Adsagsona Paranormal Society Articles

The Afterlife
A Great-granddaughter's Perspective
By Donna L. Marsh

I recently received an e-mail from a woman who raised a very interesting question. If a ghost wants to “go toward the light” then why doesn’t it just ask God for help?

I pondered that question for hours, and while I can’t say for sure that I have the answer, I certainly have a theory.

Perhaps if a person is separated from God in their earthly life they remain separated from him in the afterlife as well, or perhaps they’ve become separated from him after their death. Or maybe they just want to stick around for a while longer. Or, and some will consider this a blasphemous thought at best, what if God doesn’t exist? But, and this is a question more palatable to most than the previous, what if the answer to the question lies somewhere in our own belief in Heaven and the afterlife?

My grandmother used to tell me stories of a Heaven that involved floating around on a cloud in the sky. Basically you just lounged on that cloud all day, playing a harp. I couldn’t understand that picture or where she got it from, so I decided to seek more information directly from the one person I considered the most accurate source – my great-grandmother.

I was only about eight-years-old when I asked “Little Granny” the question, but the conversation that followed is one that I’ve remembered, and fondly, for years. I was spending the day with her, and we were sitting on the back step eating fresh corn on the cob when, as I remember it, I opened our discourse by putting it as any eight-year-old would, “So, Little Granny, when you die and go to Heaven what will it be like?” Well Little Granny, being the wise woman that she was, never missed a beat. She smiled at me with that twinkle in her eye that I still miss today and said, “Why Heaven is nothing more than the place on earth that made you the happiest.” Armed with that answer and believing her whole-heartedly because, after all, she was the one person I knew that had to be closest to dying, I decided then and there that Heaven must surely be a combination toy and candy store. She laughingly urged me to think on it a little more.

Looking back I wondered if my great-grandmother knew exactly what she was talking about and Heaven actually does exist here on earth. I pictured a world coexisting with ours, a world most of us aren’t privileged to see, hear or experience, a world only a special few know exists. I imagined sitting here at my desk with my loved ones milling around me, invisible and unbeknownst to me but very present all the same. I imagined Little Granny watching me with that twinkle in her eye and telling me to keep thinking on it.

So I thought some more.

According to her son, my grandfather, Little Granny had the gift of “sight.” It appears that I’ve inherited this gift, although not nearly to the degree that she had it. I don’t “see dead people,” but somehow I just know they are there and I can communicate with them.

I don’t always encounter spirits in haunted houses, cemeteries or anyplace like that. In fact, I most often come in contact with spirits as they are attached to people, such as family, friends, co-workers, etc. For instance, whenever I’m around a female acquaintance I sense an older male presence attached to her. I finally asked her about her grandfather once, and she told me that he had passed away a few years ago, saying they had been especially close. When I asked her if he had called her Princess, she nearly fell out of her chair. “How did you know that?” she demanded to know.

How did I? I’ve never been able to explain that one to myself, so I certainly don’t have any idea how to explain it to another.

I don’t know actually see the spirits, but I know they are there just as a blind person knows when someone is next to them. And I don’t actually hear what they’re saying to me. I just sort of feel it, and I believe it. And sometimes they just make their presence known.

I always adored Kenny, thinking of him as more of an older brother than a mere first cousin. Shortly before my birthday in 1976 I began having dreams that Kenny was dead. Sadly, those dreams came true just a few days after I turned 13. Kenny, at the young age of 17, was killed in an automobile accident.

While Kenny is gone from earth, I doubt he’s very far away. For one thing, I see him every time my older son smiles. But more importantly, I believe that he recently saved my life.

I was driving to work a few weeks ago, lost in thought after just dropping my son off at school, when this deep, male voice shouted from the back seat, “Watch out, Squirt!” Startled, I slammed on my brakes, narrowly missing the car that had suddenly pulled out in front of me from a side street. After my car came to a skidding halt, I turned to peer into the back seat. Who could have said that? How did he get into my car without my knowledge? The back seat was empty.

Shaking and asking myself questions the entire time, I continued the drive to work. Did I really hear someone say that? Why did that voice sound so familiar? Who could it have been? Who called me Squirt?

I may not have heard that voice in 25 years, but I remembered it then.

I was a prissy little thing growing up, and I very much preferred being called by my given name. Knowing how much a nickname irked me, Kenny always called me either Squirt or Munchkin because of my small stature. Kenny was the man in the back seat. He had just saved my life.

And that brings me back to the original question. So if a spirit is stuck on earth, why don’t they just ask God for help?

I believe in different planes of existence. We live on one, and the spirits of those that have gone before us live on another, remaining close to their loved ones if they desire. They don’t ask God for help because they aren’t “stuck” on earth. They’re here by choice because being near family is their idea of Heaven. Sometimes they cross that plane and make their presence felt, and sometimes a few very lucky people get to interact with them for just a moment.

As I sit here writing this, I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. It’s big and strong, so I guess that Kenny’s here with me now. Thank you, Kenny, for thinking of me as a part of your Heaven. And thank you, Little Granny, for the gift of “sight” and for giving me such wise words to think on so many years ago.

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