Petrus
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Terri has passed. As I write, the story on Yahoo would now be probably ten minutes old.
I read a story the other day talking about how none of us know her or know anything about her, and so therefore it's rediculous for us to feel anything about her one way or the other. I countered that on my blog though with the opinion that although it's true that I don't know her, and don't know whether or not she should have lived or died definitively, that I didn't understand what was wrong with feeling empathy for her situation. I couldn't control the outcome one way or the other, and I didn't want to. I just found myself feeling a little upset for someone in her situation.
In my mind's eye I'm finding myself picturing her being led out of the white fog I imagined her to be in earlier...There's three or four people with her, and they're taking her to the beautiful park that so many here have mentioned going to...F27...and telling her about all of the wonderful things she has to look forward to now. Although her initial passage was somewhat difficult and lonely, I have a feeling that her coming experience is going to be sufficiently joyous that she will be able in time to forget about that.
It is a beautiful place, that park...at least as I've envisioned it. It's temperate, and there seems to be some kind of bright overlay to everything. Things feel just as solid and real there as they do here, except there is also an odd wispy, ephemeral aspect as well. There is one particular corner of it that I love, which is shaded by a few trees. The sun comes through every now and then and lends some warmth to it, but it's intercut with cool breezes, and the grass and soil are soft and somewhat cool also.
People are coming in all the time; sometimes I think I sit and watch them. Some of them are confused; some of them have come from different parts of the vast expanse of astral space...it's only relatively rarely that someone comes here directly after having died. But they all find their way here eventually.
Terri's sitting at a wooden table with the three or four people who brought her here, now. They're giving her some cold lemonade, for the sensory experience of it to act as a catalyst to her realising where she is...the chill, the bubbles, the sharpness of the carbon. She drinks, immersing herself in the sensation...one of the first she has felt for a very long time...and begins to cry with joy and relief as she realises the experience she just had is over. I'm nearly crying myself as I picture this. She can go wherever she wants, now, and continue to learn and grow...and most of all, she no longer has to experience the degree of aloneness that she did for so long...a level of aloneness that no human being was meant for. She's free.
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