Death is not final...
Death is not final, but rather a transition into the world beyond—a place that should be honored, not feared.
-Lisa Williams
If you are here and have chosen to read this article, you might be more than just a little curious about the other side, right? Know that you are not alone. Regardless of what others may think of you or tell you, they are just as curious—but afraid of the judgment, the ridicule, and especially of the unknown. It is a risk to admit you’re exploring something that goes against conventional wisdom, something that is not spoken about and frequently hidden.
Today I received this email from a follower:
"Hi, Angie. I just came across your app. I am 54 years old and lost my mother to mental illness and suicide when I was a 12-year-old kid. I don't think I ever truly got over her death and still carry feelings of guilt because I wasn't the ideal son, and I never even went to her funeral. She took her life a few days before my 13th birthday. I developed schizophrenia when I was in my late teens. My mum suffered from postpartum psychosis after my birth and was in and out of psychiatric hospitals throughout my whole childhood. I look forward to following your FB page."
Can you imagine? How heartbreaking. My heart went out to this man. He was only a little boy. He continues to carry guilt almost 42 years later. We are not born into guilt and shame. No. We are taught guilt and shame. I wanted to wrap my arms around this follower and let him know that his mother is free of dis-ease, she can love. She can love him more now than ever if he allows and forgives her—but more importantly forgives himself. This man's mum wants him to know how proud she is of him, and that she loved him when he was a boy the best and the only way she knew how and loves him now as a man. Her sickness was not his fault, it is something that was genetically passed down through her family, most likely from her father's side. His mother, too, is so grateful that her little man didn't have to be present at a funeral where everyone mourns the dead. He now has the opportunity to celebrate life with her. Those from beyond, including his mum, guided him to my work, knowing that I would listen and understand. He knew that I wouldn't judge him. I could possibly provide him a few tools and resources that have worked for me that might slowly begin to mend his broken, fragile, and confused heart.
Lisa Williams is an Internationally Acclaimed Medium and Clairvoyant. Her book called The Survival of the Soul gave me hope when I felt there was none, and I still refer to it today when someone is desperately searching for answers. Searching for anything. Anything that will offer solace, a break from the continuous and arduous task of grief, a break from the pain that is ready to swallow its victim whole.
I began seeing many signs and symbols, hearing sounds, seeing repeated numbers, and dreaming dreams so vivid they felt real. I wasn't sure how to process this new information and what it all meant. I couldn't help but wonder if my grief was slowly making me crazy. I crawled deeper under my covers and curled myself up tighter in the fetal position. I was a cynic and a skeptic. To a certain degree I still am—except about afterlife. Now I know better. Through my own experience.
Judge Judy, my favorite television judge, would say: if it doesn't make sense, it isn't true. I told myself over and over again: this doesn't make sense, so it can't be true. Still, my soul knew better than what my swirling and analytical mind wanted me to believe. I'm not talking about an emotion. I'm talking about a feeling - an intuition. A knowing. A sixth sense that we all have noticed but seldom pay attention to. You know the one…the gut feeling. I was nervous to tell anyone about the unexplainable sights, sounds, and smells that continue to present almost five years after the death of my son. These sights and sounds continue to give me the affirmation and validation that he is really well, joyful, and happy where he is—with none of the earthly trappings to tether him down.
This one book began to answer my burning question: where is my son? I was taught in my religious schooling that those who take their lives are not welcomed into Heaven. Could this be true too? I thought to myself. Could my son be in a fiery Hell like my institutional upbringing has had me believe all these years? Is what I was taught to be believed? That my son wouldn't even be welcomed into a cemetery, let alone Heaven? I was not only on a mission to find my son, but I was out to dispel this horrible belief that had the potential to keep me locked in a prison of fear, guilt, blame, and shame for the rest of my life.
Before I read Lisa's book, I had absolutely nothing to explore except what I had been taught for twelve years in parochial school. I had no reference points except the fearful worst-case scenarios. I didn't even know what I was looking for. But I knew it was something, and I knew it was something very different. I knew it wasn't what I had been taught—I would not allow that to be my belief system. I knew I needed to create new beliefs, or I would have to live with guilt, shame, pain, bewilderment, sadness, and no hope for the rest of my life. I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to. I found even therapists were at a loss. Not one family member or friend could guide me. They had no experience in this subject either. I had nothing to read, nothing to believe in. My world was shattered. The world I knew had not only been turned upside down but crushed to pieces.
Nothing could take away the aching pain. When it wasn't piercing me deeply, it was instead a dull ache that after several months felt like a bruise that would never heal. I cried tears that promised never to quit. The tears made welts into my cheeks because they were continuous streams of warm, liquid salt that flowed and flowed and flowed some more. One tear was indistinguishable from the next—just a constant, aching flow promising to carve the Grand Canyon. The tear stains felt permanent. I didn't care. I just wanted to die myself. I wanted to be with him wherever he was, no matter where that was. I didn't care. Nothing in this material world made sense anymore, and nothing in this material world mattered anymore. The material world in all its grandiosity—stuff and "more" means absolutely nothing to me anymore. Go ahead. Take anything from me. All I wish for is to hear my son's voice, to see his smile, to see his sparkly blue-green eyes, just one more day.
I was on my own. It was lonely. Oh, how there were days I wish I could curl up back under the covers. Not that this was healthy for me, but at least it was familiar, and there was a comfort in familiarity. I thought that I had life and death all figured out. There was a semblance of comfort in thinking I knew all of the answers. I knew where we would go when we die, at least I knew where I was going. I thought I knew what the Heaven experience would look like. I thought I knew what the Heaven experience would be like. And how did I know this? Because of what I had learned, what I had been taught, not from my own experiences which are proving to be far more valuable and authentic. After experiencing two suicides of men whom I absolutely loved, the only thing that was absolutely certain was that I knew absolutely nothing at all!
I soon learned that I had it all wrong. I was confronted with not only one, but two, deaths. And not just your ordinary deaths, the worse kind, suicide, because there are no answers, only more questions. I believed for many years that after death there was only one of two places we would go and a possible holding tank called Purgatory for those of us who might have lived life a little sketch. I was not satisfied with these three outcomes. The universe seemed so much more magnificent and non-linear to only believe that life and death were all rolled up into a Heaven, Hell, and a possible Purgatory. I also knew, from my analytical yet discerning mind, anything was better than continuing to believe this. Anything, and I mean anything, was better than the Hell I was already living in.
Finding my son was the most important mission of my life. I had two choices. One was to find him somewhere that satisfied my soul. The second was to believe that he was dead and his soul, spirit, and personality were gone forever never to be seen again. Gone without a trace. This I couldn't fathom. I chose to search. For if I didn't find him, I knew I would die, and if I were going to die, I might as well die trying. The Survivor of the Soul provided me with answers that helped me through the tumultuous pain. It began an unraveling and understanding that gave me a semblance of peace, of balance, something I thought I would never experience again. Death is not final and our loved ones are still very much present all around us, offering peace, comfort, and joy if we allow.
Once I started searching, with a level of discernment, and following the breadcrumbs that were being offered, I knew there would be no turning back.
As I flipped through each page of Lisa's book, not able to get enough, I asked myself: could this information be true? This goes against everything I was taught to believe. Am I making this up? Death is final. Death is to be feared, right? We do everything to stay alive. We do everything absolutely necessary to prevent death, don't we? My rational mind continued to try and rationalize and explain the unexplainable. I read the book from front to back. And if nothing else, this one book did provide me palpable answers. These answers resonated with me and soothed the pain of loss that was beginning to devour my life. My heart had felt broken into a thousand shards, piercing the insides of my chest, trying to burst through in any way they could to escape the trappings of my earthly skin suit.
I love this book and recommend it because it is an account of what might happen to the soul of our loved ones when they die—and what may happen to us. This explanation, I found, was closer to a truth I could live with. This was a more loving and conscious afterlife than what I was taught. Also, this book validated what I was beginning to learn about the other side through my own intimate experiences with death. I did, however, find myself very alone for a long time on this journey. Not many were ready to take the leap, take the risk. But now I'm finding others who are having these same experiences, and they are grateful that they are not alone because I am here to walk this journey with them. It has developed into a sort of community, if you will.
When Nick died, I was seeing signs. As hard as I would try, I couldn't rationalize them. I remember being angry and frustrated and hurt because every time I turned around I was reminded of Nick. Every time a sign or symbol appeared, I would immediately associate it with the pain of his death. Why are all of these signs coming at me at a hundred miles an hour? STOP! I thought to myself, STOP! Until I realized Nick was trying to get my attention with physical things he knew I would recognize, memories that only we shared. This taught me how important it is to be present and aware—to be in the moment to be able to experience these signs from beyond. A few years before, I wouldn’t have thought it possible to relive these painful memories without being bowled over in the fetal position.
Lisa's words validated what I was experiencing. The signs and symbols were the affirmations I needed—proving that Nick was trying with all his might to show me, in the only way he knew how, that he was okay. Nick wanted to tell me that he loved me and is always around me offering guidance if needed, and when I ask. I've learned that we make it so difficult for our loved ones to connect with us. It's as if they are screaming: I'm here! I'm still right here! Please wipe your tears. You don't have to miss me. There is nothing to miss! Communication works both ways. The more open I am to receive the messages, the easier it is to accept the gifts of their communication whenever it presents—and in whichever way it presents as well.
The more I read, the more the signs, symbols, numbers, sounds, and dreams made sense. I began to understand that my experiences and the messages weren't messages to keep me in pain and sorrow but a peaceful calm and joy instead. A light began to flicker, small and very faint. There was something I hadn't felt for a while: HOPE! This one book gave me the first glimmer of hope that my son was okay—regardless of how he chose to take himself out of this life school. Every day I am given proof. I began recognizing the evidence because I decided to invest in a book, a book that has been profound to my healing. So, Lisa, if you are reading this, thank you, thank you, and thank you again from the bottom of my heart.
I am so grateful, now, for any message Nick conveys and when he chooses to don his presence using numbers, nature, coins, sounds, etc. Now, I recognize these messages as directly from beyond. Instead of feeling the deep pain of the gaping wound in my heart, I find myself smiling and laughing. Yes, there are still those moments that I am shaken to my core, my legs not able to support me, finding myself on my knees weeping and asking him to come back to me for just one more day. But these moments present now only as moments—and not days and weeks and months. They quickly pass because I have come to believe, with the help of angel authors like Lisa Williams and the timely recommendation of her book, that there is no death. My son is alive and well in a transcended state, and if I choose I can connect with him whenever I want. I now use his sight from his universal vantage point to help guide me while I walk this earth and navigate my own life. In my own upcoming book, I share the proof that my son has shared with me. I share how his work on the other side is being recognized globally, and his mission now is to help other parents heal who have lost their child to death.
One of the first communications from Nick was in the form of numbers. Almost a year after he had died, I started noticing the number 17. The number 17, those of you who follow me know, is significant to me. It was popping up everywhere, but I didn't know what it meant, and at that time I chalked it up to mere coincidence. A few days after Nick had died, his friends had started sending me screenshots of their phones showing Nick smiling and laughing with them. It was only much later that I realized his Instagram address was ncorbett17. I was too buried in my grief to recognize this small and trivial detail that I have come to believe was a direct sign. I was too immersed in my pain to even recognize it, let alone make the association. Who would have ever thought that a small, insignificant number would become so profound? Although, I might add, it did take me seeing it hundreds of times and hearing it in the oddest of places to realize 17 is special. The number 17 would be our number.
Five years later, as I pulled the link to Lisa's book from the Amazon Prime website to share as a resource below, I see this: You purchased this item on June 17, 2015. The words made me smile and stop for a moment to honor Nick. Of course I did, I thought to myself, of course I purchased this item on June 17. It is essential to mention here, as well, that at ten weeks after Nicholas had died when I bought this book, I wasn't open to any of the information Lisa teaches in her writing. I had never thought about death before. I never had a reason to.
Nick's death taught me that I knew nothing. I was open to learning. I was born curious, maybe for this exact moment in time. My curiosity continues to serve me well. I find myself living in a much more joyful state. I listened to the unorthodox teachers, I enrolled in courses, and I participated in retreats at remote parts of the world. I practiced, I learned to quiet my mind, and I learned to ask for what I wanted in my dreams. I learned the language of my loved ones. The fear lifted, the doubt dissipated, and I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel (pardon the pun: those of you who have experienced a Near Death Experience or NDE).
When I was unable to contain my excitement and began sharing my messages, I was asked: What if you're wrong? Don’t you think it's just your imagination? Are you making things up? You're just wishful thinking. That's just a coincidence. At one time these questions would have bothered me, they would have triggered me, but I realized they were all fair. I asked not only these questions, but so many more. You know what I found? There is no harm in questioning, to seek proof, to find our own truth, to heal our own souls, to serve our highest and best interests. Unfortunately, there are many people out there who claim to know all of the answers, and they will ridicule and judge our journey if it is not in alignment with their own set of beliefs. Once I took control of my own healing, I learned what did and did not work for me. I couldn’t rely on what others taught me or books that I read and memorized. Trusting what I was learning each and every moment of my experience truly changed my life from one of living in a confined prison to one of freedom and peace within.
Before, Lisa Williams’s book would have never found its way into my hands. No, I would have judged her. I would have judged the cover of her book without even peering inside to see what it might hold. But by living through two suicide deaths, I have learned that each one of us is a teacher at some point in our lives, and on the flip side of the coin each one of us is a student. Today, I am a student. I am learning from someone who has more knowledge of something that has been a foreign language to me up until now. I am so grateful that my friend suggested Lisa's book. It was a life raft. I chose not to judge the life raft when it presented and instead hopped aboard even though it didn't look like what I expected. My answer came in a different package than what I learned it should be. It definitely included thoughts and ideas I had never contemplated in my life. I am so grateful for this one teacher. I am so thankful for this one book. It was the beginning of the most profound healing I could have experienced.
If you are searching, I hope you will read Lisa Williams's book. It has brought so much comfort and wisdom to me from the other side. As with everything, be discerning. There might be parts you absolutely love and that resonate with you. There might be parts of her book that you choose not to include in your toolkit. The really great thing? It is all your choice.
Here is a tiny glimpse taken directly from her book:
Many of us have questions about the passage of life and often wonder what happens when we die. In this amazingly insightful book by medium/clairvoyant Lisa Williams, evidence of the afterlife is explored. Through various channels such as meditation, psychic readings, communication with her Spirit Guide, and a personal near-death experience, Lisa delves into the journey of the soul, discusses the different stages of the afterlife, and reveals what life is really like on the other side. This book addresses the myriad of questions many of us have surrounding this subject, especially if we've gone through the painful experience of having lost loved ones. Lisa provides a reassuring glimpse into this fascinating topic by exploring the pathway to the afterlife and then to reincarnation, with the realization that death is not final, but rather a transition into the world beyond—a place that should be honored, not feared.
If you are curious and want to learn more about what might be on the other side, I hope that you will click here to order Lisa's book. https://amzn.to/385pW4O. If you do, my wish for you is that you find the comfort and a healing sense of peace that I found reading and absorbing every word.
Again, thank you to Lisa Williams's genius and courage to share her gift with us, so that we may find comfort and peace, so that we may glean insight into a whole new world that is open to us, that has been foreign and taboo…. Until now.
