Hi David,

I was blessed for many years not to lose anyone I was not prepared to lose. Then about the time I hit forty an old girl friend of mine was killed in motorcycle accident, though wearing a helmet by a drunk driver of a pick up truck. I was furious about this for a long time. My mother died six weeks later and I really couldn't mourn properly because of Shannon's accident. I had emailed Shannon only days before she died hoping somewhere in my heart that we might get back together. I learned that she had made big plans to marry someone else. That didn't bother me. It just tore me up though that she was no longer in the world. I really loved her and still do.

3 years after my mother passed, may father, drinking day and night and missing her so much died of lung cancer. He was perfectly healthy when she died. He chose to be with her the only way he knew how. They were twin souls from birth. Met at the age of 6. 2 months after my father died my best friend in the whole world committed suicide and she did have a lot of problems. All this got me thinking about the people who touch our lives.

I loved those characters but they are all a part of me. We have to learn to let go of the characters as we are the higher Actor within ourselves. Once we do so we see those people we miss all around us. They are not some incarnate being floating around in the ether. They are other flesh and blood aspects of themselves still here working on a different dimension of their Actor Self. We all play many parts and our act is that Heaven (Earth) ages. We are acting this way. Heaven or whatever is already here, but we must each see it for ourselves. No it's not the same body but that was part of a costume that has been discarded now. You will see you friends again, but it will be their eyes and mannerisms that give them away. Not what they say. They are different characters now taking on a new mission. You could easily hook up with the same Actor who played the person you lost. you just have to pay attention to it. Thats my take.

Yours,
Beau