's insistence, we had taken our computer to a local company to see what it required in order for us to go online. The date was October 23. We arranged to pick up our upgraded computer at 6:00 p.m. on October 27, only a few hours before Kim's accident.

While we were driving home with the computer, my feelings of heaviness began. I remember I snapped at Doug, and he asked me what was wrong. I responded that I wasn't feeling well and just wanted to get home. By the time we arrived home, I was feeling very ill. Neither of us knew that in the next few hours our safe, ordered world would disappear forever.

Now, four months later, I realized that were it not for Kim's insistence, I would not be sitting in front of the computer, surfing the web, looking at John Edward's website, and reading about what to expect during a reading. Posted on this website were comments by people who had read his book One Last Time. I spent several minutes poring over their thoughts about his book.

Then I saw it. Wow! An email address was staring back at me. Was I brave enough to actually send an email to him? I worried about being disappointed if Kim did not come through during any reading I might have. My concern was so great that I could not bring myself to send an email and make contact. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was still so rocked by grief that I simply could not think anything through in a logical manner. I was confused and felt utterly alone. I would have to decide what to do - later.

In the meantime, while on John Edward's website, I went onto a chat line for the first time in my life. I followed the instructions, hesitated for a moment when they asked me for my name, then typed in the fake name "Holly."I did not feel comfortable using my own name, and the name Holly just popped into my head. I figured it was as good as any.

So there I was being welcomed into this chatroom as Holly. I sat back quietly at first, reading the dialogue that was taking place. I quickly became aware I had a strong desire to actively participate in the discussion. I began to ask questions about some of the spiritual concepts I had read about. These strangers from different parts of the world were patient with me as I asked my questions. I was told that this was a place where people come together to share their spiritual beliefs as well as their feelings of grief after suffering the loss of a loved one. We were all there to help each other.

I could have listened for hours to these wonderful strangers. Some were still searching for answers, while others, already believers in the afterlife, imparted both their wisdom and their sympathy. Eventually, as heartening as it was, I became emotionally drained, said goodbye, and signed myself off, promising to return. Afterward I reflected on the experience. Blessedly, I had found a place where I felt comfortable and could ask questions from the privacy of my own home - the safest of all venues in which to continue my search.

During subsequent visits to the website chatroom, I met and talked with other bereaved parents. They talked about their deceased children, sharing the events that had charted their own routes to spiritual awakening. I read their comments and listened quietly with tears streaming down my cheeks.

Finally, I no longer felt so alone. I began typing. I had so much to say, but I'm not sure I made a lot of sense. I began to describe for this group of strangers my sudden and tragic loss of Kim. I took a leap of faith and revealed the feeling of dread I experienced before being informed about the accident and how this was a catalyst for my spiritual quest. Responses came flooding back. They understood exactly what I was saying, since many of them had experienced similar premonitions before their children had passed.

* * *

Through my tears I asked, "Could Kim have known she was going to die?" A consensus came back to me. "Yes, her soul knew." This was an emotional experience for me. I was completely exhausted and needed to think about everything I had just learned. I signed off and went to bed, but it was hours later before I fell asleep.

I was surprised and thrilled that bereaved parents from all over the world were using the Internet to connect with each other. Now I was a part of that group. Talking on the Internet to people who believed in an afterlife, and the connection we can have to it, brought me a great sense of calmness and some much-needed peace. I was able to share the pain of losing Kim and the extreme anger I felt about the accident. This wonderful band of so-called strangers validated my sense of loss, my horrid feelings. They opened me up to the idea that Kim was still very much around me. When I cried, which seemed constant, my newfound Internet friends comforted me.

I spent hours - probably too many hours - listening and conversing with my new chatroom buddies. I continued to use the pseudonym of Holly when I signed on and was happy with my new identity. As I continued to listen to their stories of loss and their own spiritual awakenings, I realized I had an urgent need to believe, with confidence, that Kim still existed "somewhere" even if she couldn't be with us physically.

All my alone time was spent either on the Internet or reading something of a spiritual nature. The chatroom I used most often was linked to the John Edward web page, but it was actually a site set up by Bill and Judy Guggenheim, authors of Hello From Heaven.

When I first saw the book title on their website, I felt I should read it. I found the book to be filled with a series of firsthand accounts from people who believed a deceased loved one had contacted them. These contacts were called ADCs by the authors, short for "After-Death Communications."

Bill and Judy Guggenheim had interviewed 2,000 people from across the United States and Canada and published a variety of these true accounts in their book. I loved reading about how others were able to sense, feel, smell, and sometimes receive physical signs from their deceased loved ones. As other bereaved parents described details of their personal ADCs, I desperately wanted at least one of my own.

The advantage of a chatroom is your ability to ask questions. When I finished reading Hello From Heaven, I went online to find the site extra busy that evening. How, I wanted to know, does someone open to signs from those we love who are on the other side? I really opened up a door to a major discussion when I asked if anyone logged on that night had experienced an ADC after the loss of his or her loved one. I wondered if Kim had given me a sign and, blind with grief, I had missed it.

I started by asking Kim to give me a sign I could understand.

According to Judy and Bill Guggenheim's website, signs from the other side or ADCs are spontaneous and direct communications that may occur anytime and anywhere, but no third parties such as psychics, mediums, or hypnotists are involved.

Based upon their research, the most frequent types of after-death communication people report having with their deceased loved ones are sensing a presence, hearing a voice, feeling a touch, smelling a fragrance, visual experiences and visions, and electronic communication that can include telephone calls and/or physical phenomena like electric lights and appliances being turned on and off. Symbolic ADCs include the meaningful appearance of butterflies, rainbows, birds, animals, flowers, and a variety of inanimate objects such as coins and pictures.

According to the Guggenheims' research, the purpose of these visits and signs by those who have died is to offer comfort, reassurance, and hope to their loved ones. According to the authors, ADCs confirm that "life and love are eternal."

I wanted my own personal confirmation from Kim.

I had heard that pets sometimes give us signs when our loved ones are around. Kim had dearly loved our dog Buddy whom we had gotten as a pup 14 years earlier. I started watching Buddy to see if there was any significant shift in his behavior at various times. While Kim had been away at school the last three years, Buddy had avoided her room except when she was home. He had gotten out of the habit of sleeping on Kim's bed and instead would join one of the other girls who was home.

Strangely, since Kim's passing, I had noticed how often he tried to get into her bedroom. Was it really possible that Buddy could see Kim or feel her presence? I watched him look past me sometimes and wondered. At times Buddy seemed to be "licking the air," yet according to the naked eye, no one was there.

I walked around the house talking incessantly to Kim. Since I had not yet returned to work and was accustomed to spending my days home alone, I was free to look for signs from Kim. Every time a light flickered, I would look around and wonder if Kim was responsible. If the phone would ring and no one appeared to be on the other end of the line, I felt this could be my sign. I sometimes thought I might drive myself insane. Every time I got discouraged, each time my doubting mind intervened, I would remember that others had received messages of love from their children on the other side.

I deserved one of my own.

I was constantly being challenged through the books I was reading to re-examine my past beliefs. Could I free myself from my old belief system? I realized our belief systems create the way we see the world. Mine, like most people's, was deeply rooted, created by past relationships and experiences. Although I was discovering it was not an easy task to free myself from these old agnostic beliefs, I strongly felt I must. Because past views no longer fit, I made the conscious choice to remain open to new concepts and ideas. Kim's passing demanded a new way of looking at life. My conscious choice to remain open brought with it a new feeling of hope.

It was the middle of February when an astonishing occurrence took place that led me to believe Kim may have given me her first sign, or at least the first sign I recognized. I was on the Internet with one of my new friends, Abby, a bereaved parent herself. She told me I could create a memorial in honor of Kim and have it posted on a web page for people to visit. I was such an Internet novice and my grief was still so intense that I felt overwhelmed by the notion of doing this. How would I ever adequately describe the person Kim was? I wondered what kind of things others included in their memorials and felt the urge to have a look at some. Abby was happy to direct me to one of these sites.

This particular site was set up alphabetically. One could click on any letter in the alphabet and a series of names would appear. I recall feeling shocked and saddened at how many memorials were listed at this one site alone. Looking at the letters highlighted on the web page, without giving it a second thought, I automatically went to the "W" and scanned the list for girls' names. I followed the instructions and instantly was staring at a memorial for a young lady named Kandi Willis Webb. As I quickly scanned the memorial, I was stunned by what I read. I couldn't breathe as I stared at the dates before my eyes. This young lady was born on March 15, 1967, and died on October 27, 1988.

My mind raced and I recall thinking, this is not possible! Kim was born on March 15, 1976, and died on October 27, 1998. Although the birth and death years were different, dates for the month and day were identical!

I sat mesmerized, staring at the computer screen. My mind tried to comprehend what I was looking at. I must have re-read those dates at least a hundred times. One date coinciding exactly with Kim's could be a coincidence, my logical mind told me, but both of the dates? Suddenly I realized another fact. Both Kim and Kandi had the same initials. They were both "K.W." This fact was not nearly as significant as the corresponding dates, but it sent my mind reeling once again.

One of my first thoughts after staring at this memorial was how would I be able to find out more about Kandi? Could I contact her mom? Would she want to hear from me? After all, Kandi had passed in 1988, almost 11 years earlier. Nowhere on this memorial was there a contact number or even an email address to write to her family. I just kept staring at those dates, my mind unable to embrace this as a mere coincidence. Afraid I might not remember how to find this memorial again, I decided to print it out and put it away for safekeeping. I was determined that someday I would find a way to make a connection with Kandi's mom.

Even in this early stage of my spiritual journey, I realized this had to be more than just a coincidence. Winning the lottery was more probable than my randomly clicking on the name of a girl with identical birth and death dates and initials to Kim. I marveled at the fact that I had chosen to open this particular memorial first - out of the hundreds that were listed. Maybe I was guided to open it up. Maybe Kim had her hand in this. Well, if Kim helped me to do this, then I would place my faith in the fact that one day Kim would help me find a way to connect to Kandi's family.

This was just the first of a string of mystifying events that I now call "my miracles." By definition, miracles are events that occur in ways contrary to what we would expect based on our own experiences and are inexplicable using the known laws of nature. Miracles were the perfect description of the experiences that were beginning to happen around me. Yet it wasn't until over a year later, through another miraculous event, that I had my first contact with Kandi's mom, Sharon.

Toward the end of February, Doug and I decided to contact Bereaved Families of Ontario. As important as my spiritual quest had become, we as a couple needed to share our feelings with others who were grieving the loss of a child. The closest office was about a half-hour away. We arranged a meeting with a husband and wife who volunteered their time to help the newly bereaved. They also had lost their daughter, some years earlier. We shared our mutual losses, talked about our girls, and Doug and I learned a little about the organization.

I urgently needed to spend time with other parents who had lost a child. They were the only ones who could understand the depth of our loss. I reasoned, if I was able to reason at all, that I would not have to act "normal" with them but could display my feelings and tears honestly. Toward the end of the meeting, we were informed that all the groups for bereaved parents had already begun but they would put our names on the list for the next group that would start. Disappointed and heartbroken, we went home to wait for their call.

In the meantime, I became aware that it was necessary for me to seek professional help to cope with Kim's death. I missed Kim so desperately that some days I thought I would not survive the pain. It was a deep, physical ache that debilitated me. I needed to scream and yell. My husband and daughters had their own grief to deal with. But I needed to deal with mine, so I set up an appointment with a local psychiatrist. After the first few visits, I felt comfortable enough with him to talk about the spiritual journey I had begun.

When I came for my first appointment, I met the psychiatrist's wife, Bonnie, who helped run the office for him and scheduled his appointments. This lovely and very spiritual lady entered my life just at the point when I was wondering what other avenues I might take to further my spiritual journey. I felt an instant connection to Bonnie, as if I had known her for years. She later shared, as we became friends, that she felt the same immediate connection. Was it a coincidence that I met Bonnie when I did or was it pre-destined? Bonnie and I talked about this over coffee more than once as we got to know each other better.

It was the end of February when Bonnie suggested I make an appointment with a spiritual healer she knew. Her name was Shawna Ross. I wasn't even sure what a spiritual healer did. My spiritual knowledge consisted mostly of what I had read and what others had expressed to me in the chatrooms. Bonnie and I talked about what I could expect. It sounded pretty bizarre to me, but I knew I needed healing - any kind of healing. I agreed to make an appointment.

It was the last day of February when I found myself sitting in a pleasant room with a couch on one side and what looked like a type of massage table on the other. Some crystals lay on a shelf, and the room was filled with the heady smell of incense. Shawna and I talked for a few minutes as she helped make me feel comfortable. She knew I had lost my daughter because I had told her when I made the appointment. As she talked and I tried to comprehend what Shawna was explaining to me, I noticed that her eyes seemed to stare past me and around me. When I asked her about this, she quietly responded, "I am looking at your energy field, and it appears to be very greatly depleted." She reported she would work on that first. She said something about an aura around me and energy points called "chakras." Since I had no previous exposure to these terms, none of it really registered with me at the time.

I stood like a puppet in front of her as she worked on me. I didn't have the strength to question what she was doing. I just let it happen. During my two-and-a-half-hour session, Shawna used a few different healing methods on me, explaining the significance of each as she went along.

While she worked on me, she delivered a message from one of my spiritual guides and shocked me with the information that the guide's name was Holly - the alias I used in the chatroom! The healer said my guide was telling her I had the ability to put one foot into the spirit world and keep one foot here on planet earth if I chose to. I thought that was interesting but wondered what it meant. All I really wanted to do was connect to Kim in whatever way I could. Since I didn't know about spirit guides at this point, I decided to read up on this subject when I got home.

I tried very hard to stay focused on what Shawna explained to me during the healing. The experience was moving and cathartic, and I shed many tears that morning. Then, almost in a whisper, Shawna revealed the presence of a young woman who wore her hair in a ponytail. "She is in the room with us."

As she continued her healing, in a quiet voice Shawna described Kim bouncing up and down on a bed. "Her legs are crossed because she wants me to hurry up. She says she can't wait all day to talk to you."

I stared at her, dumbfounded. That was so much like Kim! She remarked that Kim was throwing colors at me to try to speed up the process. Again, I smiled through my tears.

It was her description of Kim hopping off the bed and doing a little dance that really got my tears and laughter flowing. Suddenly, she halted the healing and fixed her eyes to my left. She described a special, unique dance move, one that only Kim was known to do, a movement Kim's family and friends had always teased her about. Somehow, the dance got labeled the "running man," no doubt from the ridiculous way Kim flailed her legs and arms around when she was doing it.

This was Kim for sure!

How could she possibly know this unless Kim really was there? I wondered if Shawna could see her. I instantly swiveled around to look where she was gazing, but I could not see Kim, only an empty room behind me. Turning back to Shawna, tears streaming down my cheeks, I stared at her. She then lifted one arm and flipped her hand: "Poof, and now she is gone."

Shawna reassured me that Kim was not far away. She continued the healing session for another hour or so. At the conclusion of the morning, Shawna took the time to explain the benefits of spiritual healing.

She explained to me that spiritual healing works on mind, body, and spirit. Healers believe that in order to maintain good health, all of these must work in harmony. Understanding more about this mind, body, and spirit balance helps one to be more receptive to the unseen energy around us. Shawna emphasized the importance of people taking responsibility for their own healing and that energy work can be a catalyst to be able to feel and sense those on the other side.

My mind raced as I drove home. I didn't understand much of what happened to me that morning, but I tried to absorb what I did understand. I was anxious to arrive home so I could write down all that happened. I urgently needed to get in touch with Bonnie, my spiritual confidant.

When I got home, I immediately locked myself in my bedroom and meticulously recorded all the information I could remember and the messages I received from Kim and my guide, Holly. Because I was such an emotional mess at this time, I felt it was essential to record everything I experienced as soon as possible. I didn't want to risk forgetting even the smallest detail. The healing session that morning and the messages I received had planted a significant seed of hope that Kim still existed, that we could still communicate, and that all was not lost after all. This glorious hope began to grow within my darkest despair.

Once I finished writing, I ran to the phone to call Bonnie. I had to know if she had told Shawna any details about Kim. I still didn't know Bonnie all that well and wondered if she would do that. The skeptic in me was creeping in. I wanted to ask her what, if anything, she had told Shawna. I wanted to feel confident that the information relayed to me was authentically coming from Kim.

In retrospect, I realize I really wasn't thinking clearly because there actually was no way Bonnie could know those things about Kim - or the significance of the name Holly. I had never told her any of the details.

Bonnie and I met over coffee that afternoon and discussed my healing session. She reassured me she had merely set up the appointment and had not told her friend anything about Kim, my loss, or me. With this out of the way, she encouraged me to relate the events that had taken place in the healing room that morning.

Over time our friendship grew, and Bonnie, with her quiet wisdom and virtuous nature, became one of my confidants and a mentor. I learned I could trust that whatever I said to Bonnie would remain confidential between the two of us.

I had come to a place in my spiritual journey where I sensed it was essential to surround myself with people who had a true belief in the existence of "the other side." Bonnie was one of these people. She would listen quietly as I poured out my feelings of loss and pain and then, in my calmer moments, discuss with me some new spiritual concept I was trying to understand. Because Bonnie played an intrinsic part in my awakening to the spiritual beliefs I presently hold, she will always remain one of my dearest friends.

By this point, I felt it was time to share with Doug what had happened at Shawna's. I was timid and a bit nervous about telling him I went to a healer. I wasn't sure about it myself, so how could I expect Doug to understand? Sitting down together that evening, I eased into the topic and finally described the experience.

Doug definitely had his reservations and openly expressed his opinion that maybe I had made more out of the messages than they merited. How could I blame him? I would have thought the same thing. But I knew deep within my soul that it had really happened. Kim had, almost certainly, made contact with me.

©2005-2006, by Sandy Wiltshire
Excerpt from My Gift of Light: A Bereaved Mother’s Loving Pilgrimage from Skeptic to Psychic Medium written by Sandy Wiltshire and published by Quality of Life Publishing Co. Available through Amazon.com and at your local bookstore. Copyright 2005-2006 Sandy Wiltshire; all rights reserved. Reprinted with permission.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Sandy Wiltshire is a wife, mother of three girls, and former elementary schoolteacher. Prior to the death of her oldest daughter Kim in a car accident caused by a reckless driver, Sandy was an agnostic with no particular interest nor belief in spiritual or religious matters.

Kim's tragic death was the catalyst for Sandy's transformation from an average suburban housewife and schoolteacher to a deeply spiritual woman. Her own psychic medium abilities began to blossom as part of her transformation.

Since 2001, Sandy's full-time career as a psychic medium involves giving private readings in her home. Her life purpose is helping the bereaved contact their deceased loved ones. Her special mission is connecting bereaved parents with their children who have died, which she has successfully done thousands of times over the years.

Sandy wrote My Gift of Light in order to bring hope and assurance of life after death to a greater number of people than she can personally meet with one-on-one. She lives in a small town in Ontario with her husband Doug and her daughters Kerry and Kristy. She is in frequent direct contact with her daughter Kim on the other side.

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