Jane Greer - The Afterlife Connection: A Therapist Reveals How to Communicate with Departed Loved Ones

The Afterlife
Connection

ALSO BY DR. JANE GREER

Adult Sibling Rivalry

How Could You Do This to Me?

Gridlock

My mother Helen and I on vacation in Italy.

The Afterlife
Connection

A Therapist Reveals
How to Communicate with
Departed Loved Ones

DR. JANE GREER

ST. MARTINS GRIFFIN NEW YORK

THE AFTERLIFE CONNECTION . Copyright 2003 by Dr. Jane Greer. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Greer, Jane, 1951

The afterlife connection : a therapist reveals how to communicate with departed loved ones /Jane Greer,

p. cm.

ISBN 0-312-30652-0 (hc)

ISBN 0-312-30653-9 (pbk)

EAN 978-0312-30653-3

1. Spiritualism. 1. Title.

BF1261.2.G74 2003

133.9dc21

2003047146

10 9 8 7 6 5 4

To my father

For your unconditional love throughout my life.

When it counts the most, youre always there.

I love you.

Life is eternal,

Love is immortal,

And death is only a horizon...

And the horizon is nothing

Save the limit of our sight.

CARLY SIMON , Life Is Eternal

Introduction

My Mothers Promise

The angels, whispering to one another, can find amid their burning terms of love, none so devotional as that of Mother.

EDGAR ALLAN POE

Its more than four years ago as of this writing that my mother, Helen, and I were chatting and laughing as we crossed Madison Avenue. Shed come up to New York from Florida, where she and my father lived, and wed spent the morning shopping and just enjoying one anothers company. It was one of those wonderful September days when the weather is still balmy and the sky a cloudless, clear blue. The only thing that made it less than perfect was the fact that my mother, who never complained about physical problems, was complaining that she had a splitting headache. I thought she probably needed new glasses and suggested that when she got back home, she make an appointment with the eye doctor.

I remember walking my dogs one day just a week or so before she arrived and thinking how lucky I was that both my parents had so much longevity in their families. My mothers mother had lived to ninety-four and her mothers sister, my great aunt, to ninety-three. I thought Id certainly be fortunate enough to have my mother with me for perhaps another twenty years.

Because of her family history and her own good health, as well as the fact that she practiced yoga every day, played golf regularly, and had always been extremely careful about what she ate, it never occurred to me that she could be seriously ill. Over the next few days her headache persisted, however, and again I urged her to make that eye doctors appointment.

The following Wednesday, she went back to Florida as planned, promising that she would call the ophthalmologist. On Friday she dinged her brand-new car trying to maneuver her way out of a parking lot because, as she described the incident to my father, she couldnt see the car that was to the side of hers. My parents called me that night to report what had happened. Theyd already made an emergency visit to the eye doctor, who said that my mother had lost her peripheral vision. He was concerned and had told them she needed an immediate MRI to determine the cause. The test was scheduled for Monday morning. I, too, was concerned about her vision, but because her driving stories were, and continue to be, legend in our family, I still wasnt terribly worried. I thought she might have had a mini-stroke. But my great aunt had suffered a series of mini-strokes and had nevertheless enjoyed an extremely long life. My mother was only seventy-seven. I just hoped there wouldnt be any permanent damage, and that shed recover her vision fully and quickly.

Sunday, my mother called again. She was certain that something was terribly wrong, and she was frightened. She started to talk about the fact that she wanted to be cremated. Although I still genuinely believed shed be fine, I responded to her fears by saying if thats what she wanted, shed have to choose a very special place to scatter her ashes. I asked her where that would be, and we began to talk about places that were meaningful to her. Never for a minute did I consider that there could be anything seriously wrong with her. In fact, as was her typical style, she began to make jokes about which spot to choose, and we were able to laugh together even while discussing such a frightening subject.

I knew my parents would call as soon as my mother had the results of her test on Monday, so when I hadnt heard from them by four oclock, I was getting pretty anxious. At four-thirty, my father did call. Your mother has a brain tumor, he said. When I heard that, it was as if Id been hit over the head with a brick. This cant be happening, was my immediate reaction. He told me she needed immediate surgery, and that the operation had been scheduled for Wednesday morning. I told him my husband, Marc, and I would be there the next day and hung up in a complete state of shock to make plans.

From that point on, my life became surreal. It was hard for me to grasp the fact that the rest of the world was unchanged, that other people were going about their everyday business as usual. My own world had come to a grinding halt. The phrase falling apart took on a very personal meaning. It didnt matter where I was, both during her illness and after her deathif someone asked me how my mother was doing or offered his or her sympathy, I might suddenly burst into tears. It might even be in the middle of a therapy session. I simply couldnt prevent the upsurge of emotion. And then, at other times, Id be perfectly able to talk rationally and reasonably about what was happening. For the first time in my life, my feelings were completely unpredictable and totally beyond my control.

Throughout my life my mother and I had always shared so much of one anothers lives that we seemed more like sisters than mother and daughter. The thought of losing her was simply unfathomable to me. She knew all of my friends and I knew hers. My friends often went with me to Florida, where wed all spend time together, sometimes joining her friends for lunches, dinners, or a movie. To this day, her friends and I have stayed in touch, which is an ongoing connection that has been extremely heartening to me.

One loss I still feel deeply is no longer being able to share our physical resemblance. Not only did we feel like sisters, we also looked and sounded so much alike that people would routinely remark on the fact that we had the same face. Even now, when I speak, I very often hear my mothers voice. Her style was distinctive, but sometimes we could also wear the same clothes. Even now, I might see a particular dress or outfit in a shop and think, Thats exactly my mother. Just knowing there was someone in this world whose bond to me was so genetically obvious somehow allowed me to feel that we belonged together. I felt that we were so much a part of one another that I could never truly be alone so long as my mother was in the world.