Editor: Sonya Marvel
Contributors: All Members of My Mom Is A Survivor
The responses to this subject have been so vast, that we had to begin page four. Please continue to read, because you may identify with any and all of these *visits*.
Hello, I'm writing in regards to a dream I had about a month after losing my first baby girl back in June of 97. Britney Hope Lyell is her name and I miss and love her to the very depth of my soul. There isn't a day that passes that I don't think about her and it really hurts to see others, I feel, who don't bring up her name in everyday conversations. Are these people who were her family, including my husband, putting her in the back of their minds...do they not think of her as often as I do??? You know all the thoughts that goes through a mothers mind....sometimes makes you feel totally CRAZY! Anyway back to the dream....Britney was born May 10 of 97 and passed on June 16 of 97. She had neuroblastoma which is a childhood cancer. We had her at home for nine days before we learned of her sickness. On the ninth day we rushed to Memphis TN so she would be in the best hands possible at St.Jude CRH. The day Britney died was the last day I laid my eyes on my precious baby. We had chosen to keep her casket closed for her funeral. When we went to pick out everything for her funeral I took a bag consisting of a beenie baby, clown rattle, security blanket (given by a St.Jude staff worker) and a billfold picture of her me and my husband. Never did I see her at the funeral home which is a very big regret of mine. If only I had chosen to see her one more time. The last time I saw her after she had passed at St Jude just wasn't enough. I just thought that it would make it harder than it already was. Anyway we had her casket closed with some pictures beside her on a table.
In this dream I had Britney came to me floating over the foot of my bed. As I looked up to see her (was actually sitting up in the bed when I awoke from the dream) there she was in the white outfit I had sent to the funeral home that I never saw her in. She had all the toys and blanket floating around her, when we made eye contact she gave me the sweetest smile I had ever seen. I started talking in my sleep telling my husband "lookie there. She is smiling at us letting us know that she is ok". Then I woke up. That is my first and last dream of her. I can't tell you how many nights I've gone to sleep with her on my mind just so I will dream about her and haven't since that first dream. I've always
heard that when we all die and go to heaven we will know our loved ones not by their appearance by the smile on their faces. My how I cant wait to see the last beautiful smile Britney gave me in my dream.
Thanks for giving me your time,
Melanie Lyell, Fayetteville,TN.
Mom to Britney Hope Lyell
1 - My son was killed in December and his site is in Michigan. Just after we buried him my dh and I were at his site and were having a tough time. It was a sunny day and no clouds or such, but as we were standing there, a couple of snow flakes started to come down, only about 10-20, and only on us. I looked up and said, "It's snowing" and it stopped. No where else did any snow fall that day. We believe he was sending us a message that he is okay and we need to be also.
2 - We were still in Michigan before my son's services and one night I dreamed that Joey (my son) came back to life. I was yelling "How can it be that you are alive, You were shot in the heart!" Joey just came and sat in my lap and gave me a kiss. The next day, I told my husband that and he said, that is because you will see him again one day.
3 - Just before Christmas, and just after my son's services, my husband and I got tattoos in memory of my son. My husband got what looks like military dog tags (popular in Marine Corps) with my husband's information and one with my son's information Around seven months since my son was killed I learned that I was pregnant. I was devastated because I never wanted to risk being hurt again, and felt like I was betraying my son. I felt afraid he would be mad at me. I told my husband I was pregnant, and was crying and very upset. My husband was happy and trying to console me. About that time the tattoo that he has with Joey's information in it raised just, it felt just like when a tattoo is brand new. It stayed that way for the evening, and the next morning it was smooth and normal again. We think maybe Joey was trying to send a message that he was not mad, and knows we will never forget him.
4 - One more -- before my son was killed, I had many bad dreams, the one that stuck with me took place two nights before the accident. I dreamed that I had died and felt guilty because I left my son without a mother. I remember in my dream standing outside and looking out over the desert. After my son was killed I realized that the place in my dream was the back yard where my son was killed. I just did not put the two together before. I think maybe that dream was a warning I ignored, and on the awful day a piece of me did in fact die.
About 3 months ago I had a dream, it was one of those that you think was I really asleep? I was driving home from work in a VW Bug (had one for years) and as I turned the corner I looked back in my rear view mirror. I glanced at the mailbox, it was the kind that has the 2 flower pots in each side. In place of one of the flower pots was my son's coat folded up. I walked over to pick up his coat and there he was across the street standing in the ditch. I could feel the freshness and odor of his shirt, it was white with a small plaid and he was wearing kaki pants. He said had been trying to get home but couldn't and tried to go to work but he never got there. I had to tell him that he was killed in an accident, and that appeared to upset him. I told him that it was ok that he needed to go on. At that time an angel appeared and held out her hand, I placed Jake's hand in hers. I told him it was ok to go and that she would take care of him.
Since that day I have a different kind of feeling, it's almost like he is where he is suppose to be at this time and I don't wonder or worry if he is ok, I know he is.
2-14-74 to 10-17-97
Well, I have had two experiences with my deceased baby visiting me in my dreams. The first was a couple of nights after she died. I dreamed I was talking to her and she said, "I just couldn't hold on anymore, Momma" I told her it was alright and that I love her. The second experience I had was when my husband and I were discussing having another baby and I was very nervous. That night I had a dream in which I was delivering a baby and my deceased baby, Ashley, was there floating above the bed, smiling down on the three of us. That has given me the courage to have another child.
Mom to Ashley
My precious boy, Aaron Elliott Koenig, died in an automobile accident on November 10, 1998 at about 5:36 p.m. I had not heard from him for a week or so and tried calling him that afternoon, but his phone had been disconnected. I got worried and called his paternal grandmother (who I had not spoken to for about a year) who lives in the same city as he. While we were talking a friend of Aaron's came to the grandmother's door, began beating on it and screaming that Aaron had been in an accident. I can't help but believe that somehow Aaron had me phone his grandmother so that I could be spared a call from the hospital.
About a week after Aaron's death I was lying in bed, but not asleep. I "heard" him say "I love you" in my right ear. I immediately responded "I love you, too," then realized what had happened. The next day I woke up with the most indescribable feeling of total bliss, joy and unconditional love; it was so overwhelming that I stood in one spot and just basked in it for how long I can't remember! I know it was my sweetie giving me a sample of life where he had gone.
Aaron's Mom, now and for eternity,
I have had many brushes with the spirits of lost loved ones in the past year. On March 3, 1999, my best friend from college disappeared. She was extremely important to me during college, as I was a newlywed in a new town at a new school. She was my one friend, besides my husband. We shared everything and she kept me sane. We have stayed in touch over the years and even taught in the same district but in different schools. On March 3rd, I could have visited her in her room to find out why she had seemed so unlike herself the month before. Circumstances pulled me away from her school before visiting with her and days later, while eating and watching TV, I heard, "Local teacher still missing." I had been out of town for the weekend and not heard any local news. For three days, her picture had been everywhere, saying she was missing and presumed to have run away from her responsibilities. I was sick! I called the police and assured them she would never "leave". She loved her family and life too much to be so selfish. For three months, she was slandered by the police by their implication that she was an irresponsible 31 year old woman who had run away from it all. All the while, I was feeling guilt at not seeing her when I could and maybe changing her schedule just enough to save her life. I envisioned her face down in a pile of leaves, cold and wet. Her skull was found in a wildlife preserve three months after she disappeared and nothing has been found since. For months after this, I thought of Krystal daily. A beautiful three hour memorial was held in which her friends and family joyously sang and spoke of her union with Jesus in Heaven. I cried uncontrolably for the entire three hours and could not be consoled. When "In the Arms of the Angels" came on, I tried to sing but only cried. I didn't wear make-up for months because I didn't have the spirit to put even powder on. I could feel her spirit around my shoulders like a warm hug and I knew she was not at peace. No arrest has been made to this day and I just could not see the sense in her loss. Jump forward. On February 25, 2000, the secretary of my school came to my room saying there was a call about one of my nieces. I have an infant niece, eight year old niece with epilepsy, 12 year old niece, and 14 year old niece. I assumed the 8 year old had suffered a bad seizure and was hospitalized. With my heart in my throat, I took the phone. My husband stammered for what seemed days. He tried and tried to speak, but all he could say was, "It's...it's...it's..." I kept begging, "Who is it, what is it?" When he finally managed, "It's Kirsten" I almost fell to the ground. My oldest niece, healthy as the day is long. She must have been kicked in the head by a steer while working on her farm. She couldn't be sick. With thoughts racing, he managed to say she had suffered an aneuyism (sp?). She was in a coma and it looked very grave. I hung up the phone, walked to my desk, got my purse, and left. I talked to my sister from home and got more details. As I wrote notes on a pad of paper, my husband grew more and more desperate. He works on a head trauma ward and knew that with blood in all ventricles of her brain, Kirsten as we knew her was gone. He prepared me for the worst, hoped for the best, and begged me not to kill myself driving the 120 miles to her hospital. Amazingly, knowing my niece was fighting for her life, I worried only about her younger sister, the 12 year old, and repeatedly chanted, "How can we make sure this doesn't happen to Becca?"
Kirsten had actually suffered an ruptured AVM. Blood was filling her brain with tremendous pressure that shunting, adult doses of medication, and craniel resection could not lower. She went into a comma on Friday while on a field trip for FFA and on Sunday, against every fiber of my soul, I went back home to try to continue "life as normal" while she recovered. The entire drive was torture as I could feel more with each mile that what I was doing was wrong. On Monday morning, I called my principal and told her I would be back Wednesday if Kirsten was still alive but just couldn't be at work yet. As I drove the 120 miles again, I talked to Krystal, my lost friend, and bargained for Kirsten's life. I told her that I could accept her death finally if it meant her skull could provide the room Kirsten so desperately needed. I begged her to go to Kirsten, be with her, and help her through. I could feel Krystal all around me and pushed her away, saying aloud, "Go to her and be what she needs." I wanted Krystal to be Kirsten's savior, but she became Kirsten's friend. Kirsten was pronounced brain dead a day and a half later. I haven't felt Krystal since and have never felt Kirsten beyond my last kiss to the bridge of her nose before organ donation. They are both gone from me now, but I know Kirsten has a friend to help her along the way and Krystal has a reason to move on. All she knows is to love children, now she is loving my niece for eternity.
To say I don't feel Kirsten doesn't not mean I don't dream of her or get visited by her though. I have had dreams in which she is living out her life-long dream of becoming a pilot. She is wearing a flight suit and training on equipment that provides simulated weightlessness, high G-forces, and disequilibrium. All the while, she looks down from above me and smiles. That beautiful smile. I know she is happy. Her loss made me reevaluate my life and make some decisions that were long overdue. Many good, yet scary, things will be happening to my family in the next couple of months because of this and I have wondered if I've made the right decisions in leaving my school district and moving to a much smaller one, with far less pay, half way across the state. As if in answer, a very silly thing happened to me at the grocery store about a week after taking the new job. After moments of deep concentration while shopping, I emptied my cart, put it into the corral provided, and walked back to my car. As I watched the cart, which was sitting still, it turned around and started rolling through the parking lot. Knowing I should get it, I just stood, watched, and smiled. The cart would come dangerously close to hitting a car, only to veer off at the last second in a different direction. The cart entered another corral and stopped. I got into my car, laughing aloud, when the cart turned again for a new adventure. This time it made looping circles as it headed for the road, making smooth changes in direction all the while. One gap existed in the curb, which the cart hurled toward, but had one wheel caught by. There the cart rested, seeming to strain against the hold of the curb.
I sat in my car, laughing at the silly cart. Yes, it was a little windy and the parking lot was on an angle, but no damage had been done as it frolicked and played. I thought back to all the times Kirsten, Becca, and I had walked around Gerbes or Wal-Mart pushing a cart. Never would the girls be content to push the cart, it had to be ridden like a scooter! I pictured Kirsten standing on the back support of the cart, pushing with her foot to speed it along and avoid collisions. I could see her smiling at me as she rushed along, her hair flowing behind in the breeze. I fought an urge to turn my car around as I pulled away, walk over to the cart, and say, "Kirsten, is that you?" I was almost afraid of getting a response.
I took that cart as a sign that Kirsten has been with me all along and has helped guide the direction my family is moving in. The silly cart has visited with me since, going an entire city block to watch my husband, son, and myself play baseball at a nearby field. This time, the cart moved uphill, across a busy street, through a convenience store parking lot, and settled behind home plate. Kirsten was a catcher. I just said, "Hi, Kirsten" and enjoyed the time with my family.
I'm sure I sound like a freak and I know I've rambled on. I haven't shared most of this with others, because they wouldn't understand. But let me assure you, I was raised in a loving Christian home. I do not belong to any group of new-age worship. I am a simple person who has been affected greatly by death in the past year. I allow myself to feel what is around me and am thankful for the impressions I have recieved. My best childhood friend, whom I love dearly, is in jail right now for the self-defense murder of her boyfriend last fall, so I have experienced death from many perspectives in a short time. I felt a real connection with many of the postings in the "When Angels Visit" area and felt compelled to respond. If I couldn't believe in what I've written, I think this would all have been entirely unbearable. Nothing makes the pain go away. I miss Kirsten everyday. Having to look in the faces of children everyday knowing that one of the best children in the world has been taken away can be too much. Knowing Kirsten speaks to me when I am willing to listen is a great comfort, though. Thank you for listening.
A loving aunt and friend
Lena, was my only child, she was killed in an auto accident due to road rage. From the time they came to my door, the only thing I worried about, is to make sure she didn't hurt. 3 weeks after her death, in my dream I was on my knees holding her in my arms and she looked up at me as said "It's OK Mom I didn't hurt". I know she didn't suffer, Lena was killed instantly. A little over 1 year after she died, I was in my bathroom brushing my teeth, my computer room is across from the bathroom, when I looked up in the mirror, my chair was turned facing the bathroom and I could see this white glow, white outline of the long curly hair. I felt like Lena was looking at me, but I knew if I turned around she would be gone. I looked in the mirror for 5 minutes, then when I turned around there was nothing there. In my heart I know it was Lena, for 1 thing I never leave my chair turned out I always push it under my desk. Then later that night as I was finishing my mail, behind me I heard "Mom" but when I turned around there was nothing there. Lena and I always told each other I love you, everyday before we left the house or hung up the phone, I still tell her, but I just don't hear it, but that night I seen the glow I knew she was telling me I love you Mom.
Links of Dreams
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