A Skeptic’s Journey Through Grief

As a physician with a strong science background, I used to regard all things spiritual with a jaded eye—until the recent suicide of my young son, Erik. Since then, my life has been cleaved into two parts: The Before and The After, The Bliss and The Dark Despair.

Everyone deals with grief differently. I heal best by journaling my thoughts in a way that helps others. So once I was able to wipe away my tears and crawl out of bed. At first, I shared my grief, pouring my broken heart onto every page. I thought my son had been ripped from my arms forever, but soon, Erik began to challenge that belief by making his presence known to friends and family through smells, touch, apparitions, conversation, and mischievous pranks. These events defied explanation. After all, science taught me that the soul does not survive death and that nonsensical notions like clairvoyance, the afterlife, and reincarnation belong to the domain of New Age freaks and unscrupulous gypsies hunched over crystal balls.

My first reaction was to pour myself into hundreds of books, because not only was I determined to find out if my son was really alive in some other dimension, I needed scientific proof for it. What I discovered was no short of amazing. For one, I came to understand why I was a skeptic to begin with.

4.33 AM

I have always believed in ghosts/ spirits as I, myself have seen one or two. I am believed to be a psychic by many as have spoken to ghosts and seen them frequently.

Ok, I am only 15 but had a lot of things happen to me. A lot of spooky things, unexplainable things. This for instance.

4.33AM

Sometime last year I went to bed like any other day but how that night would change things for months. nothing strange/weird had happened to me for ages and nothing significant had happened in school that day (they say dreams are based on what's happened to you in that day, its your subconscious talking to you.)