I found it hard to accept that anything became so intolerable to want to leave permanently as he did. My mom didn’t try to offer any explanation as there probably wasn’t a good one or at least not one that occurred to us. I can’t remember when it was, a day or two days after I learned of his death that I had the most incredible, beautiful, memorable dream.  John appeared to me smiling that devilish grin of his with deep brown eyes twinkling at me. You would think I would have so many questions to ask but the only one I could utter in my dream was, “Where do you go?” He told me it could not be for long but he could give me a brief look at where he goes when he isn’t visiting our Earth, his former home.

Instantly, what seemed like 3 seconds in my dream, we were in a space with no walls. There was white everywhere. Not like the white of white copy paper. This was white light. It was bright. Everything was different white. I could see shapes of white on white, different “shades” of white on white. There was so much beauty I could not take it all in. The thing I remember most was the feeling. There I stood, feeling immersed in love.

Touch something near you while you are reading this. Your leg, desk, device. Feel it in your hand. Feel the size, the texture, notice whether it is smooth or rough. THAT is how the love felt so strongly where we were that I could feel it just like I can feel these keys under my fingers only it was inside every single cell of my body. Tangible Love is the only way I can describe it.

Now scientists can see to the center of atoms and everything is energy. That is probably what I saw. Energy.

I am not concerned about when I pass now. I haven’t been since that moment. Now, when I think of the inevitable, I think of things I want to do and see without this mortal, easily damaged, limited physical body. I want to see the Mariana Trench. I want to surf from star to star on our spiral galaxy and take a wild ride! What treasures lie beyond our plane of existence. Mind you, I’m not planning to hasten the day, but I do not fear it.

Thank you, John.