It’s time now. “Do you want me to open the door?”
The rods do not respond to my question. They point to the door that leads to the hallway instead.
“Is there someone over there?”
“Are you pointing?”
I pause for a moment to consider what might be in that direction. “Is it the rabbit?”
“Is it my daughter?”
“Is she safe?”
“Does it have to do with meeting her?”
“Does it have to do with me?”
I search my mind for what she could want, and then I let go. That’s when her sweet, clear voice again fills my mind. I repeat the words she says to me, and the rods respond to each. “Appreciate her.”
“I am sorry.” These words spring forth from my heart because I know that I do not appreciate her enough. I don’t even know how to appreciate her enough. I can’t imagine what Amber must be feeling. I still have time.
“Children are a gift.”
“O.K. I promise, Amber. I promise I will.”
“Is that it?”
“I will stay close. Your family can communicate with you if they ask.”
As I speak, the rods begin to sway back and forth. The movement is frantic and uncontrolled. It’s a rejection. I do not understand why she does not want anyone close to her. The man is gone. Why does she still react so strongly to the idea of communication?
The rods are everywhere.
”Stop… Stop… Stop…”
She continues to react to my statement. She is completely overwhelmed by this suggestion, and I cannot gain her attention.
Finally, I drop the rods into my lap. “Stop!” My statement is firm, and it is final. I will not communicate in this way.
When I raise the rods again, I receive a clear, ‘No.’
“Okay. Amber. I will honor your wishes. Now, it is time.”
I feel her tension growing, and I know that she will find her peace on the other side. I don’t know why she won’t agree to communicate with her family. I guess she must still be afraid of a threat. I know there are questions unanswered between us. There have been moments that are less than clear, but I also know she can return to resolve these questions if they are of any significance. Trying to answer them now will only lead to more circles. Crossing over will help her.
I sense there is still a message. She is concerned about her family. I can feel it.
“Do you want me to tell Monica something?”
“That you’re safe.”
“That you’re at peace and that you’ve passed over.”
“Okay. Why is this so hard for you? Is that everything?”
I don’t think it is, but she’s not ready to resolve it today. The best thing she can do is gain the clarity she’ll get when she let’s go. I want to help her, “I promise, Amber. I’ll tell them you are at peace.”
With that, I feel Amber turn from the rods. She is distraught, but I know this will all pass. So many beings finally mourn the loss of their own life and the story they knew just before they pass through the door. To me, this has always meant they are ready. It is time to let go of the old story and open to the wisdom beyond it.
“IEO, please sign in.”
The rods cross.
“Can you help Amber?”
In my mind, I see IEO approach Amber and begin to guide her away. He is a giant next to her, but his support is gentle. I see them walking into the void, a black emptiness, thick with texture but no definition. There is a door cut out of nothing, directly in front of them toward which they now travel. They do not walk on ground. There is no ‘ground.’. They travel along the expanse of space toward the door. This is what I always see when I help others pass. As I have done with so many before, I assume I will watch her walk through the door and then, after she has gone, the door will close. The light seeping around the outside of the closed door will slowly seal, until there is nothing left but the black emptiness. When it is done, there will not be any evidence of the door or where it could be. The door will simply cease to exist and it will be done. This is how it always happens and beside a few minor variations represented by the individual passing, this, I assume is how it always will be.
Amber turns and looks back at me. Her eyes speak her agony to me.
“I’ll tell her. I promise to tell her. It’s time for you to go.”
She turns again to walk with IEO. A mere moment passes before she breaks free from him and runs back to the room to stand in front of me. I can tell she has so much to say, but I know and I think she does too, there will never be enough words to express her longing for them. I hear her plead in my mind. “You want me to tell Monica to tell your children that you love them. I will. I’ll tell her. I’ll tell them.”
With this, I see her decide there is nothing more she can do. I sense her fear over losing the connection, but I know she will be more connected than ever. The love on the other side of the veil is a global love. It is a universal love and I know she worries she might lose her connection to this individual love for her children, for her family, for her husband. But in the end, she can better serve herself and her family from the other side and deep in the core of her being she knows it.
She rejoins IEO and walks to the door. I see her turn at the last moment to look at me and like the day in the church when Monica walked with her family to begin this telling of Amber’s story, my hand goes to my heart and my heart goes to her. This time I make a fist, grabbing at the pain in my chest. I’ve never felt this kind of personal pain during a passing before. I want to hold my heart and relieve its ache, but I can’t reach it. It is too deep. I wish one more time for the outcome of this story to be anything but the loss of such an angel, but I must accept what is and I know it.
As she turns back to walk through the door, there is a sudden flash of movement. I see a man appear out of nowhere. He is nothing more than a flash, a blur to my senses. He darts at Amber and tackles her at the door. IEO’s large frame blocks most of what is happening in front of him, but he slowly reaches out and closes the door. It seals and is gone.
I jump to my feet, startled out of my peaceful state, by the movement at the door. I have never witnessed anything like it before. I peer into the darkness, looking for Amber, but I cannot see her. I cannot see her or the man. I can only see IEO walking back. His approach is calm, but his head is down. I scream in my head, “Did she pass? Did she pass?”
Calmly he answers. ‘Yes.’
“What was that? What happened? Did she pass?”
I am confused by what has happened. I feel like I am about to lose myself. What happened? I can only guess; maybe something tried to stop her, but it must have been pulled through the door with her. I know anything that passes beyond the door will be healed, so I am not concerned for her safety, but something inside of me prods at me. Something is not right.
I am set off balance by Amber’s passing. I don’t know how to process it. I sit for a few moments at a complete loss for words. My mind is empty and confused. Eventually, in the last moments of the evening, I repeat aloud the words IEO speaks to my heart. “It is complete.”