By Twyla

During my time out, a very dear friend who was terminally ill, introduced me to the works of Dannion Brinkley. In the last months of her life, she had been reading anything she could find on the transition to the other side. We had even booked an evening seminar to hear Dannion speak, but on the night of the seminar, she had been too ill to leave her bed. I chose at that time, not to go. I had no idea who this man was, or what his seminar would include. When Dannion came to Toronto on his next visit, I was still looking for a reason for all the pain and sorrow. I also still had a great desire to know what Vikki's last thoughts were. Why had she so wanted to meet this man? In an attempt to find some answers, I read his book, but I still wished to know more.

Since that first meeting, in February 1996, I have had the pleasure of spending many hours with Dannion, and his message is simple - No one should die alone. No one.

To the lightworkers of the world I say this: I challenge you to put your compassion into action. I challenge you to discover the meaning of unconditional love. For someone who has been trapped in a body that no longer functions; for someone who has spent long lonely years in a room with few or no visitors; for someone who stands on the precipice of absolute fear - for there is no option left now but death and judgement - I challenge you to reach into yourself and realize that the old adage, "There, but by the Grace of God, go I," was translated incorrectly... it actually reads: "There by the Grace of God ~ AM I"

I have held the hand of a much-beloved woman who, at the age of 99, was so fear-filled that she could not allow herself to leave. It did not take me long to fall in love with this dear soul. We would walk often in her garden, for she could no longer find mine. I would join her at her porch door on a sunny afternoon, and share the aroma of her freshly baked apple pies and bread. Together, we would hold the baby chicks in our hands, and we would giggle with delight when we remembered the day her galoshes melted by the wood stove. And as she looks over my shoulder now, we remember the day that she asked me who had sent me to her. I remember looking into her eyes, mine filling, hers questioning, and speaking the words, "God sent me". I can still see her digest this fact, and I can still feel the emotions I had when she said, "Yes, I believe He did."

It was then that my beloved friend told me that she had great fear of not having been good enough in her life. She felt she could have done it better. She was sure she was not acceptable to God, and if she'd had a chance to do it again, she would have done it better. My heart was crying, and the tears fell from my eyes, just as they do now at the re-membering of the beauty of her transition from fear to love. For upon hearing the words of love and acceptance... for upon re-membering that a child must touch a hot stove to know the meaning of the word hot... for upon re-membering the gentle words, "God is Love" ~ the transition happened. Her body softened, her eyes lost the terror, and a smile came upon her.

We had many days left to us. Never again did she feel that terror of the unknown. How do I know? I was there. Her daughter began visiting daily, and I was there at least twice a week. I was thrilled to be invited to her 100th birthday party, for I had a special gift.

Many were the conversations we had concerning the merits of pies. The most serious of which was, which pie was my favorite? To my beloved friend's greatest delight, my first answer was, "Apple! Of course!" This was indeed her favorite, too. However, she did concede that Lemon Meringue was a very tempting choice. I can still re-member the look on her face when I brought her gift to her. A freshly baked, still warm and aromatic, apple pie. The delight was plain to see, and I AM humbled still, by the simplicity of love.

So, fellow workers in the light, my cup runneth over, and it is my greatest joy to report to you that to die with someone is an honor indeed. I fully understand Dannion's remark: "You will find that when you do hospice work, and you hear another beloved one has gone home, you will stop, and close your eyes, and smile. It is so." For indeed, this is exactly what happens when I hear these stories. Another party in heaven.

I close with this thought. To learn how to love unconditionally is to first be loved unconditionally. This lesson is so easily learned from those who have no-thing to give you but love. If you wish to be closer to Spirit, to be where Spirit is - either coming or leaving - choose to be with those being born or with those going home, for no where else on Earth is the Veil as thin. I have seen with the eyes of Spirit en-joining my own, and I know it is so.

One of our Joint Section Editors for Beyond the Veil, Twyla's transition theme is volunteer work. Her choice of venue is a nursing home.