A Conversation About Grief with the Soul of My Husband

Grief is like a wave in the ocean. Sometimes it rises unexpectedly, leaving us wondering if we will experience this pain for the rest of our lives.

There is no single answer to that question because every person's journey is different. Some people eventually go on to live happy, fulfilling lives while maintaining an ongoing connection with the soul of their loved one. For those of us experiencing a more recent loss, however, it takes time for the brain and heart to adjust to the absence of a physical presence that was once such an important part of our daily lives.

Recently, I found myself grieving my husband again. It wasn't because I woke up thinking negative thoughts. Rather, I woke up with an ache in my heart and a touch of sadness. Thankfully, it lifted fairly quickly. Decades ago, when I was in my twenties, I made a conscious decision not to allow depression to take hold of my life. I learned that it is often easier to meet difficult emotions with awareness and compassion in the moment than to let them grow into something much heavier.

Since I communicate with Phil's soul, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and asked him why I was experiencing grief again. His response came immediately:

"You are seeing me through the filters of your mind, which perceives me as gone, instead of through your heart's wisdom, which knows I am still here. You simply cannot see me with your physical eyes.

Think of me as being away on an assignment in another country. We cannot see each other physically, and we miss that physical connection, but we can still communicate, laugh, love, and remain deeply connected while knowing we will be reunited when the assignment is complete. Our bond continues across the distance, just in a different form.

The same applies to our current separation. Our bodies exist at different frequencies. My soul exists at a higher frequency than your physical body, creating the appearance of separation. Yet love, companionship, guidance, and even shared work can continue when both souls agree to remain connected. When your earthly journey is complete, we will be joyfully reunited, soul to soul.

I responded, "But someone reading this might say, 'It's not the same. We can't do earthly things together anymore. We can't help or protect each other in the same way."

His answer was simple:

"While I can no longer drive you somewhere or help in physical ways, I can still support, guide, and protect you energetically. You already know that the portal of imagination allows us to connect and spend time together.

Times are changing. More people are exploring the possibility that consciousness survives death, and research in various fields continues to raise fascinating questions about the nature of reality. Conversations that were once whispered are becoming more common. There is a growing curiosity and openness to the idea that reality may be far greater than what we perceive through our five senses."

As I listened, I felt a deep sense of peace. The message resonated with me in a way that felt unmistakably familiar.

In another post, I'll share some of the remarkable signs Phil gave me on our wedding anniversary—experiences that brought me comfort and are meaningful reminders that love continues beyond physical separation.

And if you knew Phil, you would smile at some of them. He always had a way of running with an idea once he got started, and I often teased him about it when he was here physically. Some things, it seems, never change.