this is personal ...

and chapter one of "and then the stars spoke ..."

Greetings fellow travellers,

This project was created in 2017 on the heels of two deaths of precious family members. Living in NZ I had seen death done more intimately— the dying and the aftermath—and that empowered us to take that approach with my brother in the US and my mother who was in NZ with us.. After witnessing that beauty and power I was keen to hear and share others’ stories and let others see that they had a choice. Most always, in my interview, I’d ask, have you ever felt you’ve had contact with your loved one after death? at the end of our chat if it hadn’t come up.

In my many interviews, I cannot recall one person who hadn’t felt they had some contact from the otherside. Since I too had such experiences, beginning with my father’s death in 1982 (I write about this in the first chapter of “and then the starts spoke” that I share below) and had heard stories of contact and near death experiences decades ago in nursing— I wanted to get “everything death” out of the closet. After having my health lag this past year, I’m blown away at how that genre is exploding. (sound the celebration for increased death literacy).

It would be fair to say we raised our now adult kids to be curious and open-minded.

During much of the project we continued to experience rapid fire deaths and tightrope walks of loved ones and that hasn’t stopped— as well as me and my husband both experiencing medical crises. Many of you can relate.

If dealing with all that wasn’t enough, one thing I only shared with folks I was very close to was the ongoing anticipatory grief the fourish years my son travelled the US rough. There were close calls. During his travels we had amazing hours-long phone conversations where he was very open; we’ve always connected on the words front.

He’s a writer, poet, and has a gift for acting. His story hovered at the backdrop of my tender heart while already being body-slammed by death. I’m sure many of you can relate to having a grown child who’s going a direction that we fear may be a treacherous choice.

He’d given me permission to share his story for years but I just didn’t have the ability; instead I looked forward to him sharing when he was ready. Although it was part of my story, it wasn’t my story to tell.

Today, it brings pleasure to share that he made it through by the skin of his teeth, unlike many of his tribe, including his closest travel-mate which guts us all.

Keegan was just visiting us in NZ (was lovely) and he wanted us to watch Beautiful Boy as he’d never seen it.

After the viewing I could tell he was struck: smart, lovely, adored kid who came from a loving home, eventually taken hostage by his choices which summoned the Big Man: addiction. Having read the books that inspired the movie, his wheels seemed to be turning and during our time together he decided he might just put his other writing projects on hold and dive into compiling his story from his time on the road.

Another impetus that greased the writing his traveller story gears was that he was awaiting for his episode where he shared a bit of his stories on the Otherworld Podcast to air his hair-raising story, which was overwhelmingly received and validated the choice to get more of his story on paper. (Part one of his Otherworld Podcast was published two days after he returned home)

I’d like to introduce you to my son, Keegan. Clean, sober and walking the recovery walk for over 1.5 years, working full time helping others: doing it all, one day a time. I’m thrilled that he is bringing his experience into the light. Here is Keegan’s new Substack. I hope you subscribe and follow his writing— it would mean so much to him.

It might be helpful to first listen to his podcast episodes he discussed with host, Jack Wagner, on Otherworld Podcast— part 1 and 2, episode 78 and 79. Also available wherever you listen to your podcasts.

I think most of you drawn to the work of this page will likely find Keegan’s story very interesting, troubling, yet triumphant. You would probably be fascinated by following the podcast; my kids got me into it a while back and I appreciate the content.

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As discussed in my last letter where I printed the forward to my unpublished book, and then the stars spoke, today I’m dropping (very brief) “Chapter 1”, below.

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the visit

Bolting upright from a deep sleep, 3 a.m. glowing red at me from my bedside alarm clock, I’ve been awakened by a noise. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

Surprisingly, I’m not overwhelmed by fear. I arise and cautiously open the door of my antiquated trailer to find my father there, with a gentle look on his face, a hint of a grin, and an uncharacteristic tenderness in his eyes as he gazes up at me. 

There are no words. 

He steps up the squeaky metal stairs and stands before me, dressed in his signature faded Fruit of the Loom pocket T-shirt and worn Dickie work pants. 

We stand and look at each other for just a moment before he gently pulls me into an embrace. I feel the pressure of his arms wrapping around me, the warmth of his body, his chest pressing against mine. 

The connection provides an overwhelming sensation of care and security—something I’d never before experienced from him. 

A warmth flows through my body. A sense of telepathic communication in action. I feel him expressing an all-encompassing love and deep apology for his actions. This sensation seems to ooze into every part of my being; it has a magical, visceral quality. I let myself relax, exhale, feel into the embrace.

The year is 1983. I’m 22 years old. And my father has recently died.

Suddenly I’m wide awake and sit up in bed, still feeling the warmth and pressure of my father’s body pressing against mine. My first thought, That was real, and no one can tell me it wasn’t.

Song: “May I Have This Dance” by Meadowlark

(as mentioned before, a song that felt meaningful was chosen for the end of every chapter)

Please, if you’ve had any stories of connection, feel free to drop them in the comments. People sometimes hold them tight, concerned about what folks will think. This is a safe place…

All love until next time.

Becky

Right now I’m camping here in Towanda. Keegan and I were last here together.