Feathers

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Feathers

BY JULIA R UTLEDGE

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Copyright © 2005 By xxxx All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise—without written permission from the publisher.

International Standard Book Number: 0-xxxxxxx-1-9 Printed in the United States of America First Printing: xx 2005 Cover Design Artwork Layout & Design

Christina Wilkinson Sabre Design & Publishing

Special thanks to xxxxxxx.

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Dedication This book is dedicated to the bereaved

“God is the center of the universe, and everything revolves around His plan.”

MICHAEL RUTLEDGE July 11, 1997

“When you reach the end of your rope, God and the angels are always there to bring you up.”

AMBER ROBEY July 16, 1997

“Remember that death is not painful.

Please be happy for us.

Everything is all a part of God’s plan.

Stay strong and remember that God exists.”

JONATHAN WILSON July 20, 1997

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Chapter 1: The Plan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Chapter 2: Finding Feathers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Chapter 3: Understanding the Master Plan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 Chapter 4: Returning to Work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Chapter 5: Escaping Reality & Holiday Cheer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 Chapter 6: Back to School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 Photo Gallery. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 Chapter 7: Feeling His Presence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 Chapter 8: Looking in on Michael . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 Chapter 9: Eight Months and Into Easter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 Chapter 10: Michael’s Scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Chapter 11: Coping with Graduation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 Chapter 12: Just Having Fun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 Chapter 13: Finding Amber . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 Chapter 14: Indpendence Day — Learning About Messages . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 Chapter 15: Taking a Vacation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 Chapter 16: Understanding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Chapter 17: Talking With All “the Kids” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Chapter 18: A Special Visit from Michael. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 Chapter 19: Visiting Jonathan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 Chapter 20: Searching for Michael. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 Chapter 21: You Can Fly . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Chapter 22: Amber’s Monthly Anniversary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 Chapter 23: The Anniversary Date . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 Chapter 24: Conversation with Michael. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 Chapter 25: Insights, Emotions & Enlightenment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140

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PROLOGUE Even during times of crisis and devastation God’s plan is “glorious” because according to His will “we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.” (ROM. 8:28)

2004 Life goes on. We never die. Our life, as we know it in the physical world, quickly passes over to another dimension, the spirit world. This dimension is parallel to the physical world, merely separated by time.

The earthly body appearance, with all of the determining features, race, and personality, remain. Body mass is lighter and every part of the physical body is made new again to live in a perfect world. When you see your loved ones, who have passed over, in dreams, glimpses, or visions, you are being allowed to view them as they truly are – in most cases younger, happier, and vibrant.

“Feathers” was written in 1997, a year after the death of our child. I felt a strong inspiration to put to paper all the raw emotions, feelings, and events the newly bereaved face on a daily basis. It is difficult for the grieving to read through lengthy prose. Words of experience and comfort must be presented in a short, direct, and informational manner. I have attempted to meet this need.

Burying a child is out of the natural order of life as we know it. You never get over the pain, but with God’s comfort the pain becomes less intense as the years pass. Bereaved parents need to feel, and know, others understand and may have experienced a similar loss. Our first twelve months of grief, pain, joy, and spiritual enlightenment turned into just a small portion of many blessings yet to come forth.

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PROLOGUE

Over the last seven years God has provided us, our family, and friends with comfort, signs, and miracles, sometimes beyond belief. We all shared with others and the message has been spread among many. The conversations with our son, and others who live in the spirit world, clearly define the statement, “living in two worlds.”

We have been told “Life in the physical world is a training ground. We are all being prepared for other things.” God is always in charge and our life is preplanned. Individual choice occurs less than we imagine. It is not about us, but rather His purpose for us. The main reasons we are put on earth are to glorify God, help others, and learn. Our talents are fueled by inspirational ideas from God, through the angels, and from people living in the spirit world.

At birth we are assigned three personal guardian angels to watch over, assist, and provide guidance to us in this life and the next life. Hosts of other angels watch over us daily. Spiritual guides (humans who have passed on) are often assigned to assist us also. Humans frequently speak of ideas coming into mind, “gut” feelings and intuition. Our personal guardian angels direct these thoughts and feelings to inspire us to fulfill God’s plan for our life. There are no accidents or coincidences Many people in the physical world have been blessed with the gifts given to mediums, clairvoyance, and unusual occurrences. God provides comfort, knowledge, and hope in this manner. It is expected that information be shared with those ready to accept and believe. My husband discovered his gift after the passing of our son. He was told he has had the gift since birth, but God’s plan was for discovery later. Through direct, weekly contact, God has allowed us to be privy to the structure of the spirit world, spiritual levels, growth and process, symbols, transporting, unionization (marrying), entertainment events, celebrations, and missions conducted in our world.

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The mysteries and tragedies of Flight 800, September 11th, time differences, and religion have all been explained. There are no religions or churches in God’s Kingdom. Everyone worships God and lives according to His will.

All of our troubling human differences are resolved.

While we are on earth, God often uses pain and crisis to enable us to grow spiritually and emotionally for our planned earthly missions. Think of the way a blacksmith molds and shapes a horseshoe by pounding the metal in fire.

It is hoped that “Feathers” brings a measure of comfort to the bereaved.

Know your pain is shared by others who have had similar experiences.

“We are all connected by a slender thread. Life goes on. God exists.”

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PROLOGUE

God’s Lent Child I’ll lend you for a little while, a child of mine, God said…

For you to love the while he lives and mourn for when he’s dead.

It may be six or seven years, or forty-two or three, But will you, till I call him back, take care of him for Me? He’ll bring his charms to gladden you, and should his stay be brief, You’ll have his lovely memories as a solace for your grief; I cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return, But there are lessons taught below I want this child to learn.

I’ve looked the whole world over in my search for teachers true, And from the things that crowd life’s lane, I have chosen you.

Now will you give him all your love, nor think the labor vain, Nor hate Me when I come to take this lent child back again.

I fancied that I heard them say, “Dear Lord, Thy will be done, For all the joy Thy child will bring, the risk of grief we’ll run.

We will shelter him with tenderness, we’ll love him while we may, And for the happiness we’ve known, forever grateful stay.

“But should Thy angels call for him, Much sooner than we’ve planned, We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes, And try to understand!”

—EDGAR A. GUEST

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Introduction HIS PERFECT PLAN

God’s plan is always perfect. He never makes mistakes. Michael, our child, our parents, friends, and guardian angels, have continually guided us with these words for twenty-four months. For many years my husband Evans and I have lived an intricate, miraculous, sometimes painful, existence.

As young children we both witnessed the spiritual gifts of God, but paid little attention to the significance of the moments. My mother was born with the “thin veil” which allowed her to predict the future, view with open eyes scenes that were occurring simultaneously in other places and parts of the world, and dream with accuracy and clarity about family members in future life situations. She was clairvoyant and received auditory messages from the spirit world.

My brother, Rhodes, and I lived a rather normal life growing up in Cambridge, Massachusetts. We thought our mother’s gifts were unusual and interesting. My father believed, and didn’t believe, depending upon his present mood. All of us were accustomed to seeing her stand dead still with her eyes open and fixed. When questioned she rarely revealed her thoughts or visions, but would sometimes warn us of impending danger. We, and others, learned to heed Ann’s revelations.

Mother often stated “the gift” was a mixed blessing and burden. Later in life those words became meaningful, especially to my husband.

The South is imbedded with deep religious beliefs and customs. Evans was born in Selma, Alabama, the youngest of three children. His father, Adam, was murdered before his birth, during his mother’s seventh month of pregnancy.

The elderly people of the community told his mother, Flora, children 12 feathersbook

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who never see their father are often given special gifts from God. Indeed, Evans was later known to be able to cure the aches of others by simply touching the point of pain. He soon tired of the requests and attention and refused to display his gift. Eight year olds have other adventures to explore.

Fate would have us meet at Tennessee State University in Nashville, Tennessee in 1966. A blind date blossomed into friendship, love, and understanding. We seemed to be bound by many similar spiritual insights, including life-threatening situations experienced before we met. Evans and I were, and are, complete opposites in personality and nature, yet we are the same in many other ways.

We married in Nashville on June 8, 1968, and moved to Washington, D.C. during the fall. Evans taught junior high school in Georgetown, and I taught at a D.C. high school. After five years in the Washington, D.C. area, Evans accepted an assistant principalship in Selma. The trials, and many lessons, began.

Selma is like no other city in the world. It is an experience. It is a national shrine for civil rights, and can be a daily hotbed of racial intolerance. During our six years in Selma, we went to court five times to fight or defend ourselves against various injustices. Our lives were often threatened. The belief in a Higher Power was tested many times.

One other frustration encompassed our lives – infertility. We had been attempting to have a child for seven of our ten years of marriage. Did God’s plan for us include children? The answer was yes, but in His time.

Michael Evans Rutledge was born on September 23, 1978, in Selma. The blessing of his birth happened just three short weeks after the death of my mother at age 57. She never saw her first grandchild, or did she? During 13 feathersbook

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those last stressful weeks before delivery, my mother came to me in voice, and I heard the cry of a baby. God’s comfort.

Michael came into this world frank breech, bottom first. He was a joy and a challenge. For some reason he needed very little sleep. A full night’s rest finally came after six long months. Evans and I noticed that Michael always appeared to be involved in deep thought.

It eventually became clear that peace in Selma was not in the cards for us.

We moved to Las Vegas, Nevada in October, 1979, when Michael was thirteen months old. Although I had been a therapist in a mental health center in Alabama, I opted to teach again in Las Vegas. In 1982 I became a school counselor, and Evans settled in as a high school administrator.

The three of us experienced sixteen wonderful years in Las Vegas. These years were full of friends, social events, and Michael’s activities (Judo, soccer, swim team, bowling team, basketball, art classes, and band). Michael still appeared to be in quiet thought most of the time. His comments on issues were usually deep and profound. He was always looking inward and called his inner self his third eye.

Although Evans and I felt happy and blessed with our life in Las Vegas, we never stopped looking over our shoulders. Experience had taught us to whom much is given, much is expected. We always felt our combined trials and tribulations led to a path of future events which would again give evidence of God’s hand in our lives.

On August 15, 1996, the unthinkable happened –

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MICHAEL RUTLEDGE September 23, 1978 — August 15, 1996

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The Plan “Did you know that you were going to die?”

“No. No one is privy to that information. It is called the mystery of life. The Bible is true. You know not the time or the hour. It is all a part of God’s Universal plan. I don’t know what I would have done if I had known.”

—MICHAEL RUTLEDGE August 24, 1997

It only takes a split second to change your life forever. Our story is one that must be shared. The experiences we lived through from August 15, 1996 to August 15, 1997, have taught us that our sole purpose on earth is for the glorification of God. We are all here to learn the lessons of life, which cover the full spectrum of love and pain. Spiritual growth is anything but easy. Much courage is needed to have faith. Many will not believe our journey of enlightenment, but their beliefs are best left in God’s care. God exists.

—RUTLEDGE August, 1996 For the past week or so I had been noticing a difference in Michael’s behavior.

He seemed to be restless, extremely tired, distracted, and somewhat anxious.

Michael had always been tall and thin, so I couldn’t really tell if he had been losing weight. He didn’t appear to be eating much, and lately had taken to the sofa for endless hours of sleep. When questioned about his behavior, he always smiled and quipped that he was resting up for college.

Michael finished his recreation job with the city by the end of the second week in August. He was to leave for Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia, the evening of August 23rd. The three of us were excited, and had busied ourselves with clothes shopping, buying all of the necessities for a freshman attending college out-of-state. However, Michael’s enthusiasm tended to run hot and cold.

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As a family we often ate dinner out, went to movies together, and even saw several shows on the strip. All three of us were enjoying the last few days together before life would change as we had known it for the past seventeen and one-half years.

Michael was so loving during these days, and constantly wanted a hug or kiss from both of us. He was an only child, and the display of separation anxiety did not surprise me or my husband. Frequently he would ask me to lie on the sofa with him to watch television, which led to the additional requests for a head rub.

Many friends were still calling the house, but lately he asked us to take phone messages. His attitude was, he didn’t feel like running the streets his last few days before college. It melted us when he announced he loved us so much that time would be better spent doing family activities.

My husband noticed that Michael had begun to sleep half of the night on the sofa in our bedroom again. He was perhaps twelve years old when he stopped that habit. Sometime during the night Michael would move to his bedroom for another round of excessive sleeping. I know the signs of depression, but he appeared more to be enjoying his last few days of freedom before the endless pressures and challenges that lay ahead.

High school counselors usually return to work about a week before teachers at the beginning of every school year. Michael visited me at my office on August 13th to ask questions about his college checking account to be set up through his local bank. It was the first time that he had ever visited me at my workplace. He laughed, talked, and said goodbye to some of the other counselors. As we left the building to go home, Michael said, “Mom, I just love you so much.� I uttered the same words, and tried to hide my astonishment at this sudden gush of emotions. I was so very proud of him.

Michael shopped for school items most of the day, and then occupied his favorite place on the sofa, in front of the television. Michael was again unusually affectionate toward me and his father. As I fixed dinner, we discussed a wide variety of college concerns and some very thought provoking issues.

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Michael had always been extremely articulate and his conversations could become very deep. Rhetoric was his forte.

My husband, Rutledge, was excited because his childhood friend from Alabama was in town for a two day visit. John and Gloria Mobley now live outside of Philadelphia and had been visiting Oregon for a vacation. They did not want to come this far west without seeing us. Rutledge was his best man almost 29 years ago. Although we had not seen each other in many years, we somehow had kept in contact. John had been a Baptist minister for over 25 years and we still had not heard him preach.

Before the Mobleys arrived, Michael was in a very jovial mood and began making statements that I now feel had double meanings. One question he asked was, “Mom, whose life are you going to manage when I leave for Morehouse?� He then went into a long discussion about how strong he now realized that I had always been through the years. Frankly, I did not know what he was speaking about. I could not remember any unusual strength that was exhibited, no more than any other parent. My husband eyed Michael speculatively as he intuitively talked on and became enthralled with his own words, trapped in the paralysis of his analysis. This child was always so deep. I remember that he talked in phrases at about ten months, long before he felt the need to climb or walk. Why walk when you can order your doting parents around!

John and Gloria arrived shortly after we had finished dinner. It was wonderful to see them again and introduce them to Michael. We laughed and reminisced for a while until John somehow broached the subject of religion.

Michael had been studying Islam for at least a year and the discussion soon rolled around to the difference between Christianity and Muslim religion.

We knew Michael had been pondering whether to convert, but we asked him to at least wait until he spent a year at Morehouse before making a definite decision. He was almost eighteen, and we felt that his choice of religious beliefs should ultimately be left up to him. Secretly we prayed that he would be exposed to other spiritual paths at Morehouse.

Out of respect, we acquiesced to his many dietary changes and almost com-

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pletely stopped eating pork – “nasty swine” as he called it. It was just too much trouble to cook two different meats. Michael was very appreciative of our efforts.

Michael explained to John and Gloria his college plans to major in psychology and English, but made it clear that his ultimate goal was to become a music producer like Quincy Jones. He also rattled on about the “new world order” and the effects of technology on our way of life. “Man is so wrapped up in himself and new inventions, he has forgotten his spiritual needs and only thinks it necessary to rely on himself.” Michael felt man needed to spend more time defining himself, his own habits, and treatment of other humans; then, and only then, would the world be a better place. I often saw him read a piece of literature entitled “As a Man Thinketh.”

Later that evening Michael asked to be excused because his stomach was upset. Gloria remarked that he was probably experiencing a nervous stomach because of the excitement of packing and leaving for college. We all agreed to meet at the house the next day, August 15th, at 3:30 p.m., before going out to dinner. An early one was necessary because John and Gloria were still on Philadelphia time. John shook Michael’s hand and told him to read the Book of Acts before our dinner. He told Michael that through this book in the Bible, he would explain the difference between Islam and Christianity.

I woke Michael at 11:00 p.m., after John and Gloria left, to see if his stomach had settled. He lifted his head in an awkward way, and I remember that he looked gaunt. The mother instinct started to surface because I just felt uneasy about his well-being for some reason. Michael stated that he had enough sleep, was feeling better, and planned to watch a little television. We went to bed and left him in the family room switching the satellite dish. I remember asking him, as I walked toward the bedroom, “Are you nervous about going to college?” He said, “Yes, but I am ready to leave and move on.”

I awoke at 5:30 a.m. and noticed that Michael had slept the entire night on the sofa in our bedroom. I woke him and told him that I was planning to get ready for work. Did he wish to stay there? He said he had enough sleep and moved to the family room to watch television.

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As Rutledge left for work at 6:30 a.m., Michael rose, hugged him passionately, telling him how much he loved him and what a wonderful father he was. He then proceeded to hug and kiss me, telling me the same words.

Before leaving for work I sat at the kitchen table and we discussed his plans for the day. Michael said he planned to casual clothes shop, read the book of Acts, and check his knowledge of the new word processor we had bought for college.

It was getting late, but for some unexplainable reason, I didn’t want to leave the house. Michael hugged me again and told me that he loved me. I walked over to the sofa, caressed his face in my hands, and told him that his father and I were so proud of him and loved him so much. I continued on saying that we would never want anything to happen to him. Immediately I questioned these strange words I had just uttered, my mind raced with questions and concerns. However, I continued in the same vein as I walked toward the kitchen. I muttered in a low tone that parents never want to think about their children dying before they do. Why did I say this? I frantically hoped that Michael had not heard my gloomy remarks. The last words he said to me as I entered the garage were, “I’ll be ready by 3:30 so John and Gloria can eat on their time.” “I love you.” I shouted, “I love you, too.”

Driving to work I again had uneasy feelings. Suddenly I began to panic that something was going to happen to me and my husband later in September when we had planned on vacationing in Seattle. I prayed to God not to allow anything to happen to both of us on that trip. This would leave Michael an orphan. Why were all of these morose thoughts dominating my mind?

Around 10:00 a.m. I glanced at the phone on my desk and tossed the idea of giving Michael a call to check on him. I decided that he was now grown and that I needed to start letting go. Should I have called? Would it have made a difference?

Our office was extremely busy that day. So many new students to register for the next school year. Counselors never left the building for lunch during these registration days, let alone stop for lunch. However,

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at exactly 11:15 a.m., I walked from my office across the hall to the counselors’ conference room and announced to the head counselor and assistant principal that perhaps I should go home for lunch. The look on their faces was one of surprise. We were knee-deep in parents and students waiting to register. I quickly evaluated my remarks and began to work on the scheduling board.

I left work at approximately 2:20 p.m. and arrived home at 2:35 p.m. The garage door lifted, but I could not drive into the garage because the left-side drivers door of the car was open. While hollering for Michael to come out and close the car door, I honked the horn repeatedly. When no response was forthcoming I walked into the garage to close the door myself.

What I saw changed my whole life in one instant. Michael’s rigid, stiff body was in a sitting position in the driver’s seat. His fingers were curled, his eyes closed, and his teeth were tightly clenched together in almost a grimace. I felt his stiff body while screaming his name at the top of my lungs. His body was so hard to my touch. My mind knew that he was dead, but my heart fooled me into believing that CPR would bring him back. Why would God allow me to find my only child like this? Was I that strong?

The car’s engine was turned off and the voice mechanism was continually blaring, “the key is in the ignition, the key is in the ignition.” The voice activated when the engine was off and the driver’s door was open. It’s designed to remind the driver not to lock the keys in the car. The “voice” was driving me crazy. I pulled the keys out, placed them on top of the car, and raced into the house to phone 911. Don’t ask me what I said because it was all a blur. After calling, I called my neighbor, Becky, to come over quickly. I also called a close friend and co-worker, Michelle. My heart was throbbing in my chest, my stomach churning. Was I losing my mind? Surely my only son could not be dead!

As planned, John and Gloria arrived for our dinner outing. For some reason they had decided to come early. Their car pulled up just as I placed the phone in the receiver from my last phone call. I ran screaming to them that Michael was dead. Had God sent my husband’s childhood friend, a min-

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ister, to Las Vegas because he knew our son’s time had come? “Oh, God, please help me. I think I am going to lose my mind. I can’t process everything that is happening!”

Becky called Rutledge on his cellular phone because we thought that he would be driving home for our dinner engagement. She hollered into the phone to get home immediately because Michael was dead. I calmly told her not to tell him that because he would not be able to drive. Rutledge arrived, walked right by Michael’s body in the car, seeing and not seeing, and asked, “What is going on?” After he was told he fell into my arms and cried uncontrollably; for some reason I could not cry. I guess shock and denial had set in motion.

Rutledge roamed around the house and patio, banging his fists on the walls and patio beams, calling out our son’s name.

We knew that Michael would not commit suicide, but how could he be overcome by carbon monoxide? He knew the danger. Why would the engine be off, the door open and the windows down if you planned to kill yourself? It made no sense. We finally concluded that he was doing something in the car, got hot, and turned on the engine to use the air conditioner. Since our garage is for three cars, the extra space could cause someone not to think to lift the garage door. In the house I noticed an HBO movie was on the television, the Bible was opened and turned to the Book of Acts, the microwave door open with food still inside.

Michael must have gone inside the house, after he turned on the engine for air, stayed, God only knows how long, and then returned to the car. He must have then shut off the car but the fumes got him. His hands and face indicated the last minute fight to stay alive while slowly drifting into a sleep and death state.

Our poor child. Was this his time to go? Had I been having premonitions all day because this was to be?

Somehow the house began to fill with close friends, my students, present and past, and associate-friends. My brother and his family had been notified and would drive in the next morning from California.

I paced the floor continually, still unable to cry. As the police detectives came and left, and the paramedics rolled Michael’s lifeless body out of the

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garage, I remember staring up at the kitchen ceiling and silently asking God if He had lost His mind. How could He betray us and allow our only child to die? Michael was gifted in music and art, and a brilliant, skillful, and powerful writer. In everyone’s eyes he was a good kid with a promising future. Why didn’t God take a murderer on August 15th, not my son.

Late into the evening John confided to us that he now understood his purpose for being in Las Vegas. It was Michael’s time to leave this earth. He had touched a lot of lives during his seventeen years. John stated that he must have been sent to provide comfort for his childhood friend. He then remarked that God always works in mysterious ways.

As we laid across the bed, in the still of the night, we noticed the blinking light on our telephone answering machine. Our hearts sank as we heard the voice of Selwyn Gill from Montclair, New Jersey, the young man who was to be Michael’s Morehouse roommate. He had left a message earlier in the day for Michael to return his call. Rutledge called and spoke to Selwyn’s mother and told her of our tragedy. Many days later I called Lois Gill and she told me how Selwyn had sat up all night, staring, in total shock. Our sons had met, and become friends, in Atlanta the previous April while attending a five-day seminar for prospective Morehouse students. That was the last that Michael was to see of Morehouse. Man plans, and God smiles.

The days that followed can only be described as awful. So many plans, details, and phone calls. The brand new trunk for school staring at us, empty. How are grieving parents expected to cope with so many arrangements?

Rutledge was in constant motion, frantically occupying his time with funeral details. I felt the need to counsel everyone while hugging them as they walked in our door. I acted like a hostess in a restaurant. My denial was different.

Michael had so many different types of friends – musicians, the artists, his honor student classmates, and the street kids. It was amazing to see so many different types of kids stream into the house. Some knew each other, but many didn’t. How did he manage to keep so many different pockets of friends separate?

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One close friend, Pokey, turned to me and said, “Michael didn’t have any enemies. He did for us, and gave so much of himself, all of the time. He never gossiped about people or looked down on anyone, even though he was fortunate to have so many material things. Michael was so deep too.

We would ask him a question, he would answer, and all we could say was, huh?” Another friend stated that Michael was “regular” also. He was known for his beautiful, sincere, smile.

I remember when Michael graduated from high school in June, a few friends asked him why he had on a white robe. They had no idea that he had been in honor classes and was graduating with honors.

As parents we were always proud that Michael was humble and talked little unless he really had something to say. We would ask him why he always felt the need to help his friends so much. His answer, “I have more, therefore I need to do more.” We would look at each other and remark that Michael was being deep again.

On the evening of August 17th Rutledge revealed to me that a “voice” came into his mind telling him how to plan the funeral. Rutledge was told that we were both to speak at the funeral. He was also told, “You do what you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do.” The plan was not to be questioned. His plan is always perfect. He never makes mistakes. These words would have special meaning in the months to follow.

Somehow we got through the next terrible days. Many of the events that happened are somewhat amusing now. My girlfriend, Gina, spent the night of August 15th on my sofa, refusing to leave us in the house alone until my brother arrived the next morning. She had over-medicated us before we went to the funeral parlor to select a casket and make the arrangements. I promptly fell asleep and began to snore in the office of our funeral director. Rutledge was also over-medicated and nodded off periodically. When he did speak his speech was slurred. Gina frantically attempted to pour coffee into us.

The open-air moving vehicle that the mortuary uses to ride people around

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to select a burial plot was somewhat comical to me at the time. It reminded me of a carnival ride. I loudly protested the heat, fanned myself with my hand, and declared that it didn’t matter where Michael was buried. He was dead, dead, dead, and not returning to us. How wrong I was about his state.

God bless our friend, David, an insurance agent by profession. He insisted on driving us to the mortuary. We later realized that he wanted to ensure that we received fair and honest handling of Michael’s insurance policy.

David would not allow us to take the original copy to the meeting.

When we returned from making the funeral arrangements, Gina was promptly relieved of her medicine dispensing duties by another friend, Alma. Alma was tough! I would request a pill, she would refuse and promise a certain time in the future when I could have another. Later, I finally realized the designated time would never come.

Another girlfriend, Audrey, David’s wife, manned the phones for days. She argued with our doctor about medication and even had to be persuaded to allow relatives to talk to us. Some laughed and called her pushy. Thank God she was. Audrey was on a mission of protection, like a guardian angel with wings spread out across the phones.

Food was arriving in overwhelming amounts from friends, co-workers, and, it seemed, the whole world. My family and friends had to store food in the refrigerators and freezers of our neighbors. Where was it all coming from?

Why were people being so good to us? Perhaps you really do reap what you sow. Perhaps we had been good to some of the people who were now coming to our aid during our time of sorrow.

Joann, Alma, and my sister-in-law, Nina, manned the kitchen, the food, and the overall order of the house. Alma seemed to have an obsession about keeping the white tiles on my kitchen floor clean. Every time I glanced at her she had my mop in her hands. Of course, I spent quite a lot of time watching her because she was the keeper of the elusive medication I never got to take again.

Las Vegas is full of grand hotels and restaurants. Any hotel executive, stepping

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into my kitchen during these days, would have hired Joann, Alma and Nina on the spot. They managed the kitchen like a five-star buffet food court, and the house like a neighborhood sanctuary.

I mostly bounced around the house mumbling to myself, too paralyzed to lift a finger. Joann would occasionally leave her kitchen duties to allow me to sleep on her shoulder, snoring and drooling. When guests arrived she covered my mouth with her hands. That’s friendship!

I still get tickled when I visualize Joann sending my eye doctor to the store for ice, and Nina standing firmly planted in the middle of our front door, scrutinizing some nightly repeat eaters.

Many days I watched through a haze as our friends consumed food. How could they eat? Michael was dead. How could they keep food down? God, this is all madness. Please, God, do something to make this nightmare go away. In the quiet evening hours I realized that most people release their stress, and calm their inner fears, by eating. These were our friends and relatives who were grief stricken over Michael’s death. God and the angels sent them all to provide for, and comfort, us.

We had so much food; one evening my co-counselor, Sandy, and a friend, Linda, risked their safety carrying food to the homeless shelter located in a seedy part of the city. The manager kept the doors open, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the much needed food. Michael’s death had brought us all together in love and friendship. Many homeless people received a decent meal. The thought of it all is very powerful.

On August 20, 1996, at 2:00 p.m., we held the funeral for Michael and called it a Celebration for his Life. The program had a small music note on the cover. Christ Church Episcopal, where Michael served as an acolyte for seven years, was overflowing with people. The balcony, chapel, and courtyard, were all filled as people crowded around the walls. As we entered the church we were overwhelmed with this outpouring of love. As the “voice” had promised, Rutledge and I stood up together and eulogized our son without breaking down. To this day we are convinced that God wanted this celebration to be

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conducted with dignity, strength, and love. God must have sent His angels to keep us on our feet and hold us in their arms.

Gene Nakanishi, Michael’s band director and mentor; Stacie Somers, a family friend and math tutor; and Ipuna Estavillo, one of Michael’s best friends; gave wonderful tributes. Ipuna ended her tribute with a beautiful poem.

The end of the poem related how he had always told her, “If you want to speak with me, talk to my mother. If you want to see me, look at my father.

I am exactly half of my mother, and half of my father.”

Ipuna explained to us later that Michael had made her promise to check in on us while he was at Morehouse. He said that we would be lonely because he was an only child. Ipuna has faithfully kept her promise to Michael, although his final destination was the spirit world, not Morehouse.

The many things that Michael said before he died, what his friends told us of his love and friendship for others, all began to fit together like a large picture puzzle.

Two scenes stand out vividly in my mind. His service was truly multi-national and multi-cultural, the way he lived his life. All of the pall bearers were of different races. This was not planned. We had just asked his close male friends, and our close male friends and relatives, to serve. Secondly, Father Dale, the acolyte supervisor, had tears falling from his eyes as he gave the holy sacrament of communion. He had buried three acolytes in seven years, Aaron, Ian, and now, Michael. Why? Michael served as a pall bearer at Aaron and Ian’s funerals. I discovered that if you take the first letter of each name, it spells I AM. These words are used in the bible when God is asked who He is. “I AM THAT I AM.” Is this meant to be a message?

Over 850 people attended Michael’s celebration. I had worried that people might not come or send flowers. Parents worry about children in life after life as well as in this life.

I shall never forget the actions of two of Michael’s close friends at the burial site. David had bought new drumsticks and laid them crossed on top of

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Michael’s casket. Michael L. refused to leave the burial site for at least an hour. I was told that his whole family stood there with him until Michael’s casket was lowered into the ground, something that is never done while family members are still present.

At least 350 friends and family members came to our home this day. It was all a huge blur until around 6:00 p.m. Cora Lynn, a co-worker, touched me on the shoulder in front of the fireplace. She had just arrived and was visibly excited. After stopping at a local 7-Eleven to look up our phone number, she soon discovered that our number was unlisted. Discouraged, she went to her car and discovered that she had locked her car with the keys in the ignition. She controlled her initial alarm as a young, tall, thin, white male, of questionable appearance, approached her. He asked if she needed help.

He then placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be your guardian angel with wings today and help you.” Somehow he unlocked the car and gave her directions to my house. As she sat in the car she turned to thank him but he had disappeared. He had not driven up in a car, and not enough time had elapsed for him to have completely walked out of sight.

Cora looked in all directions for her good Samaritan.

She then told me not to worry about Michael because he was fine. Was this a message from God? Because Cora is a very spiritual woman, what better person to experience this miracle, a person with enough spirituality to believe.

I was happy and overwhelmed. As I shared the story later with Nina, I suddenly realized that Cora had told the story in front of my fireplace mantle which held an African American male angel figurine dressed in white. The angel has his arm around a little African American girl who is crying. The figurine is called Michael and Kim. I usually stored this figurine away after the holidays. Why had I left it in place until August? Nina felt as though we had been given a sign. I did too! This was one of many more signs to come.

August of 1996 was the most difficult month of our entire lives. I am still amazed that we lived through the events from August 15th through August 31st. The acts of kindness, comfort, and sharing were abundant.

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We talked with many people and co-workers who also had lost a child or children. I guess it was the first time we realized that we were not alone.

How could we work with so many of these people and never learn of their private grief? Many said that after a while you learn not to talk of your loss or the pain. One friend held our hands and said that we now belonged to a very special fraternity, one other people don’t want to join. He was so right.

We, the bereaved parents, are every other parents’ worst nightmare.

Michael had won one of the Southern Nevada Teachers of English Scholarships. I can still see many of the English teachers from around the city sitting around our dining room table. One teacher gave me books of stamps, a useful gift for the many mounting stacks of letters and cards. Many years ago I taught her son, now a Harvard graduate, in seventh grade honors English. Our lives were really beginning to reconnect once again.

My Delta Sigma Theta sorority sisters emerged from everywhere to assist us.

They generously donated the scholarship money, already won by Michael, to the Michael Evans Rutledge Memorial Scholarship Fund set up at Chaparral High School. My school principal, assistants, counselors, staff, and teachers, worked hand in hand with Rutledge’s staff. Our church guild, relatives, and close friends, all came together, operating like a well-oiled machine.

God exists. He exists in each and every one of us. We saw Him in each person as they worked, provided, and comforted.

Our close friends, Alice and John, drove in with their two daughters from San Diego. Imagine our shock when they had twenty dinners delivered from an Italian restaurant. God exists.

As the next eleven months of miracles unfolded, I talked with Alice on the average of three times a week. She provided long distance support and encouragement many times when I was on the brink of an emotional collapse. Later she revealed to me that Michael had come to her in voice, with a message, the day after he died. She was in the slowly forming loop of friends that would experience first hand signs from Michael, with God’s help. God exists.

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Finding Feathers

September, 1996 Rutledge told me that he had a dream, two weeks before Michael’s death, that he had judged as unimportant, but real strange. He dreamed that many relatives and friends from all over the U.S. were on our patio, laughing and having a good time. Rutledge’s sister made a remark that he could not remember. When he awoke, he reasoned that we were not having a family reunion and dismissed all thoughts of the dream from his mind. Two days after we buried Michael, most of these same people were on our patio. His sister made the same remark that he couldn’t remember from his dream. It never crossed his mind initially that Michael was the only one missing from the scene. Was this a forewarning, another set of premonitions that we had ignored?

Two weeks after we buried Michael, Rutledge returned to work. He said he had a school to run. I went back to work for two days, left early both days, deciding I couldn’t handle being around 3,400 live teenagers on a high school campus. Talk about having reminders shoved in your face! God must really hate me. How can I remain a high school counselor after my loss? I immediately requested sick leave until November 1st.

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A member of our church gave us a copy of the Bereaved Parents of Southern Nevada Newsletter. What a Godsend. We were so lost and so hollow inside.

We knew that we desperately needed to be with others who had experienced our pain. You have to know at this point that you are not alone, and that God is not picking on you.

We nervously attended our first group meeting in a room off of the cafeteria in a local hospital. As we walked into the room we could feel the eyes of the hospital staff on our backs, pitying us. It is amazing how people, who know you have lost a child, divert their eyes in another direction when they see you.

Group was such a welcome reality check. We lit candles, opened with a creed, and bonded with our new fraternity. We related to the discussions of feeling lonely, empty, and abused. The continual questions in our minds of “Why my child” subsided for at least those two hours. Many discussions abounded with stories of how we wished to die and be with our child. We had felt guilty about thinking that way until we heard others verbalize our very thoughts. The insensitive remarks of friends, family, and acquaintances was a favorite topic. We had a few horror stories of our own. We all hated the grieving catch phrases used by others. The most commonly used phrases were “Snap out of it,” “Get over it,” “Don’t dwell on it,” “Don’t think about it” (yea, right), “Life goes on,” “Get involved with other children,” “Whatever gets you through the day!”

Many days I had prayed for a terminal illness. I had made up my mind that I would refuse any recommended treatment. My favorite fantasy was being in a horrible automobile accident and refusing treatment or ambulance service.

Our response is, we will never get over it. Perhaps we will work our way through our grief. Please don’t ask us not to think of a child we loved dearly.

When you lose a child you think of that child, and the loss, almost every waking hour. We are not ready to, nor are we interested in, replacing our child with yours or someone else’s child. Please stop telling us that we are so strong. We are not any stronger than you are. Our options have just been defined for us.

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We are not interested in the luxury items you have recently bought because our child “checked out,” although we understand that you are scared to death you will be in our shoes within the next few minutes. To all of the “hurry up and heal” people, we are doing the best that we can at the moment. Sometimes it takes all day just to get enough strength to get out of our beds. Don’t try to involve us in your daily problems, because they appear trivial to us compared to our loss. If you must write us notes and caring cards, please don’t make it seem that our child was stupid and that is why the accident occurred. Your views of reality of the accident do not cheer us or comfort us. They make us cry. If you wonder why we have not kept in contact with some of you, it is because we can’t heal around you.

Some of us have lost only children when they were young or in their teens.

Please refrain from talking excessively about your darling grandchildren for a while. Your words, in the early months, are like a stab in the heart. We will never be grandparents. If you cannot think of anything to say when you see us, try saying simply that you are sorry for our loss, or say nothing at all. A simple touch on the shoulder, or a hug, will get the message across.

Our daily lives had changed so much. Rutledge seemed able to muster up enough energy to workout a few times at the athletic club. Men grieve just as hard and long as women, but I’m learning that they grieve in a different way. Besides, for some reason, everybody pays more attention to a grieving mother. I’ve learned that many men are resentful about the lack of attention given to them. They also hurt deeply.

I wished I had enough strength to exercise, but all I wanted to do was sleep, sleep, sleep. Grieving is very exhausting, emotionally and physically. Sleep helps us escape from reality and, hopefully, our child will appear to us in a dream.

A dear friend and co-worker, who lost her child two years earlier, made a profound statement to me one day. She explained that the damage done to a parents’ emotions when they lose a child is equal to the damage that you incur from a traumatic physical injury or illness. The difference is that you would be placed in intensive care for your physical injury or illness. Hospitals don’t have intensive care units for emotions, although that

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is where most of us need to be placed.

I realized I was drinking too much wine in the morning. Because I felt everyone was staring at me, while I secretly hated all of them for going on with their lives, I couldn’t seem to venture off my street. I knew I had to stop rocking on the bed, saying the Lord’s Prayer over and over, until sleep came, or later, moving to the family room sofa where I held Michael’s favorite quilt while trying to smell his presence. The sadness in my husband’s eyes was killing me slowly. Where did I read that a man’s son is the window to his soul?

Ipuna called to say that the local radio station had been dedicating songs to Presto (Michael’s music name) most of Friday evening. She said that she became so emotional that she pulled her car to the side of the road crying. Feeling the need to visit Michael’s grave, she drove to the cemetery when a small white feather flew in the car window. She knew instinctively it was from Michael, trying to comfort her. At the grave site a flock of blackbirds flew straight up into the sky leaving a trail of white feathers at her feet. Both Rutledge and I felt Michael’s presence as if someone was staring at us, but no feathers.

The next day I found a large feather on our kitchen floor in front of the refrigerator and one in the mailbox between our letters. Could this be the first sign from Michael? It couldn’t be dismissed – Ipuna had just told us about her feathers.

Feathers soon began to appear daily to friends and relatives in the strangest places, usually from inside their homes. Joann received a feather in her hair as she drove to my house, Mary Alyce called the same night to say she had found one in front of her sink. I called Alice in San Diego and she gasped as she related how a feather had flown in her face while on lunch duty at work at her school. When I called my brother and sister-in-law to tell them about the feathers, they received five on the patio as we spoke. My neighbor, Becky, received three in the driveway. One flew on her son Greg’s windshield as he was driving. The phone was ringing off the hook. Audrey received a feather on her patio. Rutledge’s ex-secretary received two dancing on the water of her pool. Michael’s godparents, in Washington, D.C.,

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found feathers in various rooms in their home, one on the bottom of their daughter’s shoe. Our friends and relatives received more feathers than we did. Of course, if all of the feathers had come to just us, people would say that we were grieving parents with vivid imaginations. Any sign to a grieving parent is a sign of hope that their child is okay, that God loves them, as well as providing comfort.

Around the time the feathers were appearing to us, we began to hear distinct drum beats in the house. Often times other people were present when the slow, steady beats would sound out. Michael was the lead drummer and percussionist for the Chaparral High School Band for four years.

We began to notice that feathers would come out of nowhere if we were particularly depressed. Our friends would receive a feather if they comforted us or contacted us. Michael’s friends were calling, telling of finding feathers in their locked cars, in their homes, and dropping from the sky at their feet.

Little did we realize that this was just the beginning of many spiritual things to happen. God cares about our sorrow.

Michael came to Joann in voice and told her over and over, “811, 811.” We frantically checked the bible verses and anything relating to making sense of 811. Finally, Michael’s godfather in D.C., remarked that Michael wanted Joann to continue spending the hours from eight until eleven a.m. each weekday morning with me. Her job started at 11:00 a.m. Joann had lost a son five years ago. She knew I needed a reason for getting out of bed. Many days the only reason I did rise was because Joann would be at the door, leaning on the bell.

Rutledge and I took the trip to Seattle that I was worrying about so much on the day that Michael died. We secretly hoped the plane would crash and put us out of our misery. Any turbulence at all caused us to smile and our eyes to brighten. God knows the bereaved’s thoughts.

Seattle was difficult because our last trip there we had spent as a family of three. Perhaps we should have cancelled. We foolishly stayed in the same hotel and spent many dinners looking at each other across the table crying.

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Walking down Pike Street Rutledge found three feathers of varying lengths.

When you put them together they resembled a family unit of three. Were we imagining all of these signs?

On the last evening of our stay in Seattle, a young man stopped us on our way to the hotel. He told me he was thirty cents short of what he needed to catch the ferry. His smile fascinated me because it was beautiful, even though he didn’t have top teeth. He was crippled. For some reason he reminded me of Michael. Don’t ask me why. There was just something about the essence of this man. Rutledge gave him money and we proceeded to cross the street. We turned to glance at the man, but he had disappeared.

This was the second disappearance. He was crippled and could not move that quickly out of our sight.

Michael was the type of kid that would always give part of his vacation money to the homeless he saw as we traveled. Sometimes he gave to the down and out he found in Las Vegas. He was twelve when we last visited Seattle together. He gave $10.00 to a homeless woman on the street. In New York he gave $5.00 to a homeless man. While on a bus tour an older man cautioned him about his generosity. Michael said, “Sir, that man could be Jesus.” It was perhaps strange to hear a fourteen year old teenager make that comment. The man looked startled and boarded the bus.

When we returned from Seattle our hearts were still heavy, but we attempted to go through the motions of living. Grieving causes you to do everything in slow motion. Also, we found ourselves sitting around the house, or on the patio, staring into space. Our friends continued to call, and we went out when we could manage to let our bed go. Joann told us that she, Alma, Gina, and Audrey had made a pact to stick with us, keeping in contact when others slacked off. God exists in good friends.

Rutledge finally revealed to me that Michael had visited in a dream the last night we had spent in Seattle. My excitement caused me to feel as though my head would explode. In the dream Rutledge was sitting in our computer room. Michael stopped at the door and said, “Hi, Dad, I am sorry about what happened to me, but I am so happy.” Rutledge told Michael that we

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loved and missed him, and they embraced. Michael was dressed, as usual, in jeans and a Tee-shirt. Rutledge then said he was going to get me from the other room. Michael smiled, stuck his hand out as if to say no, and disappeared. I was curious as to why Michael could not see me. I would find out the answer many months later. Rutledge had waited to tell me about the dream because he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Why do children visit their fathers and friends before their own mothers?

I was getting concerned about the holidays and called a friend in Nashville, Tennessee, to see if we could visit over the Thanksgiving weekend. As Sandra and I talked about Michael and the feathers, she told me suddenly to be quiet. She looked as her television screen had turned to a Mario Brothers video game. An old man in a white robe with wings was running around the screen. Sandra and I believed it was another of the many signs from Michael. The last time Sandra saw Michael he was fourteen and really into video games.

September 23rd was a day we dreaded. It would have been our son’s eighteenth birthday. He was so looking forward to that day. The day turned out to be inspirational and calming. A former classmate dropped by the house and gave us a beautiful letter she had written describing her friendship with Michael and telling us of some of his wonderful qualities. She cried and said that she felt that Michael had saved her life, stopping her car with an invisible shield after the brakes failed. We felt her pain was genuine, knowing she had lost a teenage sister to cancer seven years ago. Close friends treated us to a dinner that evening. We did not visit Michael’s grave.

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Understanding the Master Plan October, 1996 October rolled in and our daily routine was much the same. Rutledge ran his school in hidden quietness and sorrow, and I slept as much as possible. I did give up the wine and even started to cook, maybe twice a week. Returning to work was still out of the question for me. I refused to face all of those live teenagers.

Joann’s job was changed to regular hours just around the time I didn’t need her quite as much in the morning. Were her hour changes a coincidence?

God has a master plan, but are all things included, big and small? Does he have that much time for us?

A few times Michael’s face appeared to me while I was sleeping. Usually I would awaken quickly and he would disappear. Why would I behave that way? I desperately wanted a visit from my child. Was I afraid? The few glimpses of Michael encouraged me to sleep even more, hoping for a visit.

Twice when I closed my eyes I briefly saw Michael in his cap and gown smiling and blowing red X’s toward me. I didn’t understand my behavior.

Please, God, let me sleep long hours today so I can be with Michael.

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My principal, and two of the assistants, would call and check on us almost weekly. A few parents also called periodically to provide comfort and listen to me ramble on obsessively about Michael, the feathers, and other miracles. I’m sure I overwhelmed them because I was overwhelming myself.

Parents feel the need to make sense of their child’s death. However, from the beginning, Rutledge and I somehow knew that it had been Michael’s time to move on. We never became angry with God. This was unusual for me, because I always tended to rant and rave at the ceiling whenever situations didn’t turn out to my liking. Many times, when I told others that it was Michael’s time, they would fall silent and look at me like I was losing it.

It is amazing how so few people believe that most things happen according to God’s plan. Perhaps because Michael was only seventeen. The Bible never says that everyone will be 90 years old and die in their sleep. Why do most people, Americans in particular, feel that you should be old when you die?

It is a serious form of denial. Why wouldn’t God want people of all ages in the next life?

Our friends continued to call to tell us about the continuing strange events.

Linda spoke of an Albino pigeon staring at her from her roof until she called me from her patio. She did not see the pigeon arrive or leave. Joann and Becky both called within the same week to tell us of a mysterious, beautiful, white breasted, roadrunner that would appear at their doors or in their yards. The bird would stare at them until they called us. Within two days I saw a white breasted roadrunner sitting on the wall between my house and the neighbors, just staring at our house. Later the same day the roadrunner peered in our patio door, scurried off, and glanced back. Was the bird sent to watch over us?

Joann’s youngest son, DeRon, is our godchild. He is ADD and has always encountered difficulties with his school work. He never earned more than D’s or D+’s, regardless of how much time he invested in his studies. One afternoon he found a beautiful, long, black feather on their patio. He says that for some reason he chose to save this feather in a special place in his room. Within three days DeRon started earning mostly A’s in English and then, gradually, all A’s and B’s on his report card. His teachers were spell-

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bound and reported that he seemed to have developed a deep understanding for subjects and a photographic memory. DeRon stated that all of a sudden his class work was easy. You can imagine what this did for his selfesteem. We attributed everything to God allowing Michael to help DeRon, and providing another miracle for all to believe. Remember, Michael’s best academic subject was English. DeRon became Student of the Month at his junior high within a short period of time. God exists.

I felt the need to visit Bonnie, a deacon at Christ Church, to tell her of all the events since Michael’s death. We had given a sum of money to the acolyte fund. She was shocked to hear about the feathers and delighted to hear of DeRon’s transformation. The money that we gave was divided equally into three funds. Bonnie became quiet and stated that she had donated her share to the Eppy Center, a new center opened to help ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) children and ADHD children. She asked, “Do you suppose that Michael told me to donate that money to this particular cause?” Anything is possible. I had learned to just accept everything that was happening.

We then went into a deep discussion about the number of 3’s and 7’s that dominated Michael’s life. God frequently uses these numbers in His works in the Bible. Michael’s father’s birthday is 3/7 and my husband’s mother had the same birthday. My birthday is 3/22 which adds up to 7. Michael was the third acolyte to die in seven years. He was seventeen years of age at death.

He was born three weeks after my mother passed in the year 1978. He died exactly seven days before was to leave for Morehouse College. We agreed that the above was more than coincidence. Boy, was that an understatement, considering the miracles that would unfold in the next ten months.

October 29th Alice called to say that she and John both found feathers on their pillows two days apart. Why would feathers be in their bedroom? We agreed that if John was ever skeptical about the feathers before, he wasn’t now.

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Returning to Work

November, 1996 On the first Monday in November I returned to work as planned. Walking into a high school campus is very difficult when you have just lost your teenage child. I noticed that I walked with my head down a lot, and that day I stared at the ground most of my steps into the main building. Parents feel that they should be able to do something to keep their children alive.

As I walked into the teacher’s mail room I was so conscious of all eyes focused on me and my every move. I was overwhelmed by the hugs and kisses I received while walking down the hallway to my office. My mind was racing. The sheer thought of tackling the paperwork, seeing students again, and functioning, made me exhausted by 7:15 a.m.

My fellow counselors had done much of my work for me, along with the substitute counselor hired by the school district. The counselors, and my secretary, Carol, were all so kind and compassionate. It was obvious that they were at a loss for words. Some nervously chattered on about other things I would have been interested in before August 15th. Gossip, work related problems, future plans, did not interest me at all. Why should they?

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I don’t have a future. I’m just breathing. Perhaps parents wrap too much of their own lives around the lives of their children.

Throughout the next two weeks, and most of December, I could not seem to complete a whole workday. I cried easily and, at times, became almost hysterical in my office, with my shoulders heaving up and down. New situations and decisions stumped me. Should I remove his pictures from my desk? Suppose a new parent asks me if I have children? Am I still a mother?

God, please get me through this mess. Concentrating was almost impossible because my student’s problems seemed trivial and unimportant.

Many friends were still receiving feathers, and I received a few, especially when I was extremely depressed. Depression for us was now a way of life.

Our emotions and minds needed so much rest, and our whole being was exhausted. Rutledge claimed to feel Michael’s presence constantly while driving the car. I could tell that he had been crying many times when he arrived home from work. We learned at group that it is extremely dangerous to cry while driving the car. The strength to focus on worrying about Rutledge being involved in an accident was something I didn’t have. Therefore, I dismissed thoughts of another possible tragedy from my mind.

November 11th was a very exciting day for us. Ipuna called to tell us that she believed that she received a computer message from Michael. She explained that she had been typing a paper late at night on her computer. She left the computer for a few minutes. When she returned the word angel had been typed under the last typed line. Ipuna deleted the word and completed her paper. When she awoke the next morning, Michael came to her in voice and said “Go to the angel file on the computer.” Her sister, Sonyo, had set up a file under Angel, but only her poetry could be found there. Michael then said, “Check the angel file in the trash box of the hard drive.” Ipuna was shocked at what she saw. The computer printed out the message and indicated that it was not programmed to produce the text as printed. It took five people over a period of two weeks to decipher. The message was so inspirational. The message decoded says, Angel messenger, Michael Rutledge. All of my questions have been answered 100%. Read the seventh book of the New Testament (Corinthians I), Chapter 15. This Bible verse talks about life after life, the spirit world, and how all of us will one day be with our loved ones.

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Rutledge and I thanked God for this message from our son on life after life.

It is really true that God does provide comfort, and maybe some joy will be experienced by us again in our life. We lived on the emotions of receiving this message for days. There was no question in our mind that the words were from Michael.

He was a very deep person, and it was so like him to code a message. God exists.

Reading books on life after life, and death experiences, began to consume most of my time outside of work. I had to have some idea of my son’s existence in another dimension. Rutledge didn’t seem to need the assurance.

He quietly accepted God’s plans for us. As I devoured these books, I began to share them with Joann who had lost her thirty year old son five years ago.

She had never grieved for Gene. She was angry at the way he had lived and died. When Michael died she was ready to grieve for both children.

We stopped going to group because so many miracles were happening in our lives that didn’t appear to be happening with other group members.

We wanted to share with them, but felt guilty and uncomfortable about mentioning our blessings. Our group leader was the person who had led me in the direction of the first book I read. She said it detailed the many messages received by parents from their children who had passed on to another life. After reading the first few books, I would walk into a bookstore and somehow know which books to choose and the order in which I should read them. Was I receiving more direction from Michael, with the help of God? November 13th was a truly wonderful day for us. I walked out of school depressed, as usual. I looked up to cross the street to the parking lot and saw Shirley. Shirley is the mother of one of Michael’s best friends, David. David and Michael had met in the third grade, became drummers together in the sixth grade, and played in the band together all through high school. Shirley is a very spiritual person and we talked briefly about a recent personal miracle that she had experienced concerning her health. She told me that Michael had come to her one morning while she was in the bathroom. He appeared, full body, and said, “Hi, Mrs. Lizotte.” Michael told her that he was doing fine and loved us. Shirley revealed that she had always been able to see her passed on father. Do our loved ones contact people they have known on earth that have clairvoyant powers? They must want to inform us of

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their well being any way possible. God is good. God exists.

Michael appeared to Shirley two weeks after he died in August. I asked her why she waited so long to tell us of this experience. She said that she didn’t want to upset us if Michael had not visited with us yet. Later that night she called and excitedly reported that she found a beautiful white feather in some towels she was folding directly out of the dryer. We know the feather was from Michael, with God’s help. I told her that Michael knew that she had finally told us of his visit. He was merely thanking her. Can the spirit world watch us?

Selwyn called from Morehouse to tell us that Michael had come to him in two dreams. He also felt Michael’s presence sometimes in the dorm room.

We discussed the memorial service that Morehouse had for Michael during freshman orientation. They remembered our son.

We flew to Nashville, Tennessee, to spend the Thanksgiving holidays. It was wonderful to be with close friends on one of the many holiday firsts that we had to learn to endure without Michael. I broke down crying during the middle of the meal and retreated to the bathroom with my girlfriend close behind. Rutledge and I were both in our “I don’t care” stages and secretly prayed the plane would crash, saving everyone but us, on the way back to Vegas. Imagine our delight when we encountered a driving rain as we boarded the plane to return home. After climbing above the storm the plane ride was so smooth we actually became disgusted. God knows your heart.

Our answering machine was full of holiday greetings from our friends and Michael’s friends. We knew Ipuna would call, but were floored by the other teenagers who took the time to remember us. Selwyn left a message to call him at Morehouse. When we contacted him the next day he was calm, yet amazed. He said that after our conversation before the holiday, a feather dropped out of the sky to his feet while walking out of the dorm with two friends, Brian and Carl. I had talked with both of them this past summer.

Michael and the others had met last April and agreed to be together at Morehouse in the fall. Selwyn said that when he picked up the feather, it was actually three feathers stuck together. He might have been skeptical about my feather stories before, but he was definitely a believer now.

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Escaping Reality & Holiday Cheer

December, 1996 December arrived and I had been back to school one month. My usual pattern of behavior was still the same. Everyday I would arrive at work, force myself to concentrate, leave early around 10:30 or 11:00 a.m., go home, and take to the bed. Both of us were still sleeping too much, and my lounging pajamas were raggedy. I wore them more than my street clothes.

We refused many social engagements because the old memories of everyone’s family intact devastated us. We were jealous of our friends, their children, and their lives. Social engagements would rub the pain in our faces.

Rutledge and I prayed continually for strength and understanding. The holidays were fast approaching and we dreaded the thought. We had bought plane tickets for Thanksgiving and Christmas for Michael to come home from Atlanta. God, please help me. All of my students who graduated in June would be dropping by my office wearing their college sweatshirts. I’d smile and say the counselor thing, but my heart would be breaking in two.

Michael, no doubt, would have been proudly wearing a Morehouse sweatshirt. My problem was solved by leaving early. Teenagers sleep late when

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they come home. I screened my home phone calls.

November and December are the months when high school counselors are extremely busy filling out college forms and typing letters of recommendation.

For a few months now we had learned to distinguish when Michael would be speaking to us telepathically. He would speak to our minds in the same manner, and with the same expression, he used in life. Many times I would be composing and typing letters for my students with tears streaming down my cheeks. Michael would come to me and say, “Just keep typing, Mom.” We had just been through all of the college and scholarship stuff with Michael.

We were numb. All the hopes and dreams destroyed. God and the guardian angels must be working overtime with us. We were a mess!

Many days I just wanted to scream, lash out, and slap someone. No reason, just rage over what had destroyed us. We wanted our family back. We read the Bible frantically looking for answers. Church was difficult to attend because I would cry through most of the service. When I saw the church all I could think of was the many years Michael served the altar and his celebration service. Sometimes I felt that I couldn’t breathe. Bereaved parents sigh quite a bit because they need extra oxygen at times.

The holiday cheer in the city, on television, at work, everywhere, was killing us. The colorful Christmas outfits being worn around school by my co-workers enraged me on a daily basis. How could they be happy? Michael was gone. I was so unrealistic those days, and Rutledge was so quiet, hurt, and sad. He revealed that he felt God had betrayed and abused us. We really were decent parents. Why were we being punished? Months later we realized that God had a master plan and that He truly did love us, still He works in very mysterious ways.

We escaped to Washington, D.C., to visit with our good friends and Michael’s godparents, Carol and Tommy and their daughters. We lived in D.C. the first five years of our marriage. We did our best to be human, and they understood our hurts and grumpiness. Michael was in full swing during the holidays. Everyone felt his presence. Of course, many feathers were found,

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and his picture moved to another position on the end table, comically in front of one of the daughter’s pictures. I had read that our loved ones try to spend more time with us during holidays and special days.

Daily reading in D.C. was my salvation. I felt that Michael was shadowing me and knew exactly what I was reading. The events that followed in January lead me to believe that I was not imagining Michael’s resolve, with the help of God, to comfort us. D.C. was wonderful for an escape, however, we had forgotten how many tall, African American males live in the city and the surrounding areas. Everywhere we turned we saw many Michaels. Our hearts and spirits were almost to our feet as we flew the perfectly smooth flight back to Las Vegas. Were we going to be miserable the rest of our lives? If so, take us out now!

We returned to Las Vegas the evening of December 30th, the evening before another holiday. Our answering machine was again filled with holiday wishes from many friends and a host of Michael’s close buddies. Our delight was heightened further when we found a feather on the patio that same evening.

We always seemed to receive a feather when we returned from a trip.

New Years’ Eve was just another miserable holiday night to us. Since we had turned down various social invitations we retired for the evening early.

Maybe 1997 would be happier.

Around 2:00 a.m. Rutledge woke me in the middle of the night to tell me that he had a visit from Michael. Rutledge was so excited, and we moved to the kitchen table to hash and rehash everything. He told me he had seen Michael sitting on our kitchen counter. Michael said that he missed us and loved us both. Rutledge described Michael as looking perfect, although he was dressed in a filthy blue poncho and had dust and dirt on his face.

Michael said, “I’m tired of these dirty clothes. What difference does it make?” Rutledge was then given the impression in his mind that Michael had a beautiful white gown to wear whenever he wanted. Michael then held up his wrists to take off the gold bracelet that he always wore. Rutledge had bought the bracelet for Michael two years before, the same time he had bought one for himself.

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Rutledge then said to Michael, “What are you doing with the bracelet? I gave it to your cousin, Brandon.”

Michael took off the bracelet and hung it on the kitchen cabinet. He said with a smile on his face, “It’s not important.”

I am in this visit, and Rutledge relates that I ask Michael six or seven questions. Rutledge is so busy concentrating on how brand new and wonderfully real Michael looks he does not hear my questions, or remember Michael’s answers. Rutledge is saying that Michael looks so happy, calm, and peaceful.

No stress is visible on his face.

Later Rutledge remembers one question that I asked.

I said, “Michael, why does God allow so many people to die in storms, hurricanes, tornadoes, and floods?”

Michael answered, “God does not cause those things, not really. It is a form of population control. People need to know that death is not painful.”

Rutledge then asked Michael to show him his autopsy incision. He said that Michael lifted his shirt and laughed, his body was perfect. He appeared in full life after life form.

Rutledge told Michael that he looked busy.

Michael said, “I am so busy, Dad.” Rutledge asked why he does not visit us more.

Michael said, “I am with you and Mom more than you know. You just can’t see me.”

Michael’s body started to fade out at the top and, in desperation, Rutledge grabbed his legs.

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Michael laughed and said, “Dad, the rest of my body is going to fade too.”

Rutledge asked him not to leave. Michael stated that he must go back, but he would return.

Our joy was overwhelming. God had again given us enough to make it through a few more days. We discussed how Michael seemed always to give some type of information in his visits with his father. I found it strange that my questions would concern the weather patterns. Did I bury some of his other answers in my subconscious? I remembered reading that God has those in the spirit world help cross people over from our world at their time of death. No one crosses over alone and, usually, family members are there to greet the new souls. Whenever a huge disaster occurs on earth many others from the spirit world are required to assist. Why was Michael dressed in a filthy poncho? Was he involved in helping cross over souls in South America? Anything is possible. It seemed that every time I read something in a book, it was verified. Recently I felt that I was being led to read and think deeply about everything I was experiencing on a day-to-day basis.

Although I was happy to live through Rutledge’s visit, I wanted my own.

Why had he not appeared to me so vividly? Many months later the answer to this question would be revealed.

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Back to School

January, 1997 School reopened after the holidays and I pulled myself out of bed each day to face my round of depressing duties for other people’s children. Wellmeaning people kept telling me that my joy would return by helping other children. Yea, right, all I felt was jealousy and resentment that my child was gone. I continually asked God, with head positioned toward the ceiling, what would it have hurt to allow Michael to live?

Daily I was still sleeping too much. Of course, I was trying to wish a visit from my son. I just wanted to hold him and talk with him. Please, God. Crying periodically throughout the day became so natural. I cried in the car, at work, at the store, at the hair dresser, walking to the mailbox, everywhere. I was so sick and tired of being upset, miserable, jealous, and just me.

My secretary came into my office and shut the door one morning a few days after the Christmas vacation. Carol told me that Michael appeared to her in a dream. In the dream he was floating in the sky above Lake Mead. He was dressed in a beautiful white gown and smiling down on me and Rutledge. I was eating on a table in the middle of the lake. Rutledge was sitting on the

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beach shore. Michael kept smiling first at his father and then at me in the lake, glancing back and forth. The glow around his head turned the water and sand green as he moved his head from one to the other. Carol made my day. However, I couldn’t understand why Michael still had not appeared to me, his mother. Tears form in Carol’s eyes because she felt that something was telling her that for now I must see him through her eyes. She didn’t realize how right she was.

January 5th was awful. Amber Robey, a Green Valley High School projected valedictorian, and a National Merit Scholar, died in a freak car accident while riding home from a date. The police, to this day, can not explain how it happened.

School personnel, and many students, were very upset. Her senseless death brought Michael’s death to the very tip of my heart and to the forefront of my mind. Amber’s sister, Jenna, was my counselee. God, why are you so heartless and cruel? How am I supposed to help Jenna and her friends get through this? I was still such a wreck over my own loss. Why are you burdening me?

Amber’s mother, Andrea, called me the next morning and asked if she could come to my office to talk. She knew about Michael, especially since I was Jenna’s counselor. My boss, Betty, who was daily supporting me, comforting me, and sometimes crying with me behind her closed door, suggested that I visit Andrea in her home. Suddenly I had a purpose. I rushed home and gathered up some grief materials, a copy of the poem read at Michael’s celebration, and a copy of the celebration program.

Andrea was waiting for me outside of her condo. As I pulled up I saw myself. I am African American and Episcopalian, Andrea is Caucasian and Catholic. We both looked the same – devastated. We were mothers joined by a common bond and thread of emotions, unbearable grief, and questions. Why? Why my child?

Andrea and I had met only a few times before Amber’s accident. Jenna is an Honors Student, as her sister was, and never needed too much hands on guidance. Actually, I didn’t remember Andrea. She looked so frail and helpless. How could I help her? We sat at her kitchen table for at least two hours

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reviewing funeral arrangements, our feelings, and our misery. I showed her Michael’s graduation picture. She showed me Amber’s recently taken graduation pictures. We talked of their intellect, their promising futures, and together cried like babies.

After this meeting we talked almost daily about funeral arrangements. I shared my grief books and materials with her. I recommended that she try to find the strength to get up and speak about Amber at the funeral. Andrea told me that she understood why I could not attend the memorial service for her daughter. Another seventeen year old gone; too soon for me to bear.

The next few weeks were spent counselling Jenna, keeping up Andrea’s spirits, and helping the students assigned within my alphabet to accept the loss of their close friend. When a teenager dies, other teens either go into denial, or attempt to grieve also. Their underlying fear is that they might die also.

The theory of the invincible young person, who never has anything happen to them, has been proven to be false. Reality slaps them square in the face.

It is forefront in their young minds that, as the Bible states, death can come calling like a thief in the night.

Many days I would shut my door with some of Amber’s close friends and we would cry together. It was healing for all of us. A few were recommended for additional counseling. As the days passed, I actually began to feel better because I had been drawn outside my own grief to help others. God works in mysterious ways. What I perceived as an additional burden from Him was now, strangely, beginning to seem like a blessing. What a mighty plan God weaves.

I felt so sorry for the students, parents, and my co-workers with children. You could see on their faces that they were scared to death every time they looked at me or thought of Amber. I saw this especially with Amber’s teachers. Andrea and I talked about how our children touched many lives with their deaths.

Gene Nakanishi called one day to tell me that the band members, and band parents, at Chaparral High School, had decided to name part of the band room in Michael’s honor. He said he would call with the details later. How wonderful. Since Michael’s death five trees had been planted in his name,

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one at a local junior high school where he worked in a recreation program the past two summers. The tree had a beautiful plaque beneath it calling him an inspiration. A yearly scholarship fund had been set up in Michael’s name earlier for Chaparral students who excelled in the fine arts, performing arts, and/or English. Thousands of dollars had already accumulated in the fund. Green Valley High School, and Rutledge’s school, Cashman Middle School, gave significant amounts. Sandy, the Sunshine Fund distributor and reception organizer; and Cynthia, the librarian at Green Valley High School, had donated two books on African American’s contributions to jazz, in memory of Michael, for the school library. God shows his love and works through his children.

January 16th was another devastating day for me. Bill Cosby’s son, Ennis, was murdered in Los Angeles. I immediately began to relate to the grief of the Cosby family. Dr. Cosby had that same look in his eyes that I had seen in my husband’s eyes. He had just lost his son. The constant news coverage freaked me out, especially all of the talk of Morehouse and Ennis’s bright future. I guess God doesn’t want junk in heaven, because he sure is allowing a lot of good kids to die. Michael and Ennis were both known for their humble nature and beautiful smile. The picture of Ennis in Time magazine, taken when he graduated from Morehouse, looks similar to Michael’s graduation picture. I take to the bed again.

My job was still so hard for me. Now I was staying for the entire workday, but I still cried when certain school events took place. The assemblies, with all of the music, become unbearable for me to attend. Some people had expected me to start cheering up since five months had passed. They have no idea, not a clue, about what bereaved parents face. I doubled up at home and screamed at God that I wanted Michael back.

Gene Nakanishi called me again to tell me something about the band dedication. He mentioned another young man, Jonathan Wilson, who died on July 28th in a car accident. Jonathan was fifteen and had also attended Chaparral High School. He was an outstanding soccer player. Since Jonathan’s death, four other Chaparral High students had died, including Michael. A light bulb went off in my head. Joyce Wilson, Michael’s senior year honors physiology teacher,

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was Jonathan’s mother. She went to Michael’s celebration and told me at the reception that she knew what I was going through. She said that she had just lost her son and granddaughter a few weeks earlier. How could I have forgotten that? I remembered that we hugged each other. The numbness of grief perhaps stood in the way of my remembering this information. I vowed to contact her so that she could wail and wallow with me and Andrea. Misery loves company.

More and more connections were forming. Mr. Wilson, Sam, worked as a math teacher at another school where Rutledge used to be principal. God’s weave was getting wider and tighter.

The Martin Luther King holiday rolled around and we decided that we should visit my brother, Rhodes, and his family in California. He had recently been promoted to an assistant principalship in a high school. I had been too busy grieving to take note of his accomplishment, or even offer congratulations.

While in California we attended a basketball game to watch my eleven year old nephew show his stuff. The memories of Michael also playing on a recreational basketball team at that age were too much for me. I left the game twice, and cried on the patio when we returned home. Our loved ones who have passed on see our distress. Two beautiful white feathers floated out of the sky onto the concrete. One feather floated down on my left side, and the other floated down on the right of Rutledge. Michael, with the help of God, was again comforting our family.

My school mailbox was filled with a beautifully wrapped gift one day. A friend I had taught with many years ago sent me a copy of a picture of an angel. The picture was taken by a bereaved mother after the loss of her daughter. This mother was merely taking a picture of the clouds one day in her backyard. When it was developed anyone could clearly see a beautiful angel in white with a choir of angels in the foreground. I called Jan to thank her and also sent a note. Little did I realize that Jan would soon be drawn into the ever forming loop being connected by God. The next week Jan loaned me a book entitled, Thy Son Liveth. It is the story of a young man that died in a war and communicated with his mother from

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the spirit world by Morse code and telepathy. His mother wrote and published a book in 1919. So much of what this young man told of would be witnessed by me, my husband, and our friends in THE LOOP. Jan revealed to me many times that something kept telling her to loan this book to us.

She had found the copy among her mother’s belongings after her death. The book surfaced again, mysteriously, just when I needed it.

So many unusual things have been happening to us on a weekly basis. We started to feel spirituality enveloping us and our circle of friends. Others are beginning to tell us of feeling Michael’s presence in certain situations.

Dressing one morning for work, Michael told me telepathically to check on a co-worker and give her an angel pin. I was told to tell her that he was with her. Still unsure of my actual reception, I reluctantly followed the directions a few days after I received the message. My co-worker’s eyes filled with tears as I was told of a medical problem that was to be diagnosed after some critical tests were taken. I continually asked Michael if she would be okay.

An answer was never given. Within a few weeks all medical reports were favorable. My colleague had not shared her health concerns with anyone at work. This really confirmed for me that Michael was communicating to me, his father, Ipuna, and others, telepathically. When you receive a message, it always is said in the personality and manner of the person passed on. This discovery was nothing compared to what all of us would experience in the future. Were we being prepared gradually for something?

Rutledge still never felt the need to read the books that I felt Andrea, Joyce, Joann and I were being led to read and share on a weekly basis. Jenna, Amber’s sister, would visit my office frequently during these days to share stories. Amber had visited her and Jason (Amber’s boyfriend). She talked with them at length. Many things Amber related in these dream visits cross verified Michael’s statements to his father and friends in visits months before Amber passed over.

Andrea and I spent a lot of time talking on the phone and discussing the books and our experiences that are so similar. We both agreed that we were learning so much since the death of our children.

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Many of my students and their parents were caring and compassionate. One office aide stopped by almost daily to stroke my back and to ask how I felt.

The students saw me cry. I stopped trying to hide my tears. I figured it was a good lesson for them to witness pain and heartache, and learn compassion.

God must have helped me to choose my office aide, Mandy. Her quiet, strong, and caring nature helped me through many horrible mornings.

Mandy knew when to talk with me and when to be quiet. Sometimes she would simply give me a hug. I guess most days my eyes said it all. I prayed that she was not burdened too much by my grief this past year. If she was, it was a part of God’s plan for her. One day her father took time off of his job to come in and talk with me. I wasn’t surprised because he had also called me several times in the fall while I was on leave. Mandy and her family will have a special place in my heart forever.

The Allen family, Carla, Carron, and Amber, stuck by us throughout the horrible early days and the months to follow. Carla is an airline flight attendant detailed to the Asian and Australian routes. Since Carron was now a freshman at Georgetown, Carla would allow Amber to stay with us while she worked her long trips. I had been the counselor for both of the girls and they were friends with Michael. Rutledge and I were floored when this family gave us a Christmas gift of two round-trip tickets to anywhere in the world. I’ll miss Amber and our quiet talks. She will be off to Spelman College in the fall. Michael would also have been in Atlanta where they could have supported each other.

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Amber Robey

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Christy & Amber 57 feathersbook

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Clockwise: (starting Top Left) Josh, David (Michael’s best friend), Gene, and Jon

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(Top & Inset) Evans & Julia Rutledge and Michael at age 6 (Below) Sam & Joyce Wilson

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The Rutledge Family in 1983 Michael in soccor at age 7 Michael at Prom 1996

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(Top) The Rutledge Family in 1991 and (Left) in 1985

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(Top) Jenna, Andrea and Sara (Bottom Left) Selwyn (Right) Jocelyn

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PHOTOS

Senior Acolytes Last Service June 7, 1996 Graduation: Lemuel, Ipuna, Michael and Rahne

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Feeling His Presence

February, 1997 Rutledge and I strongly felt Michael’s presence, almost on a daily basis.

Sometimes we would suddenly feel hot at the same time and then experience cool air being blown on us. The air conditioner was not on in February. Around this time Rutledge developed an obsession with being covered by a particular comforter. He said that he could not sleep unless this comforter was on the bed. Many nights I felt as though I would die from heat exposure, but you learn to allow the grieving their quirks.

Many days friends still called to check on us. Usually they said they had a feeling that they needed to keep in touch. God was still providing us with comfort and reassurance. We were still very depressed, sleeping too much, and thinking up sick ways to accidentally die. In order to be with their child again, their own death is often an obsession with grieving parents. Ask any grieving parent. Some of us are constantly looking for signs that the world may end soon. I had started buying the tabloid papers that predicted that the end was near. I stopped because I perceived the checkout clerks were looking at me with disgust. My favorite day dream was that Michael floats down our street and into the house. He states that he has come to take us with him. As

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Rutledge and I take hold of his hands I ask if I need my pocketbook.

A few times, while sleeping on the sofa, God allowed me to see myself sleeping while Michael is holding me. I am so happy, but disturbed because Michael’s facial expression shows anguish over my grief for him. I read that our loved ones can not get on with their new life if we hold them back by refusing to try to move on with ours. Observing our grief compels them to try and comfort us as much as possible. People who are not open to contact make it very difficult for their loved ones to communicate and ease their pain.

On Valentine’s eve Ipuna stopped by with two boxes of chocolates. She said that Michael had been bugging her for three days (telepathically) to not forget us. Later that night I had a dream visit from Michael. His face was not as clear as his father’s descriptions, but so what. In the visit Michael holds out his hand to dance with me. We slow-dance and I can actually feel his body close to mine. It feels just as real as Rutledge describes. Michael’s face is in the opposite direction from mine because we are dancing. I’m sure he planned it that way. Michael has on blue jeans and a grey shirt (no logo).

I woke up at 2:00 a.m. overstimulated and humming a tune. I could still feel his arms around me. What a beautiful gift for Valentine’s Day. The next morning Rutledge identifies the tune I am humming as “You Light Up My Life” by Debbie Boone. This is not a song my son would have chosen in this life. He was definitely into jazz and rap music.

The next afternoon I coincidently have plans to meet Jan after work at a coffee shop to talk. Jan tells me that Debbie Boone wrote that song as a tribute of love to God. Most people thought it was just a love song, hence it rose to the top of the charts. Michael must have wanted me to know this information. Besides, Amber told Jason in a visit that there really are no accidents or coincidences in life. Rutledge scouted the music stores and found the sheet music. The words made me feel loved, missed, and special, especially the second verse that describes someone sitting by a window many nights thinking of finally getting a chance to say they love you.

Rutledge and I begin to notice that in certain rooms, at certain times, we both could smell Michael’s choice of cologne before he passed, Cool Water.

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Around the same time, Jenna tells me of frequently smelling Amber’s favorite perfume before she passed, Watermelon. Andrea and I were convinced that our children have met, know of our close association, and have begun to coincide their signs to us. We were definitely on the right track.

A recently retired teacher’s son died during February. Everyone at work was shocked and heartbroken over her loss. Although her son was much older, the devastation of more grief around me was emotionally draining.

I attempted to help the family as much as possible with books, support, food, angel pins, and love. Lord, please don’t make me a grief counselor.

I’m not always crazy about your will. Please let me know that this is not my destined path.

Jan and I met again this month to discuss Michael’s miracles. Our talks left us so excited, exhausted, and overstimulated. We both wonder why she is in the loop. She revealed to me that she and Dave, her husband, found a feather inside their home after our last coffee marathon. I guess she waited so long to tell me because when the feathers start coming, you often question your sanity or imagination.

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CHAPTER 8

Looking in on Michael

March, 1997 Answers to our prayers, and spiritually enlightening events, began to be experienced so frequently that we were not sure we could physically and emotionally continue to withstand all of the overstimulation. Our brains were exhausted from thoughts of all the signs of life after life. Sleeping was now an escape to rest up for the next round of gifts from God. Why were we experiencing so much more than other grieving parents? God must have something that He wanted us to do. Our sharing of the gifts, along with others witnessing our grief and receiving signs, had already touched, enlightened, and changed so many lives. God exists.

I noticed that on March 5th Rutledge was extremely restless before retiring for the evening. Within the hour he got out of bed deciding to fix a cup of tea to help him to relax. He drank the tea, watched television for about 30 minutes, and returned to bed. At 1:30 a.m. he woke me to tell me of an extraordinary manifestation in the form of a dream.

He described the two of us were looking in on Michael’s life, and he was somehow aware that we were present. It was not actually a dream visit.

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Michael is in a beautiful dormitory room that would equal the room of a five-star hotel. It appears that we have spent the night with Michael in this room and he acknowledges us in voice. Michael then goes to the mirror and primps in an excited manner.

Rutledge said, “Michael, why are you spending so much time in the mirror?”

He smiled and didn’t respond.

Michael walked us downstairs and led us into a beautiful lounge with a large square table and a sectional sofa around the whole table. We were taken to the room at about 8:00 in the morning. Michael had brought books and a composition notebook with him to this room. We thought he was there to spend time with us, but he ignored us as he read and studied all day. Rutledge periodically checked his watch and noticed that an African American female walked into the room and hugged Michael. He never attempted to introduce her. The young lady complained to Michael that he had promised to spend some time with her. Michael would then stop and talk, hug and kiss her. Rutledge and I were amazed that we were there with him and he was not talking to us.

Rutledge continued to describe that I became bored and returned to the dorm room for magazines and books to read. Around noon, more young people around Michael’s age enter the room. They all speak to each other and go off in different directions, a cafeteria, dorm rooms, and a library. Rutledge becomes bored and walks over to a beautiful window. When he looks out he notices that there are no cars or any forms of transportation. He wonders how the students arrived at the lounge. Could they all have walked?

At one point, Michael gets up, steps across us and says, “Excuse me.”

Rutledge becomes restless and gets up to look at the paper that Michael has been working on for many hours. The paper consists of Bible verses, math, and written words. Michael smiles up at his father as Rutledge looks confused. Rutledge can read the words but his intelligence is not developed enough to understand what he is reading. Michael seems so at peace and so very happy. It is obvious that the young female and Michael are sweethearts.

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Rutledge thought he heard Michael call her name, but could only remember that it started with a D. We retired to our dorm room around 10:00 p.m. that evening. The manifestation ends.

Overstimulated, we sat at the kitchen table and reviewed everything for an hour. Before Rutledge had retired to bed for the second time, he had prayed to God to allow him to see his son and know that he is okay. Rutledge felt truly blessed to receive an answer so quickly. Why? Does Rutledge have special gifts?

Did Michael not pay attention to us (although he acknowledged our presence) because he somehow knew that God was answering his father’s prayer exactly as he had requested? Rutledge had asked to be allowed to see, not have a visit from, Michael. We are truly blessed for this experience. God exists.

The next day at work I excitedly told a co-worker about our experience.

It became apparent immediately that I was not believed. I was so sensitive these days. I vowed never to share another miracle or experience with that person, at least for the time being. Doubt could not enter my mind. I must remain thankful and encouraged.

Rutledge’s birthday was March 7th, and all day we expected to receive a sign from Michael. We were disappointed when nothing happened, but laughed over our insatiable greed. Throughout the day and into the night I continually begged Rutledge to remember every detail of the manifestation. One thing that Rutledge noticed, but had not commented on, was the length of time Michael spent at the lounge. The time span in Michael’s dimension seemed much longer than ours on earth.

Saturday, of the same week, I was sitting on our patio staring into space.

At least I was out of the bed. Somehow I felt Michael’s presence and knew that he was sitting cross legged in front of me on the outdoor carpeting on the patio slab. He proceeded to tell me telepathically, smiling widely, that the name of the girl described in the manifestation is Denise Sturdimire.

She is 18 years old, but died in a fire while baby-sitting at the age of twelve.

He continued on telling me that Denise is from Chicago, Illinois, and her parents’ names are Gerald and Donna. I knew that he was telling me this although I could not see him.

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Later that evening, at dinner with a friend, Rutledge remarks again that Michael’s obvious sweetheart’s name begins with a D. I broke out in a cold sweat. I had not told Rutledge of my talk with Michael earlier in the day.

Somehow I kept thinking that I was making up everything in my mind.

How many signs did I need to finally have the type of faith needed to sustain me through these experiences? Rutledge always accepted everything without question and on faith. God must be exasperated with my questioning and doubting that life goes on. You never die; you just step into another dimension.

The acceptance of death would be so much easier if ministers and priests talked more of life after life. I use death in terms of the death of the physical body. Whenever Michael is seen in his new life, his body is the same as before, but appears brand new. Thank God for the people who have written books about their experiences about the death of their loved ones. Could it be possible that our religious leaders know little of life after life? Perhaps death is a subject that just isn’t discussed much because most people have deep fears. I was beginning to think some actually believe they will never have to face the next dimension.

Sandy, the school’s banker, stopped me one day in the parking lot. She asked me to explain to her the feathers that others were saying they had received from Michael. We must have talked at least 45 minutes. My birthday was March 22nd and I had no contact from Michael. The next Monday, when I returned to work, the mailbox on my door had a beautiful handmade card in it. The card had a small feather on the back flap. It was from Sandy. A few days after our conversation in the parking lot she had found the feather in her laundry room in her house. She swore the same feather followed her to her upstairs bedroom and eventually back down to her living room. Each time she moved to another room the same feather was there. Of course, she ran back to the laundry room and retraced her steps. The feather was never in the previous place. She was amazed. Michael wants people to believe his parents and witness the signs from God. The next evening Michael told me to give Sandy an angel pin. I did.

Michael also told me to give my secretary, Carol, an angel pin. She had

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scheduled surgery for a sinus condition. He was always popping into her head and seemed to like contacting her. Laughing, she related that she had already planned to ask Michael to be with her during surgery. The day of the surgery she asked Michael if he was with her.

Michael said, “Yup.” Carol realized that she would never answer herself in that manner. We were stunned. The use of the word “yup” was a family joke.

Andrea, Joyce, Bobbie, and I all decided to have lunch together. We wailed and whined throughout the meal in a pitiful manner. At least we are not alone. Bobbie was doing so much better than the rest of us. She said she wanted to heal. Not us. We were still content to slip into an emotional pit.

We laughed some, but our eyes also watered at various intervals. Bobbie’s son was much older, in his thirties when he died, and not living at home.

Could that be the difference? Maybe she just accepted better than most.

Time was not healing us as fast as we had heard. I believe that time just makes you numb.

One afternoon I was home alone reading a book and felt a top strand of hair being pulled and saw a flash, as if someone had rushed by. Smiling, I knew it was Michael. He had always played with me in that manner. I was learning to be thankful.

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Eight Months & Into Easter

April, 1997 Eight months had passed, but we were still grieving. Our pain still existed and our hearts were still heavy. The intensity of the pain, however, did seem to be lessening some. Andrea and I were communicating more than ever.

We both are getting the same type of signs from Michael and Amber. We were convinced that they had met each other on the other side. Call it a mother’s intuition.

Linda, my husband’s ex-secretary, graciously agreed to chair the scholarship committee for Michael’s memorial fund. She called us the night after she mailed copies of each application to all of the committee members.

We chose five individuals that had known Michael from an early age. Also included was Michael’s favorite English teacher, Joann Strand. He was enrolled in her Language Composition, AP class during his junior year. Many days he would discuss and critique with me the many concepts learned in her class. He remarked one day that he would take her class for no grade and no credit. What he was learning was fascinating. Michael was a hard person to dazzle because he thought on a deeper level than most. He believed in looking into the “third eye” within oneself for answers.

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Linda was touched, and her voice cracked, while telling us that Michael had left a feather for her on top of her car in the garage. She took it as a thank you for working on his memorial fund.

That evening Rutledge and I discussed verifying the existence of Michael’s sweetheart, Denise. The next weekend Audrey, Linda, and I piled into Linda’s van to search the public library records. We searched all of the obituary records of the Chicago Tribune, but to no avail. God had given me great friends, spending their time on perhaps a silly goose chase. I knew in my heart that Michael had connected with me in March giving this information. A light bulb went off in Linda’s head and she suggested that I contact the Bureau of Records in Chicago.

Easter Sunday was difficult for us because the church bulletin listed that the flowers at the altar were dedicated by the acolytes in memory of Aaron, Ian, and Michael. Tears flowed down my eyes as I knelt at the altar for communion. Deacon Polley held my face an extra few seconds. Andrea and I lamented our perplexity at the absences of presence of Amber and Michael.

We had read so many books concerning the spirit world that we speculated they were over in Iran crossing over souls killed in the deadly earthquake. We become tickled after we listened to ourselves spouting off like God’s planning experts. Actually we are grasping for any reason to keep our sanity.

Andrea, Joyce, and I admitted that we still felt sorry for ourselves. We constantly felt the need to discuss our children with anyone who would listen. It was an obsession. However, we agreed that most people were tired of our talk and probably didn’t want to hear things that could happen to them. Humans believe if they can avoid thinking of something, maybe it will not happen. All of us used to be that way. Now we just lived a day at a time. It was best that we only talked with each other and members of “the fraternity.”

Sometimes other people’s joy and excitement about things made me sick with envy. Rutledge and I had been so unhappy for so long that it had become our natural state. Praying helped us to realize that Michael was truly in a better place than all of the kids we see everyday. Every parent wants to know their child’s whereabouts. A prime concern is also their safety and

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happiness. Never again in our earthly lives do we have to worry about Michael. Quickly we become less inspired and decide that we miss Michael and would rather have the worry.

Visits to the bookstores became a part of my weekly schedule. Always I felt a presence leading me to certain reading material. Joann and I scouted the shelves one afternoon and decided to buy Tara’s Angels by Kirk Moore. We then stopped at the mall and both bought some Eternity perfume after minutes of sniffing at least five other scents. Later that evening I read the entire book and called Joann. I knew why we had chosen, or been led to, that book.

Michael and Tara had both behaved strangely days before their deaths. Did they know? Tara’s favorite perfume was Eternity. Now we really had the burning desire to get the message out to everyone that there is life after life. I felt so guilty that I had become enlightened only after the death of my son.

Could one seventeen year old’s life touch so many lives and cause so many changes in me, Rutledge, and people in our loop? Tara’s did. Is this all a part of God’s master plan? Why couldn’t I be more like Rutledge, accepting everything as it happens? Does God tire of my constant questioning? There I go, another question.

April 22nd is the day that had been set aside for the dedication of a room in the bandroom to be named after Michael. I had been anxious and moody for the past three days. Rutledge and I would have to relive many memories as we stepped onto the campus of Chaparral High School. All of the jazz band members would be there along with his friends, teachers, and parents, and the principal. We had donated Michael’s drum set to the school in September, but I was not sure that I was ready to see someone actually play on those same drums.

Two days before the dedication I was told by Michael to extend a personal invitation to certain friends. I followed through with his requests. At 5:30 a.m., the morning of the dedication, I heard drum beats in the bathroom; I asked Michael to tap once more if he was really beating with his sticks. I heard one single tap. Michael would be in rare form today. His presence was definitely in the house that morning. Michael’s close friend asks to ride over to the school

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with us. He remarks that he has been feeling Michael around him all day.

Gene Nakanishi, the band director, invited everyone to view the room that had been named “Mike’s Den.” He told us that Michael always felt that the percussionist should have a lounge in which to rest because they always had to move and carry the heavy drum equipment. The band students had cleaned out and fixed up the room with lounge furniture and other musical memory items. A large year book picture of Michael, donated by the photography studio, was hung on the middle wall. A beautiful plaque, with precious words exemplifying Michael’s qualities as a musician, and as a human being, hangs below the picture. The memorial was so touching it brought tears to many eyes. We had been band parents for many years. Students in band are very busy individuals. They must have spent many hours after school getting this room in order.

The jazz band played three of Michael’s favorite pieces. Our friend, Joann, saw glimpses of Michael making the drum motions behind the young sophomore whom he had trained last year. She said Michael had a wide smile on his face and was dressed like the other band members. He was still causing us to be proud parents although he no longer lived in our world. Relief and gratitude were the optimum words for the day.

Linda called on the same day around four o’clock saying she had just seen Michael driving on the highway beside her. She had been crying while driving home on the freeway after leaving the dedication. When she looked in her mirror she recognized Rutledge’s old grey car behind her without front tags. The car then pulled up beside her. Linda said she looked to her left at the driver of the car. It was Michael. He smiled, waved to her, and sped up in front of her. While attempting to keep up with the car, she noticed that the car was also missing the rear license plate. Michael led her off the freeway and then disappeared in front of her eyes. It was very dangerous crying while driving, especially on a freeway. Was Michael saving her life, as well as assuring and comforting all of us? We know that those in the spirit world can always see us. I guess they can also be seen by those individuals who are open and possess some powers of clairvoyance. Again, we were thankful and overwhelmed.

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Rutledge asked Linda if Michael’s shirt sleeves were rolled up. She was surprised by the question, but answered, yes. Rutledge smiled and nodded.

Michael always rolled up the sleeves of his shirt while playing the drums. It was Michael. The car he had been driving was sold three weeks before and the license tags were still in our garage.

While watching television later the same evening Rutledge suddenly turned the sound from the television to a barely audible level. He then asked if I heard the jazz band playing with the drum solo. I heard nothing. The performance that night must have been a father and son thing.

The Saturday following the dedication Rutledge excitedly told me that the car door locks had been moving at a rapid pace up and down on their own.

The key control was in the house.

Rutledge said, “Michael, if that is you, please stop.” The locks stopped immediately. Michael had definitely kept his sometimes playful personality.

Sundays are always difficult for us because Michael used to spend most Sundays at home doing homework and relaxing. We felt especially lonely on that day. These days always drag on endlessly.

The day after Rutledge’s experience in the garage, I had my own experience.

I was laying in bed trying to generate enough energy to rise. Michael whispered in my ear, in voice, “I love you.” Thank you, God.

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CHAPTER 10

Michael’s Scholarship

May, 1997 Andrea called to report to me what Amber had told her sister, Jenna, in a dream visit the previous night.

Amber stated, “Earth sucks and I am not coming back.” She also said, “I talked to Michael.”

Our intuition had been verified. The children had met on the other side.

They did not know each other on this side. God was giving us more proof and signs to strengthen our beliefs.

Linda and the committee conducted the scholarship interviews in early May. Shirley Lizotte (David’s mother) began to cry during one of the interviews. She told the committee, after the results had been tallied, that Michael had come to her in voice.

He said, “I want Madika Bryant to win my scholarship. I love her.”

Without any input from Shirley, the individual tallies declared Madika as

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the first recipient of Michael’s memorial scholarship. Madika is a piano/ mallet/bass clarinet player in Chaparral’s band. Michael had been her section leader in Jazz Band and they were co-section leaders of the percussion section during Marching Band. Madika will attend Howard University in Washington, D.C., this fall.

All of the graduation preparations for seniors at my school were driving me crazy. The Award’s Night at Green Valley High School was especially difficult for Andrea. She sent Jenna to the stage to receive all of Amber’s medals as valedictorian, National Merit Scholar, Honors Diploma recipient, Tandy Scholar, Nevada Scholar, and many other awards, too many to mention. She had been a brilliant and vivacious, young lady. Andrea and Jenna escaped as quickly as possible from the theatre. Andrea cried herself to sleep that night surrounded by medals. Amber’s name was to be listed in the graduation program along with all of the other valedictorians. Andrea was to receive Amber’s diploma posthumously.

Mother’s Day without Michael was awful. Many of his friends called to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day. I cried periodically throughout the day. I remembered the year before when he took me out to dinner and we spent the whole day together. Ipuna stopped by with a gift and I cried even more. I prayed that Michael would allow me to feel his presence on this day, or at least leave a feather. Climbing into bed that evening Rutledge could see my disappointment and reminded me that Mother’s Day was a man made holiday.

The next day at work I refrained from going to lunch so that my co-workers could talk of the wonderful gifts and events of their Mother’s Day without being uncomfortable. Most of the day I stayed in my office, cried periodically, and resented everyone else’s happiness. It was best to be by myself.

Why make others miserable and rain on their parade.

Two days later Michael came to me in voice in the morning and said, “You will see.”

I will see what? I was still hoping that the end of the world was coming.

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Joyce and Andrea reported that they had not received any signs of comfort on Mother’s Day either. We all wailed and whined together. Michael did leave a feather stuck to the window of my car one day where it remained in extremely windy weather. I guess all of us wanted super miracles.

My secretary told me that she had asked Michael, on a Wednesday, to watch over her teenage son Chad. On Saturday, of the same week, Chad told Carol that he almost had a collision with a car while riding his skateboard.

Chad told her when close to impact something, or someone, pushed him backward off of the skateboard just in time. I was so happy to hear about Michael’s good deeds. God exists.

Carol Ross stopped me in the hallway to tell me about a book she was drawn to purchase and read, Proud Spirit by Rosemary Altea. Carol had supported me all year with wonderful cards, letters, notes, and gifts. She also stayed in contact frequently while I was home on leave for ten weeks. The next day Carol gave the book to me to read over the weekend. The evening before she had another strong feeling to stay up late and complete the book. She asked me to read the chapter “Are They Happy” first.

Proud Spirit helped me and Andrea immensely. The book taught us to learn to let our departed loved ones go. They need to be able to progress in their new world without us weighing them down all of the time with our grief. In essence, we were perhaps making our children frustrated with our constant wailing. We vowed to do better. I couldn’t stand the thought of making Michael frustrated. Mothers are that way.

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Coping with Graduation

June, 1997 June 4th was the day of Green Valley High School’s graduation. I dressed to work the graduation and left school with staff to drive over to the convention hall. I could not go. Michael had graduated the exact same day the year before, and all of the happy memories flooded through my mind. The sudden surge of dreams unrealized paralyzed me and I bent over the steering wheel sobbing uncontrollably. The students didn’t need me around them with my sad face and swollen eyes. Besides, most people probably thought I should be “over it” by now. Those not in the fraternity had no idea.

Months ago I had convinced Andrea not to even try to attend the graduation ceremonies. Why should she make herself and others so miserable? A strong feeling urged me to call Andrea. Just as I imagined, she was in bed crying and wailing to God. She readily agreed to meet me for lunch and a movie. We consoled each other for two hours over lunch, then swiftly left the restaurant when graduates from different high schools began to file in with their parents for celebration meals.

Andrea wanted to see a violent movie. I knew the anger inside of her because

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I felt the same way. We decided to see a mindless romantic comedy. We were so proud of ourselves as we walked out of the movies. Our children would be happy that we at least attempted to get through the day with some sense of dignity. After all, our children, with the help of God, had lead to our selection of books leading us to a higher level of healing. God had allowed us to experience signs providing comfort and assurance that Michael and Amber were still alive in another dimension. God exists.

The closing of school was such a relief for me. No more having to face all of somebody else’s teenagers everyday with their happy faces and heads full of summer or college plans. I was quite the little actress those last few days.

One evening, as Rutledge awoke from a sofa nap, he told me that he saw Michael standing in our front foyer near the door looking out. Michael’s back was turned. He never turned around to look back at his father. Odd. Jenna had told me just a few days ago that she saw Amber with her back turned as she looked at the marker where her friends had placed flowers and cards at the accident scene. Were the kids trying to send a message to both families? Let us move on. Let go, and let God. If we let go completely what will sustain us? Why should we bother to continue to live?

By June 5th Rutledge had reached the end of his rope. He announced loudly to me that he was going to find Michael since his son had not visited him in months. He woke me up in the middle of the night and excitedly reported he had somehow used his mind to find Michael. He had located him in a mall after searching many other local establishments. He continued to describe how his mind travelled to these places while he was fully awake. We immediately went to our favorite conference place, the kitchen table.

Rutledge explained how he came in from the top of the mall, in his mind, and ended up behind Michael. He moved in front of Michael and Michael appeared startled. They hugged each other without saying a word. Michael was then seen on the outside of the mall standing by a limousine, but there were no other cars in the parking lot. I had recently read about astral projecting. This can be done by many people after training and practice. Did Rutledge have a special gift?

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As Rutledge sat at the table he began to project again. A tear slowly trickled down his face as he described this scene. He was seeing, sometimes with his eyes open, a local stadium packed with all types of people. There are no cars in the parking lot. He became emotional when he saw our mothers sitting in a special section of the stadium. Not only did he describe their clothes and overall appearance, but he could actually hear their conversation. My mother, Ann, was telling his mother, Flora, that Adam and Rocky, our fathers, would be sorry they had missed their grandson’s concert. Ann offered Flora some popcorn from a red and white box. Flora declined, indicating it would upset her stomach. Flora had a drink cup in her hand. A man in the audience now taps Ann on the shoulder and asks her if she knows the members of the band.

She and Flora proudly remark that the drummer is their grandson. I am in a serious heart attack state now.

Rutledge then projects to the stage and sees a jazz band consisting of five members. Michael sees his father, winks and smiles at him while playing the drums. At one point he hollers out to a white male playing a guitar solo.

Michael says, “Play it, Josh.”

All of the band members are dressed alike in black slacks and colorful multicolored show shirts. My God. I had just read a story where two parents had found each other after the death of their sons because the sons were visiting in dreams with the new friends in the after life. Why did Michael call out the name Josh?

Rutledge commented that our mothers have both gained weight after their death illness and look brand new. Both mothers, if they had lived, would now be in their 70’s. They now looked to be in their late 30’s or early 40’s. I had also read about this transformation. Our bodies are different and brand new over there, and people who die after middle age can go back to at least middle age. Children who die get the chance to grow up and progress on the other side. They do not miss anything. Michael still looked eighteen and the others on the stage were all around the same age.

Rutledge continued to describe everything he was seeing. An attractive African-American female, dressed in black pants and black top, walks in the

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stadium and sits in the special section seats by our mothers.

Ann says, “Denise, I thought that you weren’t coming tonight.”

Denise says, “Oh, you knew I was just kidding you two. Look at you guys. You spoil your grandson and he is getting a big head.”

They all laugh.

I am freaking out big time now. Denise is the name that Michael told me about on the patio in March. She must be his sweetheart. Rutledge confirms that she is the same girl that he saw in March during his manifestation. Wow! Rutledge then sees Denise walking toward what appears to be a dressing room. He comments that the crowd gets along so well and no security officers are present. He then sees Michael in a dressing room with other people milling around. Everyone says hello to Denise. Denise then sits on Michael’s lap and plays with his hair. He asks her to get up so he can wash his face.

She smiles and says, “Oh, your face is fine.”

Rutledge then loses his projection. It is a good thing, because I’m about to pass out at this point. We return to bed and I briefly see our mothers as Rutledge described. They are both laughing as the concert breaks up.

Our lives would change forever after the night of June 5th. God was really going to show us His love, His essence, and His power in the days to come.

God exists.

The next few days consisted of my begging Rutledge to project. I know why I don’t have the power to project. I would be locked up visiting with Michael 24-7. June 8th was our 29th wedding anniversary. Surely Rutledge would try to project for me today. I believe that he feared he wouldn’t be able to project again. We moped around the house all day hoping for an anniversary visit from Michael. Later that evening we decided that we had better nourish our bodies.

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The restaurant that we chose had glass partitions on the top of each booth.

While waiting for our meal, I noticed that Rutledge was staring at the glass with his eyes open, smiling. He said that he saw my mother and father in a room in a house. He described what Mother was wearing and that she was clearing dishes from a table. My father was sitting in a recliner reading a paper. He was blind when he died. What do they read over there? Rutledge remarked that Mother was flipping through a magazine. They both looked so young and didn’t wear glasses anymore. My Mother asked my Father if he planned to go fishing the next day.

He said, “No.” Still the silent type. He deep-sea fished as a hobby in this life. Dinner means nothing to us now. The excitement is too much.

Rutledge sees what he describes as a movie, or television screen, as he is driving us home. This is how my secretary describes seeing Michael when he pops in to see her from time to time. Why do they have this ability? Are they psychic?

I was never able to project again after June 5th. I reasoned that God had allowed me a mere glimpse so that I would believe my husband. I spent many hours before this day on the sofa, on the bed, in the chair, on the patio, trying to find Michael. I was a sight to behold.

I can’t even begin to give a view of our astonishment. Rutledge, while driving the car, is telling me that he now sees Michael and Denise in a beautiful park playing with a dog and throwing a frisbee. Michael is dressed in jeans and a Tee-shirt with no logo.

He acknowledges his father’s presence and says, “Hi, Dad. I love you and miss you, and tell Mom I love her too. I realize that we can’t be together, but my life is so complete now.”

The name Johnson then pops into Rutledge’s mind. Rutledge then hears Denise tell Michael that she misses her mom and dad. Then the word Il-

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linois pops into his mind. I analyze (that’s my job, I guess) that Denise’s mother’s maiden name is Johnson and that she is verifying that she lived in Chicago. This is all of the information that I need to search her existence through the vital statistic records.

Rutledge says to Michael, “Son, we love and miss you too. Tell Denise we send our love.” Wow! I think I need a real strong drink now. God exists. He knows our needs also.

At home, the same evening, we sit on the patio to discuss our blessings.

Rutledge moans and says, “Oh, oh, I see a beautiful bright light.” At this point I begin to panic because the bright light is what you are supposed to follow to your next life at physical death. Surely my husband is not dying right now in front of me on the patio. He better not leave me. Besides, he is my contact with Michael. Rutledge reveals that the beautiful, white light slowly reduced down to a flat line. He said initially that he was frightened, but a voice came to him and said, “Do not worry. Be not afraid.”

What does all of this mean? Those were God-like words. We now feel so overwhelmed and humble. Has God sent a messenger to explain that God is giving Rutledge a special gift? Perhaps he had these gifts all of the time.

Rutledge asks me to stop questioning so much, to be accepting and thankful. What he really means is, shut up and savor the moment. What a beautiful wedding anniversary gift. Our sense of peace is now beyond description.

Remember, Michael told me in voice, “you will see.” This must be what he meant. Thank you, God. Michael lives. God exists.

Selwyn Gill, the young man that was to be Michael’s roommate at Morehouse, arrived to visit with us for a week. We wanted him to have some closure to Michael’s death. What happened to Selwyn was awful for any freshman off to college for the first time. Selwyn is so much like Michael in height, weight, manner, dress, eating habits, interests, and behavior patterns. His beautiful smile also resembles Michael’s smile. He’s a good listener like Michael was, and he only talks when he has something of meaning to say. He was very sociable, but not chatty. Selwyn chose to sleep in Michael’s

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room and he fully enjoyed all of the conveniences in the room. Namely, the TV, VCR, telephone, and state-of-the-art stereo. He loves music as much as Michael did. Talking to Selwyn was like talking to Michael. He is a nice, decent, young man and I understand why Michael wanted to room with him. We cautioned ourselves not to overwhelm him and not make him feel that he was our substitute for Michael.

Michael’s friends started to fill up the house and, by Wednesday, we had stopped answering the phone. Why bother? It was always for Selwyn. We showed him the strip and local sights and took in a show. Ipuna took him out a few nights. Groups of kids poured in to entertain him. Michael’s friends are so nice, decent, and faithful to us.

While Selwyn was visiting I found two feathers in the garage. One was close to Michael’s car; the car his father drives now. A strange computer message was also received on Joann’s machine. We know that the feathers and the computer message are from Michael, with the help of God. The computer message was a strange mixture of two languages and higher math.

We figured it was for Selwyn because he is a math and engineering major at Morehouse. Joann said that the black ink cartridge was in the computer.

When she attempted to print out a program her computer shut down completely. After an hour the computer started up again and printed out the message in blue ink. None of us could figure out anything rational in this second message. Perhaps we were not supposed to understand, only accept the unusual event.

Joann, Andrea, and Joyce all had been trying astral projection since the discovery of Rutledge’s gift. Joann seemed to have more psychic ability than the rest of us. She told of seeing her son Gene in a lower level, filled with drug addicts and derelicts. He was dirty and unhappy, begging his mother to help him move to a higher level. We all began to pray for him. The books we read stated that those on a high level can help those on a lower level.

Joann asked God to allow Michael, in some way, to help Gene.

The next week Joann told us that Gene had visited with her in a dream.

They embraced and he thanked her for praying for him.

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Joann asked, “How did you get out?”

Gene said, “Princess (his German shepherd that had died a few years ago) found Michael and Michael and Princess rescued me.”

We cried. Michael and Gene did not know each other. Michael had known Princess. People meet and help each other in the new dimension.

Amber said, “I talk to Michael.”

Gene said, “Michael and Princess rescued me.”

On our anniversary Michael had told his father that he would be busy the next week. What do they do over there?

God had been definitely working in all of our lives for obviously three reasons – to provide comfort, to reach out and share His wonders with others, and to help bereaved parents. He was providing us with a living example of His existence.

On the 24th of June I mailed the information sheet from the Chicago Bureau of Records to check on Denise’s death records and to verify her existence.

The same day I mustered enough nerve to try to find Josh’s parents. One of Michael’s friends had confirmed that a Chaparral student named Josh had died of cancer the year before Michael. He was a ranked tennis player and had been a wonderful person. He struggled to graduate, dying in August, 1995.

The local newspaper had printed a Sunday feature about him.

The Chaparral High principal’s secretary gave me Josh’s last name. I located the name in the phone directory and dialed. Josh’s father answered the phone and, after I explained my reason for calling, he assured me that he didn’t think I was crazy. He said that Josh liked music but was more interested in athletics. We discussed Josh’s illness and his father remarked that Josh died August 15, 1995. I was stunned, Michael died August 15, 1996, exactly one year later. He said that he was comforted by the information we had shared and he would tell Josh’s mother. Josh and Michael are both alive

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and well, playing in a band. Another verification. God exists.

Ten minutes later we received a call from Josh’s mother. Her emotions flowed through the phone lines. We talked about our sons and shared some other signs of existence. She said that Josh was a gifted musician in his earlier years. He played the bass, but had made the decision to concentrate on tennis. I asked her the date of his burial. She told me that he was buried on August 20, 1995. We buried Michael on August 20, 1996. We were both shocked into silence. Later in our conversation I remarked that Michael would have turned eighteen on September 23rd, his birthday. Her silence was piercing.

She said, “Oh, my God. Josh’s birthday was also September 23rd.” Josh was born in 1977 and Michael was born in 1978. God exists.

That night Michael talked to me telepathically and told me that the information that I had been receiving was book material, and I now needed to start keeping dated notes. In October he had told me that I would write a book, but I would remember everything and didn’t need to start keeping notes until later. I told Michael that books were hard to get published. I was told not to worry because God could not be stopped.

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CHAPTER 12

Just Having Fun

June 28, 1997 Rutledge found Denise and Michael in an amusement park. They were riding in a barrel ride. Michael waved to Rutledge and said, “Hi, Dad. I love you. Tell Mom that I love her.”

Denise waved and said, “I love you, too.”

Rutledge told Michael that we loved and missed him. He also sent words of love to Denise. Rutledge said that they talked about riding the roller coaster, but Michael said he did not want to ride anymore. They then decided to get ice cream. A man handed them cups of ice cream (Michael never got cones) and no money was exchanged. Rutledge continued to describe all types of people, all ages, all colors, young and old. Couples were seen pushing baby strollers. Rutledge sees Michael and Denise leaving the park and hears Michael tell Denise that his father is still watching them. I am writing everything down like a crazed journalist.

Rutledge rests for a few minutes. Projecting zaps his strength. I beg him to continue. Michael is seen walking Denise to what looks like a beautiful

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white dormitory. Everything over there is more heightened and the colors are more beautiful than can be imagined. Michael kisses Denise and skips down the sidewalk and talks to other kids his age. He looks as though he is on some type of campus. The streets are lit, but it is nighttime. There are no streetlights. Rutledge projects back to the amusement park and sees Josh with two other white males. They are discussing girls and joking around. Michael is then seen again, walking into a huge, beautiful room with two beds. The door has no locks. Michael talks with a white male that we guess he shares a room with. They are discussing their schedules for the next day. Michael must realize that his father is still watching him.

He says, “I love you, Dad, but I am tired and going to bed.�

Rutledge sees Michael undress and get in the bed. This is funny to us. I guess he was saying that Rutledge could watch him sleep if he so desired.

God exists.

I called Andrea the next day, told her of the Josh verification and the amusement park, asking her to bring over a picture of Amber. Rutledge wanted to see if he could locate her. Andrea brings the picture over and returns home.

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Finding Amber

June 29, 1997 Rutledge concentrates and says that he sees the back of a girl with blonde shoulder-length hair. She is standing in a large room that looks like a beautiful library with beautiful windows. It is daytime there. Rutledge remarks to me that he can’t get her to turn around. I suggest that he call out her name. Before he can do this, She says, “Hi.” Rutledge says, “Hi.” She says, “God is good.”

“Yes, He is.”

He then calls out the name Amber and she quickly turns and smiles. Rutledge actually hears their voices in his head. It is not telepathic. However, they read his mind.

Rutledge says, “I am Michael’s father and I know your mother.”

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Amber smiles and says, “Yes, I know. Please tell her that I love her and that I am okay. Tell her that I am trying to make a dress.”

She had been looking at pattern books on a wall bookcase. He describes Amber dressed in a short, vivid blue dress.

We call Andrea and she is comforted and thankful. She states that Amber hardly ever wore a dress. Rutledge closes his eyes again and sees Amber in the same setting sitting at a table with other boys and girls around her age.

They are laughing and talking and looking through pattern books.

Amber turns and smiles and says to Rutledge, “Thank you for contacting my mother and letting her know that I am okay.” (Amber knew about the phone call.)

We call Andrea again. We all thanked God and we are at a total loss of words.

June 30, 1997 I had lunch again with Jan today. She gave me the book Thy Son Liveth. We are both exhausted and overstimulated by the events of the past few days.

Jan reveals that every time she meets with me she receives a feather from Michael. What does this mean? Are they thank you feathers? Why is she in the loop?

Suddenly Jan said, “Oh, my daughter lives in New York and has a friend, Gideon.”

“So what?”

“Gideon works for a publishing company, that’s what.”

Stunned, and hyped up on too much caffeine, we agree to end our three hour lunch to return home and take to our beds. Besides, the people in the room are beginning to look at us funny. I guess we got loud. Who cares? We are on the path of spiritual enlightenment.

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Driving home it dawns on me that Rutledge and I don’t sleep as much anymore. Andrea is beginning to let the bed go a little more, too. I make a mental note to check on Joyce. Joann is okay. She has been on cloud nine since Gene’s rescue. Nap time.

Alice called from Texas where she has been visiting her ill sister. She has received four feathers from Michael since her arrival from San Diego. She suggested that Rutledge start asking the kids questions when he projects.

I beg Rutledge to project again. He now does not see a screen. He is now able to zoom in a full, clear picture. Rutledge sees Michael coming out of the shower with a towel wrap, returning to his dorm room. He sits down at a table with two other males, one black and one white, to study.

He looks up and says, “Hi, Dad. I guess I should put on a shirt.”

Rutledge says, “Hi, Michael.” Michael gets up and puts on a Tee-shirt. There are not many clothes in his closet. Michael returns to the table and begins reading.

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Independence Day– Learning About Messages July 4, 1997 Last fourth of July, Michael, Rutledge, Joann and I had gone to the movies to see Independence Day. How your life can change in a matter of seconds and minutes. God, we miss our son.

Rutledge projects and finds Michael in what looks like a large school hall or cafeteria. Students (I guess) of all colors are milling around with papers in their hands, no books. Denise walks by and taps Michael on the head. A few other guys eye her and make acceptable cat calls about her good looks.

Michael turns and the guys laugh. They tell Michael that they know that Denise is his girlfriend.

Next Michael looks to be walking into a large room or lecture hall. Each person has his own table and chair, but the chairs are not like school chairs. All of the kids look to be between the ages of sixteen and twenty. Michael appears to be listening to a demonstration or a speaker. Rutledge cannot see the front of the room or hear what Michael and the others are listening to so intently.

Michael smiles and says in a nice way, “Hi, Dad. I love you and Mom, but I

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am trying to concentrate.”

I ask Rutledge to continue on and ask questions as Alice suggested.

Rutledge asks, “Michael, are the feathers from you?”

Michael answers in a low tone, “Yes, I left the feathers, with the help of God.” “What do the feathers mean?”

Michael says, “They are a symbol.”

“Are the computer messages from you?”

“Yes, I sent them, with the help of God.” We are, needless to say, thrilled. Alice was right. They will answer questions if we ask, and even volunteer information. As Rutledge starts to project out Michael says, “We are all connected by a single thread.”

I excitedly call everyone in the loop. The feathers and the computer messages are all from Michael, with the help of God. We all feel special, humble, and blessed.

July 5, 1997 Jan called to tell us that Dave (her husband) had just found two beautiful white/grey feathers, each lying on the welcome mat at the front and back doors. She feels that God is truly blessing them through Michael.

Joyce brought over a picture of her son, Jonathan, killed in an automobile accident on July 28, 1996, just three weeks before Michael passed on. He was fifteen years old and a soccer player for Chaparral High School. Joyce told Rutledge to look for Jonathan on a soccer field. She then returned home. Rutledge sees a white male on a soccer field by himself. Jonathan is

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not there. He then projects to what looks like a campus and sees Jonathan on a street corner with three other black males. It is night. He hears one boy call another boy Barry. Rutledge introduces himself, and says that he is Michael Rutledge’s father.

Jonathan says, “I don’t know Michael.”

Another boy says, “You know Michael. He was the lead drummer at Chapparal who played at all of the assemblies.”

Jonathan then tells Rutledge that he remembers Michael.

He says, “Please tell my mother and father that I love and miss them. Tell my brother I love and miss him, too.”

Rutledge asks Jonathan, “What are you doing?”

Jonathan says, with pride, “I am in the Academy.”

The other boys say, in unison, “Oooh, the ACADEMY.” Rutledge sees the boys laughing and cutting up like the Academy is a special place of honor.

Jonathan continues, “Tell my parents that I am learning more than they could ever imagine.”

All of the boys appear to be between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. Rutledge hears them discuss that they had some R & R and had played soccer earlier. The boys then make plans to go play video games later.

We called Joyce immediately and read the projection to her. She was happy, relieved, confused, and almost speechless. For the next hour Jonathan pops into Rutledge’s view whenever he closes his eyes.

The next day, July 6th, we are leaving with another couple to go on a cruise

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to Alaska. We packed late into the night and retired to the patio for a few minutes of relaxation before going to bed. Our flight to Vancouver leaves early in the morning. Michael comes in voice to Rutledge and thanks him for helping all of the people. Michael also told his father that he was proud of him.

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Taking a Vacation

July 6, 1997 – Our first night on the ship Rutledge projects and finds Michael and Denise on a beach. It is daytime where they are.

Michael says, “Hi, Dad. I love you and Mom and I am glad you are on a trip relaxing and resting.” Denise waves and sends her love. Michael says, “Things are okay at home.” (Vegas) Rutledge asks them what they are doing.

Michael answers “We are on R & R that would equal two days your time.”

Michael and Denise are both dressed in bathing suits and holding hands while they stroll along the seaside.

Michael said in his January visit that he is with us more than we know. I guess they all have the ability to watch us. We just can’t see them. It was nice

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to know that Michael checked on the house.

July 10, 1997 We had just stepped off of a tour bus at the foot of a glacier surrounded by breathtaking mountains. Michael’s face pops into Rutledge’s head.

Rutledge asked, “Michael, where are you?”

“Dad, I’m right here with you.”

The next stop off the bus I found a feather on the ground. I gave the feather to Rutledge because he had spoken to Michael only a few minutes ago. Rutledge smiled and put the feather in his jacket pocket. Within a few minutes I found another feather that looked exactly like the feather I had given to Rutledge. He checked his pocket and the feather was gone. I then realized it was the same feather, but Michael meant for me to have it.

He knows that I cannot see him. God is good. God exists.

July 11, 1997 –

That afternoon, while cruising on the ship

Rutledge searches for Michael and finally finds him walking with other kids. We had decided earlier to ask Michael about his accident, although we knew he had not committed suicide.

Rutledge asks, “Michael, did you kill yourself?”

“No, Dad, it was an accident. I would never kill myself.”

Rutledge told Michael that I was distressed because he had not come to me.

“Tell Mom that I will, when the time is right.”

Rutledge then said he thought he saw Amber and Jonathan going to different classes.

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Rutledge focuses in again on Michael and sees him in an art class with about fifteen to twenty students. A white male instructor is in front of the room with an easel giving pointers. Michael is sitting at a desk drawing angel wings.

“Dad, tell Mom that I know that she is discouraged. Things (my accident) happen that are unexplainable, but they happen for the right reasons. They are for the glory of God. Tell Mom that I never stopped loving her. She is doing the right thing. God is the center of the universe, and everything revolves around His plan.”

Rutledge asks, “Michael, have you seen God?” “No, but I have seen the results and effects of God.” Michael then relates to his father that he sees his grandparents as often as he can, but he is real busy.

“Dad, we are all different now from what you have known us, but we are the best that God can make us.”

I ask Rutledge to tell Michael that we love him and are proud of him.

Michael says, “Tell Mom not to ever lose sight of the goal.”

“What is the goal?”

Michael answers, “Two things. The goal is the glorification of God, and that God does exist.”

Rutledge then asks what we can do for our friend we are cruising with who has just lost his father.

“Pray for him and talk to him and support him. You will know when the time is right.”

Rutledge and I both instinctively know that Michael is telling me to keep

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writing the book, but don’t forget the book is for “the glorification of God and to help people realize that God does exist.” We would hear those words from Amber and Jonathan later.

A few minutes later I found a piece of heavy string on our cabin floor shaped in the form of a J. I love you too, son.

July 12, 1997 The following night Rutledge projects and sees Michael and Denise sitting at an outdoor cafe. It is daytime there. Rutledge watches as they go inside to dance. First they fast dance and then they dance to a slow number. They then return outside. Rutledge decides not to disturb them.

July 13, 1997 While sitting in the lounge on board that morning, waiting to get off of the ship, Rutledge closes his eyes and instantly sees Michael and Rutledge’s Uncle Del walking and smiling. Del appears to be teaching or instructing Michael. Del died many years ago while in his seventies. He now looks middle aged. It is daytime there also. Rutledge watches, but says nothing.

Rutledge is shaken and reveals to me, once we had arrived home and were unpacked, what he saw on the plane to San Francisco earlier that day. I believed that he had been sleeping. He said that he saw Michael with both of his parents, Flora and Adam, walking in a beautiful field with yellow flowers, all holding hands. They were smiling and talking.

Flora said, “Hello, Son. This is your father. We are so happy that Michael is here with us. He is such a joy and we enjoy him so much.”

Flora tells Rutledge that Michael sometimes spends time with my parents, Ann and Rocky. However, today he is spending the whole day with them.

My husband is from Selma, Alabama. His father was murdered at the age of thirty-three, allegedly by two white men. The year was 1946 and the powers

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in place cared nothing about the death of a black man. Rutledge was born three months after his father was killed. After fifty-one years my husband finally saw his father for the first time. This was powerful. God is good.

Rutledge said that his father looked a lot like his own brother, Adam. He had a little grey in his hair and was very tall. If he were living now he would be eightyfour years old. Rutledge said he looked to be only forty or forty-five.

Adam spoke to Rutledge and said, “Hello, Son. I am sorry that I did not get a chance to know you. I am very happy to get a chance to finally meet you. I am proud of the way you have conducted your life. I can only say that your son is very much like you. I’ll get a chance to know you better now. I am sharing a lot with Michael.”

The three of them started walking fast and then levitated in the air for a few minutes. Rutledge sent his love as they returned to the ground. Earlier, on the ship, Rutledge had seen this same man sitting under a shade tree. He didn’t know that he was watching his father.

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CHAPTER 16

Understanding

July 14, 1997 Joann came over early this morning and we caught her up on everything.

She had news too. Last Friday, while we were on the boat, she became depressed. We always spent Friday evenings together. It had become a ritual.

That afternoon she received two feathers from Michael, with God’s help.

Joann took a nap, and her son, Gene, visited her in a dream state.

Gene walked out of a white house, embraced his mother and told her, “You waited for me.”

“When will we be together?” Joann questioned.

“Soon.”

They embraced again and then walked over to a table filled with all kinds of food. Joann saw her mother and family members from both sides of the family.

“Why did you choose a life of drugs?”

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“It was meant to be. I was supposed to do this. I am sorry for all of the anguish I caused you. You were a good mother. Mom, I am so busy.”

“Will I see you again?”

Gene smiled and said, “Yes.”

July 15, 1997 Becky, my neighbor, called to tell us that she received two feathers from Michael while we were in Alaska and three outside of her back door this morning. I imagine he was thanking her for driving us to the airport and collecting our mail. God continues to bless all of us.

July 16, 1997 I have been depressed for two days. Even with the many assurances, the 15th of each month is always difficult. I found a beautiful white fan feather on the family room carpet. It was not there five minutes before. My spirits lift. Thank you, Michael.

Andrea dropped by the house and we decided to contact Amber. Rutledge projects and sees Amber in a dorm room with three other girls. He watches for a few minutes.

Amber calls out and says, “Hi. You are there with my mother. Please tell her that I love her and I miss my sisters. I saw Sarah last week. I talk to Jenna.”

Andrea asks Rutledge to ask Amber why she has not come to visit her.

“I do not know why I cannot come to you. It is a process in growth.”

One of the girls in the room speaks to Rutledge.

“Hi, my name is Mary and I am from Pittsburgh. It took two years our time before I could talk to my parents.”

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Rutledge describes Mary as a white teenager with beautiful, naturally curly, red hair. Amber is dressed in jeans and a small, striped, short sleeved sweater. She is also wearing lipstick. Andrea apologizes to Amber for cutting her long hair before she was cremated.

“I don’t mind my hair cut. I am getting use to it and my hair is now easy to care for.”

All of the girls hold hands and hug each other. Rutledge asks if Michael is further along in his process and growth.

Amber says, “No, we have no competition here.”

“Have you seen Michael recently.”

“No.” Another girl remarks that she has seen Michael and talked with him.

“Amber, have you seen God?” “No, but I know He exists.”

“What have you been doing?”

“I have been busy doing a variety of things, including my studies.”

“What is your job?”

“I helped some people cross over in what you call the continent of Asia. I am different now. We are not the same as you knew us.”

Andrea asks about different ways she could grow and help herself.

“Mom, keep reading. It is the pathway to understanding. When you reach the end of your rope, God and the angels are always there to bring you up.”

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“Amber, are you moving the pictures at home?”

“No, I am unable to give signs. I have not gotten to that point yet. Your guardian angel may have moved the pictures.”

Andrea’s brother was killed in a car accident two years before Amber’s death.

Andrea asks, “How is Tim?” “Tim is progressing slowly. I am with you more than you know. Use your inner feelings and maybe you can feel my presence.”

I ask if she realizes that we are all supporting each other.

“There is strength in unity.”

“Do you mind us contacting you?”

“No.” Andrea asks, “Do you know when I will be able to join you?”

“We are not privy to that. That is part of God’s master plan. It is very beautiful here and my life is complete. All of my needs are being met. I miss you, Mother, and I miss my sisters and the cat. I don’t miss earth.”

Rutledge said that whenever God was mentioned all of the girl’s facial expressions glowed. They appeared happy that Amber had a contact. One girl was Asian and the other two were white. Rutledge laughed as he told us that Amber is still so smart that she has difficulty simplifying her statements for him.

She expresses her frustration, usually by blowing up her bangs and sighing in a non-offensive manner. Amber’s exasperation with Rutledge’s non-comprehension humbles us all. Humans think that they are so smart.

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Talking with all “The Kids”

July 17, 1997 Alice is in Las Vegas visiting this week. Her sister’s car stalled at a local store.

She and Marty decided to call for assistance from a restaurant. They saw a trail of feathers from the car to the restaurant. Why so many feathers? Were they all from Michael?

Joann called and said that she had been having a down day. She found a feather in her pool.

July 18, 1997 (Evening)

Rutledge found Michael in his dorm room praying. Rutledge said, “Michael, your mother is so discouraged.”

“Dad, I gave her a feather to comfort her. Tell Mom life is the unexpected, even I don’t know what is going to happen the next day. Mom, try to be strong. Tell Joann thanks for spending so much time with you. Tell her not to worry about Gene. He is progressing well.”

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Michael knew that Joann was on the patio with us.

Rutledge told Michael that the three of us had just seen a movie and wanted to know if he saw movies.

“I have no need for that type of earthly thing. Thank you for letting Selwyn come, and thanks for giving him my tapes and CD’s. I realize that you have no use for them. Dad, I saw a lot of famous people today.”

“Who?” “Martin Luther King came down from a higher level to visit us. He is on a higher level and looks so good. I also met Miles Davis and Nehru.”

We told Michael that we were happy for him. I asked if I should try to contact Denise’s parents.

“I will have to ask Denise. Mom, please be strong and try to live one day at a time.”

Joann asked Michael to please ask God if he would allow him to be with her the day of her minor surgery.

“It is already preplanned. God and the angels will be there.”

“Michael, why did God give your father his gift?”

“To reassure and comfort you.”

We all say goodbye to Michael and he returns to praying.

Five minutes later Rutledge closed his eyes briefly and saw Amber without really searching for her. She was going to a formal dance and looked beautiful in a long, straight blue gown, low cut off her shoulders. She had on long white gloves. Amber was dancing with a guy who looked to be about six feet tall, with keen features. Perhaps a Palestinian. They were dancing and laughing. One

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minute he saw her at the dorm, and the next minute she was at the dance. The dance is in a beautiful ballroom.

“Hi, please tell Sara I miss her rosy cheeks. Tell Jenna that I am with her more than she realizes. I am glad that she has found a boyfriend, but she needs to be careful.”

“Why should she be careful?”

“I don’t want to talk about what I mean by be careful. I really love and miss my mother. Please tell her that I think I might be able to visit her soon.”

There are also several young people at the dance between the ages of eight and ten. They are all dressed in formal attire. Amber breaks in again as Rutledge looks around.

“Tell my Mom that one of the nice things about being here is I don’t need to get manicures and pedicures anymore.”

Rutledge then sees Josh at the dance in a beautiful black tuxedo with a shiny silk lapel. His shirt is ribbed and white. Josh is dancing with a beautiful blonde girl. He sees some adults and kids hanging around a punch bowl.

Rutledge says, “Hi, Josh.”

Josh laughs and says, “Hi. Please tell my parents that I am playing the best tennis that I have ever played in my life.”

“What about tournaments?”

“There are no tournaments. My hand and eye coordination are the best they have ever been. There is no competition. I love and miss my parents and think of them often.”

Rutledge comments that Josh’s hair is a beautiful auburn color.

“Josh, how do you know Michael?”

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“We met under the most unusual circumstances. You know about our dates matching. I met Michael the day after he died. I am fine and having a good time.”

“Why didn’t Michael go to the dance?”

“Because he had other things to do. Michael is not that interested in formal dances.”

“What is the dance for?”

“R & R, and to glorify God.” “Do you know Amber?”

“Yes, Amber is really smart.”

“Do you and Michael still play in the band together?”

“Yes, we still play together sometimes.”

“Are you aware that we talked to your parents after we saw you on stage with Michael?”

“Thanks for talking to my parents. I wasn’t aware. It all depends on growth and progress over here.”

Gene, Joann’s son, walks into the ballroom. Everyone stops and applauds.

He looks handsome and has a Fu Man Chu beard. A girl asks him to dance but Gene declines saying that he doesn’t know how to dance.

The girl says, “Yes, you can. Trust yourself and your inner feelings.”

Gene says, “Mother, praise God. I love you.”

“Gene, I love you so much.”

Gene is now dancing. Boy, is he dancing. Joann and I wish we could see every-

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thing. Everyone clears the floor to let Gene dance. Gene acts embarrassed and tells them to join in. Amber walks over and kisses Gene on the cheek and tells him, “I am so glad that you finally made it. I have been praying for you.”

Rutledge is fascinated with Amber’s dress. The dress has splits on both sides and beautiful sequins on the top part.

“What are those sequins on the top of your dress, Amber?”

“Diamonds.”

“Real diamonds?”

“Yes, but you have to understand that they have no value here.”

Rutledge sees Gene ask another girl to dance.

We call Andrea after we compose ourselves. We talked to all of the kids for about twenty-five minutes. Andrea is excited and said that was the dress she was probably making the first time we contacted her.

All of us were too overstimulated to talk. Joann left and we went to bed but couldn’t sleep for many hours. I actually became nervous and started to cry.

God is good. God exists.

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A Special Visit from Michael July 19, 1997 Joann called this morning to say that she received a feather on her dining room floor. She feels that it is a thank you feather.

Alice and her sister, Marty, spend the night with us. As we visited on the patio we noticed cold air blowing on all of us at least three different times. The trees are not moving. We know it is Michael. Marty is excited but apprehensive.

She doesn’t know as much about the past year as the rest of us.

Rutledge had felt Michael’s presence but did not want to have a visit in front of Alice and Marty. Also, he was very tired. He finally closed his eyes and Michael popped in to talk with us.

“Hi, Dad, I have been trying to contact you but it has been difficult.”

Rutledge sees a different entrance to the dorm. Beautiful white stone stairs lead to a door. Michael is standing at the bottom of the stairs. A beautiful shimmering white image is walking upright behind Michael as he descends the stairs. Everything is white. Rutledge sees the armor of an angel. He be-

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comes fearful for himself and Michael.

“Michael, what is that behind you?” Michael is not fazed.

“That is my guardian angel.”

“What is his name?”

“Ezekiel.”

The angel disappears. “Do you know that Alice and Marty are visiting?”

“Yes, I know you have company. I just wanted to drop in for a few minutes to visit.”

Michael has never popped in before. Perhaps he wanted Alice and Marty to experience Rutledge’s gift. The next morning they reported that a bird sang beautiful notes outside the guest bedroom window for most of the night.

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Visiting Jonathan

July 20, 1997 Joyce and her husband, Sam, came over in the early evening to try for another contact with Jonathan. Joyce had been a little sad lately. Rutledge saw kids on a playground roller blading. Jonathan was not there although he loved to roller blade. Finally Jonathan was found in a dorm room, sitting at a table.

Two other males, around the same age, are in his room. A white male was sitting on the window sill. The black male was sitting on a bed reading.

“Hi, Jonathan.”

“Hi. Thanks for contacting me again. I thought you would never get back. My mom and dad are there, aren’t they?”

“What are you doing?”

“We are studying and quizzing each other. Please tell my parents hello, and tell them that I love and miss them. Tell my brother that he would love what I am learning.”

“What are you learning?”

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“I am learning about the creation and formation of the earth.”

“Tell us about the Academy.”

“It is very difficult to get into the Academy. A panel makes the decision. A lot of kids are qualified to go. Only a few are selected.”

“What are you studying?”

“The essence of man and his relationship with God and the Universe.”

“Have you seen God?” “No, I don’t have to see Him to know He exists.”

Joyce asks if he has seen her sister, Dorothy.

“I have seen her twice, but she is in another sphere.”

“Have you seen Ian?” “No.” Sam asks if he had seen his brother, Earl.

“Only in a vision. I see my grandfather as often as I can. I enjoy spending time with him.”

Rutledge asks, “Are you on a campus?”

“It is called a complex. It is not defined as high school or college. You study the things you need to reach a higher level. I spend time with my great grandmother.”

The boy sitting in the window said, “My name is Tony.”

The boy sitting on the bed smiled and continued to read.

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“Jonathan, do you have anything special to say to your dad?”

“Dad, I really miss you but I don’t regret where I am. I have visited you in what you call a dream.”

“Have you attempted to reach your mother?”

“I have tried many times, but children are too emotionally attached to their mothers.”

Tony says, “That’s why I can’t get in touch with my mom.”

Jonathan continues, “It is very difficult to get in touch with mothers, I have tried several times.”

Joyce reminds Jonathan that they will leave for the reunion again.

He said, “I know.”

“Will we be safe?”

“The angels and God will be there. Keep in mind that although my death was an accident, it was part of God’s plan. Remember, death is not painful. Don’t think of death in human terms. It will make you sad. Dad, stay strong. You are headed in the right direction. Death is something we all have to go through.”

“Should we be happy for you?”

“Yes, please be happy for us. Remember, it is all a part of God’s plan.”

Joyce and Sam also lost their seven year old granddaughter in the same car accident. Joyce asks her son if he has seen Jocelyn.

“Yes. She is fine. Remember to stay strong and that God does exist. Mom, although I can’t contact you like I would like to, a lot of times I am kissing you on the cheek while you are in bed.”

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Rutledge asks about the guest lecturers that Michael met.

“I heard about the visitors but I was involved in another project. Mom, the ball bouncing in the house is me reassuring you that I am still playing soccer and happy. Dad, sometimes I am with you in the car, but you don’t see me. When you feel the breeze on your face, I am kissing you.”

I ask if he knows the grief and agony parents go through when they lose a child.

“Yes, but I know you will get through it.”

Jonathan then tells his parents that he loves them.

Rutledge tells Joyce and Sam that Jonathan had on khaki pants and a big white shirt (no logo). His hair is cut short. It was daytime there. The other kids in the room were excited for Jonathan. Whenever God is mentioned a certain reverence comes over their faces.

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Searching for Michael

July 22, 1997 Jan called this morning. She had been sick with the flu and received two feathers from Michael.

Joann received a feather this morning. She’s been worried about her surgery scheduled for this Friday. Michael, with the help of God, must want to reassure her.

Today Rutledge was working out at the Athletic Club, on the treadmill with headphones, when Michael popped in to visit. Rutledge saw Michael with his father, Adam, on a silver escalator surrounded by beautiful clouds.

Denise is a few steps behind Michael pulling playfully on his shirt.

Michael laughs and says, “Hi, Dad. I’m moving on up.”

Rutledge then sees a white chariot go by quickly with an angel with wings in a white robe. The chariot is being pulled by two white horses.

We surmised that Rutledge’s father has been in the spirit world for 51 years.

Perhaps he was taking Michael and Denise for a visit on a higher level.

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July 25, 1997 Joann had surgery today. As Michael promised, God and the angels watched over her. She said while under two angels in white, with wings, hovered over her.

She said, “You came!”

The angels said in unison, “Yes.” We visited her at her home the next day. As we left, her husband found a feather when he walked back into the house. Thank you, God. Thank you, Son. Joann has been so very good to us.

July 26, 1997 That night Rutledge looked for Michael and couldn’t find him. He then searched for Amber and finds her in face only.

Rutledge said, “Hi, Amber. I can’t find Michael.”

“I know. He is in the Catacombs (Rome) studying. That’s why you can’t find him.

I have heard of the area, but I don’t know much about it. Please tell my mom and sisters that I am doing fine. Everything is going well and I am real busy.”

“Amber, did you meet some famous people the other day also?”

“I went to the lectures and met Margaret Meade, Dr. Livingston, Dr. Einstein, and many others. It depended on areas of interest as to whom you met. Tell my mom that I love her and think of her often and that I miss my sisters. Don’t worry. Michael is fine. Where he is, few people go. I have a few things to do now and I must go.”

“Thanks, Amber, we love you.”

“I love you too.”

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Audrey called to say that she received a feather by her fig tree. She said that she was in need of a feather that day.

July 27, 1997 Rutledge sees Michael in a dark suit with a white shirt, standing on a stage at a lecture, in a large auditorium packed with people. Michael is in the process of speaking to the audience.

He is saying, “The essence of man is directly related to his relationship with God, the Creator, and His son, Jesus Christ. God is oneness and must be considered with singleness unlike anything we have experienced before. All of us are here because of God’s love and reassurance. If you ever doubt His love, remember the 23rd psalm.

It is for everyone to know and believe. I value my relationship with God above all things. Always put God first and everything else will fall in order.”

The audience applauded enthusiastically. Michael sits down and wipes his brow.

Rutledge said, “We love you, Son, and we are so proud of you.”

Michael answered, “Thanks, Dad.” The audience calls for him to return to the stage to field questions.

Denise and Michael are next seen at a large reception. People of all ages are talking and a group has formed around Michael. There are refreshments and a punch bowl. Denise has on a short red dress and has her arm looped in Michael’s arm. Rutledge contacts Denise because Michael is too involved in conversation.

“Hi, Denise.”

“Hi, how are you guys doing?”

“Was Michael the guest speaker?”

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“Yes, isn’t he wonderful?”

“When did he get back from his trip?”

“Yesterday, your time.”

“We miss him, Denise.”

“He misses you, too.”

The message that Michael gave to the audience was inspirational, but the people reacted to the words in a manner that would lead you to believe they had little or no religious training. Most of what Michael said was pretty basic. Perhaps he was speaking to a group of people in a lower spiritual level.

July 28, 1997 Today we gave the scholarship check to Madika’s father. He excitedly told us that Madika would be leaving for Howard University on August 15th, the anniversary of Michael’s death. I wonder if our children feel proud when memorials and scholarships are set up in their name?

July 30, 1997 Rutledge searched for Michael many different places, but could not find him. I guess that I have become ungrateful. I had the nerve to become distressed.

July 31, 1997 Again Rutledge searched for Michael, but to no avail. Michael always says that he is busy. Where could he be now? We decided not to bother Amber.

A few minutes after Rutledge stopped projecting, my brother called to let me know that our Uncle James passed on Wednesday evening, July 30th. I noticed that Rutledge immediately closed his eyes as I relayed the message to him. He

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grabs a piece of paper and begins to write. I suspect that he has located Michael.

We now realize that we could not locate Michael the night before because he was probably helping Uncle James cross over to his new life.

Rutledge sees, with his eyes open, Uncle James walk through a wall that looks like shimmering water (not wet). He is greeted by my mother, Ann, Michael, and Rhodes, my father. Uncle James and my mother were real close. Ann and James are embracing as Michael and Rhodes look on smiling. Ann and James walk hand in hand and hug each other.

Ann said, “You are going to love it here. Now we can have all of the time you want.”

Then Ann, Rhodes, James, and Michael form a circle and hold each other.

Ann and James continue to kiss and walk hand in hand while looking into each others eyes. Michael and Rhodes walk behind them and talk to each other. Ann touches the back of James’ neck and caresses his head.

Michael called out, “Uncle James, there is so much I want to share with you.”

Ann’s face is glowing. She said, “I have waited on this for so long.”

They all tell James that they are taking him to see Dorothy, his wife. Aunt Mary appears (their sister who passed over May, 1997) and expresses her joy at seeing James. Rutledge remarks that Ann will not share her brother with anyone. The others smile and walk a few paces behind. Michael continues to talk to Rhodes, but the conversation can not be heard. Ann explains to James that they have all been praying for him and awaiting his arrival.

They are all walking on a beautiful unpaved road with surrounding scenery of grass, trees, and flowers. Ahead, on a slight hill, is a large country home.

It appears that Dorothy is waiting for all of them in the house. Rutledge notices that James has on beige slacks and a blue shirt.

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CHAPTER 21

You Can Fly

August 1, 1997 (morning)

I received a phone call from my secretary, Carol, this morning. She has just returned from a vacation in Hawaii with her husband. She is excited because she has conquered her fear of flying. She had asked Michael to be with her on her flights and he assured her he would. His presence was felt from time to time as he telepathically assured her throughout her trip. She was also proud that she rode a motorcycle around the island with her husband without fear. She directly related her new calmness and trust to the comfort provided by Michael’s spirit. God has allowed Michael to touch so many lives through His master plan for our lives.

August 2, 1997 I had been working on the book all day and decided to take a break on the patio. I glanced behind my chair and found a feather. Thank you, God. Every feather confirms that God exists. I am doing the right thing by sharing our miracles.

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Rutledge sees a theatre, with an orchestra performing on the stage. Many family members are present: Ann, Rhodes, Michael, Denise, Uncle James, Aunt Dorothy, Aunt Mary, Uncle Ulysses, and Flora and Adam. Someone mentioned that Uncle Joe decided not to attend.

Ann looks around and says, “Hi, Rutledge.”

“Hi, Ann, you look so good.”

Ann says, “Oh, Rutledge.”

Rhodes says, “Hi, Rutledge.”

My mother then says, “Please tell Julia that I love her. I know that I never got to meet Michael before he was born, but it is wonderful having him here with us now.”

Flora has tears in her eyes and relates, “I am as happy as can be. I love being with Adam and Michael and other family members.”

Aunt Mary says, “I am happy to be here and also happy that James is with us.”

James says to Ann in a low voice, “You were right. I am really enjoying myself.

It is wonderful to be free from pain and suffering. I like my new body.”

Michael says, “Hi, Dad. Pray for Rahni. I miss him.”

“Why has your friend, Eric, never contacted us?” Rutledge asks.

“I don’t know, Dad. I was getting away from the studio anyway, but I still miss Bakmeil and the gang sometimes. I miss Ipuna’s friendship. I pray for her.”

Denise breaks in, “Hi, I appreciate the offer to contact my family. My address was Logan Street in Chicago.”

“What are your parents’ names?”

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“Jerry (Gerald) and Donna Alice.”

“Tell Mom that I love her. She is doing the right thing.”

Rhodes says, “Tell Julia I love her, and I am sorry about everything that happened.”

I ask Rutledge to tell my father that I love him, too, and I am sorry also.

My father says, “Thank you.”

Ann smiles and seems pleased. Flora tells Rutledge that she spends time with Aunt Lil and Aunt Frances, her sisters.

Michael kisses Denise on the cheek, “Dad, I really love this girl.” Denise smiles.

All of the men are dressed in formal attire.

James remarks, “I am glad to be with Dorothy and my family and Michael.

The last time I saw Michael he was a baby.”

Mary says, “I am glad to have James here and I miss Nettie.”

Ann asks, “Would you please tell Rhodes (my brother) and Nina and the kids that I love them. I am proud of Nina and the kids.”

“Do you know the kids names?”

“Yes, Jessica is very much like me.”

“Mom and Dad, please go on with your lives. I enjoy watching you and visiting you.”

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Amber’s Monthly Anniversary

August 5, 1997 Andrea calls this morning. She is upset because today is the 5th of the month. Amber died on January 5, 1997. Parents usually get upset on the anniversary date each month. We decide to ask Rutledge if he would contact Amber this evening.

Andrea came over to the house around 7:00 p.m. and the three of us briefly chatted about our bereavement progress and setbacks. Andrea and I observed Rutledge opening and closing his eyes and smiling. He had been holding Amber off because she was appearing in face only. Rutledge contacted Amber with his eyes open. She was sitting on a concrete slab in what appeared to be a quad area. Amber was shaking her head and tapping her foot in frustration. She had been waiting for Rutledge to acknowledge her.

Rutledge described her clothes, jeans and a white sleeved sweater shirt. It was daytime there.

“Hi, Amber.” Amber puffs and says, “I have had a pretty difficult day. I miss my mother and my sisters.”

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CHAPTER 22

“Why was your day so difficult?”

“Rutledge, I have been trying to contact you because I know my mother is there.

Please tell her not to be frustrated, because I know she is. Tell her to stay strong.

Believe that my death was preplanned, and it did not happen in vain.”

“Amber, what is the difference in your time and our time?”

“Time is relative; time depends on where you are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t explain the difference to you. Please tell my mother that everything is going to be fine. I have been traveling.”

“Can you tell me if you are in another dimension?”

“Yes, it is another dimension, but it is the spirit world.”

“How are the worlds different?”

“There is no capitalism, no worries about the economy, and all of our needs are provided for.”

Andrea asked how they get around.

“We get around by the power of the Holy Spirit. We can be where we want to be if we have reached a certain growth level. It is a very safe place; no danger. It is difficult to explain. It is better here. There is no competition. We have peaceful co-existence where we all help each other. Everyone is interested in growing spiritually.”

Andrea asked Amber to please continue to watch out for her sister, Jenna.

Amber giggles. “I understand. I am eternally happy now. We are at peace with ourselves and with everyone here.”

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“Is this place called heaven?”

“No. It is not heaven. It is one of the levels.”

“Are you and Michael on the same level?”

“Yes.” “Why?” Amber says, “Because of spiritual growth, process and adjustment.”

Rutledge asks if she knows Ian Ball, a fellow acolyte and friend of Michael’s who has passed over.

“I know Ian. He is a nice young man. A lot of people care for him, and he is doing well. Ian has a lot of friends here.”

“Amber, where does God exist?”

“God exists within each and every person. It is necessary for everyone to come here, but you always have God within you there. The growth that you experience here is rapid because your interest is so high if you make the adjustment. Mom, please tell Sarah that she will have a good year in school. Tell Jenna to do well and not to get senioritis.”

Rutledge asks Amber if she is surprised that he can contact her.

“No, several others have been able to contact me, but you are the only one who knows my family.”

I ask if she knew me at Green Valley High School.

Amber says, “No, but I knew of you. Uncle Tim is doing fine and making good progress. I spend a lot of time with him now.”

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CHAPTER 22

Amber flicks her hair. Several people are trying to talk to her. Andrea asks if she maintains contact with friends.

“Yes, but not the kind of contact you think of. I pray for them. I miss my boyfriend.”

Andrea told her that she is taking care of Jason for her. Amber told us that she must leave.

“Hugs and kisses. God is love.” Amber walked away and waved goodbye saying, “I love you.”

Rutledge remarked that Amber had on a beautiful gold necklace with a piece of a gold teardrop.

August 7, 1997 (Morning)

I met Carol, my secretary, for coffee to discuss the book. We arrived at the same time in the parking lot and noticed a beautiful dark grey feather near the back wheel of my car. Michael left Carol a feather near her laundry room two days ago. Do the feathers have something to do with the book?

August 8, 1997 (Afternoon)

Alice called from El Paso, Texas, to tell us that her mother passed on at 1: 45 p.m. today. She and her family are sorrowful about their loss, but happy that her mother will be free of illness and finally with her father. Heather, Alice’s niece, found three feathers in the hospital, one in the waiting room.

Her family feels that, with the help of God, Michael has been watching over them. Alice said that she whispered to her mother to go toward the light and look for her relatives. She also told her to try to find Michael Rutledge.

Much of God’s woven master plan continues to unfold. God knew that Alice and her family would need all of the spiritual enlightenment that

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she had gained over the past year, step by step, with me and others in the loop. The miracles we have witnessed and shared changed our whole way of thinking and our entire lives. Alice, and her family, will be able to accept their mother’s death and move on. Our God-given spiritual enlightenment does not remove all grief, but knowing for sure of loved ones eternal happiness and continued life brings joy to the heart and a calmness that surpasses all understanding. God is love. God exists.

August 10, 1997 We sat on the patio for a few minutes and saw a cloud formed in the shape of an angel. Rutledge took a picture. Rutledge tried to find Michael but could not locate him.

August 11, 1997 (Early evening)

Carol came over to discuss the typing of the book. We laughed as she told me that a bird had flown close to her face and then dropped a single feather near her. Carol mentioned that she thinks Michael feels she ignores some of his feathers if they don’t look clean enough. I know that Michael wants Carol to type the book. Her feathers are a thank you and an acknowledgement.

Later the same evening Rutledge searched for Michael again, but was unable to contact him. He decided not to bother Amber again. Maybe we are using the gift too much.

August 12, 1997 (P.M.) Rutledge tried to project. Michael was out of pocket again. Rutledge’s face mirrored concern. We decided to search for Denise. Perhaps they were together because he couldn’t find her either.

I am extremely restless this night and find it difficult to stop the countdown to August 15th. We have decided against placing an anniversary poem and

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picture in the newspaper. Michael would want our grief to remain private.

The clock on the headboard read 2:00 a.m. My constant tossing and turning irritated me. Why can’t I sleep? Off to the family room sofa, my comfort zone. When I closed my eyes, I saw little red, heart-shaped kisses, on a background of white, zooming toward me. Beautiful white feathers were falling between the kisses. Michael was sending the kisses and feathers. He told me telepathically that he had been out of town, and to tell his father to contact him the next day. I also pictured handwriting on a tablet that mentioned the words “joy” and “Michael.” The tablet would not stay in focus. All of this happened while I was awake with my eyes closed. The stimulation caused me to remain sleepless the rest of the night.

August 13, 1997 (A.M.) The countdown is still on, but we both feel better since Michael visited me last night. I guess we both fear that one day Rutledge’s gift may be taken back.

My summer vacation ended on August 11th, and I am again facing teenagers and their parents. The memories flood back and make me sad. Michael must know my sadness. I find a small feather as I walk into the building.

August 13, 1997 (P.M.) Rutledge projected and found Michael walking briskly down the street of the complex. It was night there also. Michael is wearing light colored jeans and a dark blue, long sleeved pullover shirt.

Rutledge asked, “Where have you been?”

“Traveling.”

“Michael, is God responsible for people who are murdered?”

“No, Dad, but God deals individually with murdered people, He rectifies their death.”

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“Why does murder happen?”

“It is man’s inhumanity to man.”

“Why does God allow it to happen?”

“Dad, it is because of one, or several, of the seven deadly sins.”

“I know that you guys are a little down this week because of what happened, but don’t be. I am where I should be. I think about it too, but I’m not sad. Tell Mom that’s why I sent her the kisses, and told her ‘you will see.’ I have been very busy and that is why I have left the feathers, to reassure you that I am thinking about you although I am not around.”

“Michael, is murder a part of God’s plan?”

“No.” Rutledge told Michael that Nicole Washington, a family friend, said hello and is happy that he is at peace.

He said, “Thank you.”

I tell Rutledge to tell him Betty Sabo, my boss, said hello and that she got the principalship.

Michael smiled and said, “I know that. Tell her I said hi.”

We told him that we were proud of him and love him. He rushed into a building. This visit was shorter than we hoped for, but continued contact would have caused a delay in his busy schedule.

August 14, 1997 We felt Michael’s presence the whole day. A sense of anticipation filled the air.

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2:30 p.m.

Joyce called to check on us. She had recently relived Jonathan’s death anniversary on July 28th. Jonathan had recently given her a small white feather and contacted his father in an amusing way. Although Sam and Joyce were in different rooms, both contacts happened at the same time.

3:30 p.m.

I met Jan for an early dinner. We discussed the book, especially Michael’s explanation of murder. She gave me a beautiful angel night light.

4:50 p.m.

The mail for today included a beautiful card with a message from my neighbor, Becky Jacobs, and her family.

7:45 p.m.

My brother, Rhodes, called to let us know that he was thinking of us. We discussed many events of the past year and our mother, Ann. He made me promise to call him on Saturday to tell him of our anticipated conversation with Michael on August 15th.

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The Anniversary Date August 15, 1997 Anniversary Date

It was unspoken that we both awoke with Michael on our minds. Both of us kept checking each other out visually to look for signs of sadness.

7:00 a.m.

Joann called and said that a little white light followed her in the car to work.

We both believe it was Gene.

8:10 a.m.

Vi called to let us know that we were in her thoughts and prayers. Vi said she had been thinking over the whole year, and that Michael was truly a joy and blessing.

These were the same words I saw on the note pad the night of August 12th.

9:30 a.m.

John Farrell called from San Diego to let us know that he was thinking of us on this day.

10:00 a.m.

Audrey left a phone message asking about a good time to stop by later. She and David had arranged for flowers, in Michael’s memory, to be placed on the church altar on Sunday, August 17th.

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1:00 p.m.

Shirley Lizotte called on her lunch hour to let us know that she had been praying and thinking of us and Michael. She left an angel card at the grave site.

Shirley also extended an invitation to Michael to pop in to talk anytime.

1:20 p.m.

We received a beautiful bouquet of flowers from the counselors and my secretary. The staff of Green Valley High School was still supporting us.

2:30 p.m.

Linda called crying and said that Michael had touched all of our lives this year. She wanted us to know that we were in her thoughts all day.

3:00 p.m.

I talked with Alice and Marty and told them that Michael had seen and talked with their mother. They were overwhelmed and emotional.

3:10 p.m.

Andrea called to touch base with us. She dreamed the night before of a book she felt compelled to purchase. The book was written in German, and Amber had taken four years of German in high school.

I felt the dream meant that this book would be translated into many languages. I cannot explain why that thought crossed my mind during our conversation.

4:35 p.m.

Vi called to say that she felt especially blessed. She had just found a beautiful white feather in her garage. Vi thanked Michael.

6:30 p.m.

Joann’s son, in Maryland, called her to reveal that he had received a feather that floated to his feet as he was leaving for a job interview.

6:40 p.m.

Nina and Rhodes received approximately thirty small white feathers on the patio in California.

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8:30 p.m.

Joyce dropped by the house as a show of support. While we discussed our year long enlightenment, we heard drumbeats on three separate occasions.

A light also flashed across the three of us. The contacts left us speechless, but not surprised.

Rutledge and I are amazed that so many people remember and have taken the time to call or stop by the house. Michael’s godmother, in D.C., had called on Tuesday to avoid the emotionalism of Friday the 15th. Ipuna and I agreed earlier not to talk on the 15th. We knew we would only feed into each others sadness.

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CHAPTER 24

Conversation with Michael August 15, 1997

(Projection was experienced in the morning) 8:40 a.m.

Rutledge attempted to reconstruct Michael’s accident in his head. Michael popped in in face and told him, “Dad, don’t do that. Don’t try to think about my accident. It will make you sad. I had no control over what happened to me.

I am happy. Please rejoice and be happy for me. Tell Mom that I love her.”

11:27 a.m.

Rutledge projects to find Michael and saw him outside of a classroom in the complex. Michael is wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Denise is with him and wearing a brown dress.

“Tell Mom that I love her. I attended a small celebration, two days ago your time, of being reunited with God and Jesus. The celebration was for my death anniversary. I am doing fine and I have been very busy. I wanted to take a little time to spend with you and Mom to let you know that everything is fine.” Michael said.

Rutledge asked, “What happens to children and babies when they die? Who takes care of them?”

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“Dad, the best way that I can explain it is for you to think about the way you and Mom cared for me while I was young. That’s the way they are cared for here. They are reunited with God and He takes care of His children. They don’t die. They continue to live. There are several ways they are cared for. In some instances, people who have died who are childless, or people who love children, will care for them. They continue to live. Sometimes the child’s guardian angel, or angels, care for them. Dad, they don’t miss anything. Their life goes on.”

“What is the difference in your time and our time?”

“It depends on the day here. Different days have different time.”

Rutledge told Michael that we had planned to visit the cemetery today to place flowers on his grave.

Michael said, “That is a nice memorial to do, but keep in mind that I am not there.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is difficult to explain, Dad, but I will try. My soul and spirit live on.”

“How do they live on?”

“My soul and spirit are like an eternal flame that never goes out.”

Denise is seen kissing Michael on his cheek. Michael then told his father that he had met Ian (second acolyte who died).

“Ian is fine and we share a lot together,” Michael said.

“Michael, have you met Alice’s mother who passed on a week ago?”

“I met her several days ago our time. She is here with family members. She is now living in the glory of God. She is fine and very happy.”

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“Son, how did you meet her? How did you know?”

“I was requested.”

“How many people are where you are?”

“It is uncountable. They all have a mission and a purpose that is directly related to God. Don’t be sad. I know that I have told you that before.”

“We love you, Son, and miss you.”

“I love and miss you guys too. My existence goes on forever.”

Michael lives. God exists.

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Insights, Emotions & Enlightenment THE PARENTS ANDREA ROBEY I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her sail to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, “There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”

Gone from sight. That’s all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “There, she is gone!” There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”

And that is dying.

—ANONYMOUS

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The words flowed from my lips, and somehow I felt inspired, and supported – held up on each side by some kind of strength. Where it came from I didn’t know, but later I found out. My life was shattered, my heart was in shreds, as I spoke these words at my daughter’s memorial service. I knew I could not go on unless I knew Amber was safe and happy. I prayed, and begged God to help me.

In sharing my grief with the Rutledges and other parents, we found we were connected not only through our children and their passing, but other ways as well. “God’s plan is perfect” they have told us, and we are still amazed at how it unfolds.

Through the gift that God has bestowed on Evans, we have been able to remain close and in contact with our loved ones. We have learned so much about the spiritual world. Our small group of grieving parents has become a close group of friends and family, both here and there. The changes in my life, my spirituality, my attitude and my goals are profound. My daughter’s passing has truly changed me forever.

With the help and support of the “loop” on the physical and spiritual side, I have grown in ways I am unable to put into words. Life does not end. Love does not end. It continues from this world into the next.

Your loved ones are safe, they are home with God. He will take care of them with the help of their angels and others in the spiritual dimensions. They will always be spiritual dimensions. They will always be your child, your mother, your brother, your sister, your father, and you will be with them again.

God has let us know this, and He will comfort you. You just have to ask and believe. Do not give up hope, for God loves you and will help you. We have been given the opportunity to share with our children life eternal. I believe we are supposed to share with others these messages from God. Although I still hurt, cry, and miss my baby, I know I must go on to fulfill my mission in this world. I cannot give up hope. Our children have assured

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us that God and angels will comfort and help us. We may not always understand, but everything will flow within God’s plan. Never give up. You will find a way to “communicate.”

During the past nineteen months, I have been comforted by dreams of Amber, the feeling of her presence, the smell of her perfume, feathers from Michael, and detailed verbal communications through Rutledge. How wonderful it is to know that my child still lives and is safe, productive, and happy.

JOYCE WILSON “A seed was planted, it was nourished – a bud developed. This bud was lovingly nurtured and it blossomed into a beautiful flower. This beautiful flower was plucked long before each petal was in full bloom.”

“Goodbye my beautiful flower.”

“My indescribable anger over the loss of my son has become an inspirational Peace from within. I now know one day we will be together.”

—MOM It was a Saturday morning and I had a few errands to run. Some of which required a trip across town. I wanted to finish early in the day to avoid the heavy traffic. Around eleven o’clock I completed my errands and used the expressway to return home. The radio was on, and I kept switching stations because nothing seemed to suit my particular interest. Finally, I decided on a station and began to flow with the traffic.

The traffic was moving a bit fast. Within the next few minutes I was brought to immediate attention by a “voice” that stated in an urgent tone, “Turn off the radio.” I was quite startled. A chill went through me. However, I immediately reached for the knob. I began to shiver and goose bumps covered my arms. What did this mean? I was terribly shaken and had difficulty concentrating on the freeway traffic.

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A few minutes later I found out what the “voice” meant. I heard the air hissing from my tire. The road became extremely bumpy and I held the steering wheel tightly. As I made my way to the far right traffic lane, the driver of the vehicle beside me pointed to my right back tire. When I could finally pull over I got out to see the problem. To my amazement I had lost a whole tire, only the rim remained. I stared in disbelief! At that moment I had no doubt an angel had spoken to me earlier. I believe that angel to be my son.

Oh, Jonathan.

On another occasion I was stopped at a traffic light. The light seemed to hang in an unusual manner. I had just left the credit union and decided to review my deposit slip, place my license back in the proper compartment, and check the ledger for accuracy. When the light changed, I paused for a few seconds to return everything to my purse. As I approached the intersection a car was running the red light. The car was moving at a tremendous rate of speed. It was immediately clear that had I not paused, I would have been crushed from the impact of the other car. I thanked God and my angel again. Who caused the slight distractions to save my life?

Since Jon’s death I have had other unusual experiences. I feel as though I am always surrounded by a tremendous energy force. Sometimes I look around to be sure no physical presence is near. Jon is near. I cannot see him, but I know of his continued life. I often hear the sounds of a soccer ball being dribbled throughout the house. These and other experiences give me great comfort.

When I was first able to verbally communicate with Jon through Evans Rutledge, it was such an emotional experience. I think I cried much of the time, but was relieved to know that Jon is well, living a safe and happy life in a perfect world, and progressing spiritually and intellectually. I have been better able to control my tears lately. The visits don’t eliminate my grief, nor my depression, but they do offer comfort and the assurance of God’s love and eternal life for all.

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SAM WILSON Jonathan’s abrupt transition brings to fore one of the most important lessons one can learn – live in the NOW! Do it now! Say it now! Never put off for tomorrow what could and should be done today. “I love you.” “Great job.” The list is endless.

Evans Rutledge’s description of Jon’s present environment and existence lifted a great burden as I discovered that even now, after Jon’s transition, it is not too late to say things previously unsaid, as life is perpetual – only different dimensions, realms, stages, and plateaus. Now Jon is included in my daily prayers exactly the same as are others – regardless of their present dimension. I find myself frequently communicating with Jon – very confident that my messages are getting through – messages generally unspoken before his transition: “You are the best.”

“I appreciate your sense of fairness.”

“I love your effort, attention to detail, sense of humor, energy, and contributions to the whole.”

I frequently sense Jon’s presence while driving and around home, while active as well as inactive, and particularly while doing yard work. Silhouettes of pieces of furniture, appliances, flowers, and other items have on several occasions created very life-like images of Jon when viewed from just the right angle, while in a certain frame of mind. Our visits with Jon, via Evans, are very heartwarming and appreciated as they often confirm Jon’s visits with me.

I leave each visit reassured, and looking forward to the next.

I consider myself a much better person (spiritual entity) since Jon’s transition as I consciously focus daily on improvement in areas such as: – Daily giving mental recognition to the non-stop blessings – Looking for occasions to pay compliments – without hesitation – Assessing words spoken in haste – Eliminating potentially harmful words, actions, and deeds Jon’s memory is indeed a permanent fixture, and with the blessing of Evans, he is only a conversation away.

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BEST FRIEND IPUNA ESTAVILLO I shared a closeness with Michael that I cannot describe. We knew what each other was thinking before words were spoken. He is truly my best friend.

I went into shock after hearing Michael had passed. Many thoughts and questions clouded my mind. Who can I talk with or relate to now? Why Michael? Why my best friend? I felt alone and cheated by God. The first month I cried continually. Why would God take someone with such wisdom? Little did I realize Michael had only transcended to another dimension.

Michael’s passing changed my whole outlook on life. The first time he comforted me, I thought I was crazy. One day, as I was driving and thinking of Michael, I began to cry. Everything was flooding my mind – his book bag, our talks, and our friendship dates. A tiny white feather flew in the car window while I was stopped at a traffic light. Before I realized the significance of the feather, many more were floating inside the car. As tears continued to trickle down my cheeks, I started to smile. Somehow I knew Michael was trying to comfort me.

Visiting Michael’s grave site is extremely difficult. Yet, I seem to be drawn there.

During one visit, a beautiful butterfly lighted on the back of my hand and then flew in circles around my head. I followed the butterfly’s movement with my eyes – it landed on a beautiful white feather. I smiled through wet eyes. Michael is still here for me.

English classes were always more difficult for me than Michael. Sometimes hours at the computer brought total frustration. Usually I would ask Michael for assistance. He would smile and help reconstruct my ideas and sentences within minutes. Michael never seemed to mind helping others.

One evening I closed my computer screen after many attempts to revise an English paper. A screen folder titled angel appeared on the computer. Michael sent me a message in my time of need. I knew Michael expected me to contact

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his parents and share the message with others.

Many months have passed now and Michael has appeared to me in brief glimpses in our dimension, and in dream visits. I still receive feathers – mostly when I need confidence or assurance. Michael always built up my self-esteem, especially when I auditioned for modeling jobs. Mr. Rutledge allowed me to speak with Michael through him one evening. Michael was in New York City, in our dimension, on a mission.

I still converse with Michael out loud and imagine his smile as he listens.

He now lives in a perfect world and is eternally happy. His passing is part of a master plan.

Side Well I believe there’s someone watching over you They’re watching every single thing you say And when you die They’ll set you down and take you through You’ll realise one day That the grass is always greener on the other side The neighbour’s got a new car that you wanna drive And when time is running out you wanna stay alive We all live under the same sky We all will live, we all will die There is no wrong, there is no right The circle only has one side We all try hard to live our lives in harmony For fear of falling swiftly overboard But life is both a major and minor key Just open up the chord But the grass is always greener on the other side The neighbour’s got a new car that you wanna drive And when time is running out you wanna stay alive We all live under the same sky We all will live, we all will die There is no wrong, there is no right The circle only has one side SONG WRITTEN BY FRAN HEALY, TRAVIS (BAND)

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Julia Rutledge is a former teacher, mental health therapist, and counselor.

She lives with her husband, Evans, in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Feathers is her first book.

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