Gail's Blog

Mother’s Day Revisited–Kyle’s 1st Year on the Other Side

On Mother’s Day  it will be a year since my son, Kyle, died.  For those of you who have lost the unthinkable, your child, you

Remembering Unconditional Love

Remembering Unconditional Love

wonder how you will get through it.  There are no signposts on this road.  You just manage and then you manage some more.  A part of your own life is over.  You experience intense heartache and nothing relieves it.  Part of you dies with your child and you now will live your life with part of you gone.  The rest of you will wrap yourself around this gaping wound and patch yourself together.  It’s as if someone severed off a vital body part and the remains reconfigure themselves to survive.

It was Mother’s Day morning that he succumbed to cancer.  He cried that he couldn’t take care of me when I became too old to care for myself.  It was the most poignant phone call.  To the end of my days, that conversation is seared in my brain.  His file of writings that he kept of me have never been opened.  I don’t read over his old emails now as it is too painful.  I am sure one day I will smile when I read them but not yet.  My phone was lost so all his texts are gone.

The first year has been healing, however.  In some way his leaving has freed me to go and do what I want or need to do in the time I have remaining here on earth.  When you lose what you don’t think you could ever stand to lose and survive it, you somehow don’t care any more if you exceed protocol.  You can live your life full throttle knowing that you don’t care any more about dumb stuff or what people say or might think–or worse, self-censorship.  You never take things for granted again and you don’t plan too far in advance as things can change on a dime.  You live your life from a guided perspective rather than a controlling perspective.  You now know, for sure, you can’t control anything.

Kyle has visited me three times since he left.  They were all in the dream world but they were very clear visits.  One of them he was in repose and said he couldn’t talk but to be sure to know that no man dies.  In another, he visited me in Armstrong’s nursery here in Los Angeles and delivered a joke while I was purchasing bedding plants.  In yet another dream, he was living upstairs over me (I thought the metaphor perfect) and he needed to come downstairs to borrow one of my microphones.

I learned more about the dying process since he left.  I have learned that it is most important to live while the body is preparing to leave rather than trying to postpone death.  I have learned that we come to earth in spirit form and encapsulate the spirit and soul in this physical body in order to work in this gravitational environment called earth.  When the soul needs to leave and this  physical form is no longer needed, we then create a means to get out of here.  Some choose disease, others accidents, others suicide and various other forms to exit this place.  We execute our plans and get rid of the physical and return to our spirit body taking with us what we learned and all the senses that were attached to the physical body.

We cannot travel the universe in this dense physical body.  This is why it looks like such a black, dark space.  We are frightened by death and most of us panic at the end.  Perhaps, we will begin to educate ourselves about the dying process and death itself.  It is still almost never discussed in our society.  We have funerals and celebrate birth we still don’t touch the dying process.  We all will have this experience one day.

For all of us Mothers on Mother’s Day, it is a day of unconditional love, or Mother’s love.  We rejoice in what we have and the gift of life we delivered.  We honor those who  gave life and helped to bring in a new Soul with the promise of another opportunity to grow, learn and graduate.  Life itself was always the gift.


8 responses to “Mother’s Day Revisited–Kyle’s 1st Year on the Other Side”

  1. Judith says:

    Love your heartfelt message and am sending you lots of love and hugs to comfort you. You are a wonderful gift in my life!

  2. Pam Hale says:

    Gail, you write so clearly about this searing process you have been through, and that is surely comforting to other bereaved mothers. I’m thankful that the experience has reinforced your certainty that we are spiritual beings and never die–despite appearances. May you have many blessings this Mothers Day and always.


  3. Emily Hughes says:

    Sending my condolences and love to you at this painful time, Gail.

    You’re right, if we became more aware that our time on Earth was just us in slumber, I bet we would all become braver in our decision-making and go out for what we want a whole lot more.

    My father couldn’t speak when he was dying and communicated to us through a single tear that fell down his cheek. He suffered with spondylitis most of his adult life and was in a lot of pain. I have seen him so happy and healthy in a dream. I’m so glad he isn’t suffering now.

    Thank you for sharing your experiences with us and my thoughts will be with you on Mother’s Day.

    Love Emily xxx

  4. Wanda Louis says:

    Dear Gail,

    I could not even begin to imagine what the loss of a child could do to a parents soul.

    Over the years I too have suffered the pain of letting go., and with each passing, I experienced different levels of grief, trying to make sense of how quickly they were taken. I no longer try to make sense of it because with each passing my understanding  about the process of death and dying grew, and this I consider to be a blessing.

    You see, both May and June are my months for memorials: 
     In 1998 I was given two gifts, the first was witnessing my wonderful grandmother, Eva Cager, as she made her transition. She always referred to death as a beautiful, thing. Being with her, she gave me what would be her ‘final pearl of wisdom’, that death was nothing to fear and that it is just the next stage that everything living must one day experience.  My lessons began with the stages of death and dying as she was transitioning, it was amazing and on May 6, 1998 at around 2:30 a.m.  my granny ‘s spirit moved on, making room for what would be my second gift; On August 6, 1998 at around 2:30 a.m. my beautiful granddaughter was born. On June 15, 2005 I received a phone call from my mothers physician explaining that my mother had cancer and that we should get to New Orleans as soon as possible.  On June 21st she was gone, and my first visit from her was that November, she came to wish me a happy birthday.

    Then May 7th, 2013 I received a heart renching phone call from my sister,  so instead of celebrating our wedding anniversary my husband and I would be sitting vigil at the hospital with my father.  My dad was scared and refused to accept his prognosis. Once again I witnessed the process of death and dying the only difference my father was frightened knowing that his death was imminent.  In the early morning hours on May 8th my daddy would ask me to help him up, he was insistent he needed to put his feet on the floor, “Mitch is here,” he would say, “help me up.”  My Uncle Alfred had come to ease the process for my daddy (he  had died May 3, 2012) and his fear turned to acceptance. On May 8, 2013  at 12:03 p.m. my Dad made his transition. 

    So, even though my anniversary is surrounded by my loved ones passing, and I do miss them, and cherish the memories, and with Mother’s Day falling on the 8th this year, I will as you so beautifully expressed Gail, honor my mother and grandmother while remembering, death is a part of life, and the gift in between has to do with living each moment.
    One final note, I am finally able to let go of my mother’s things mostly papers and while thumbing through the last folder I found my Mother’s Day card. Thank you mommy, I love you and Happy Mother’s Day.

    Thank you Gail for sharing, and for offering insight, take care.

  5. Karen says:

    Dear Gail,

    My heart goes out to you and I’m glad your son is visiting you and letting you know he’s well and watching over you. When my mom passed she came through my dreams often the first year. My father was heartbroken when she passed and for the next year he told me almost every day that when he passed he would be happy “because then I will be with your mother.” I was close with my dad too but it didn’t hit me as hard only because I knew he was truly happy. I still miss them both very much and sometimes they visit me in my dreams, as well as the three dogs I’ve had in my life through the years, and I’m always grateful for the visit. May you have many more healing visits with your son, knowing he is well, and sending love to you from the other side.

    May you find comfort and peace,

  6. Renee Settels says:

    Having lost a son myself, I read truth in every sentence and I understand deeply every word you wrote, thank you very much for sharing, I feel your pain but also the beauty that it brings in your life.

  7. Beautifully and soulfully expressed. The lessons about living a “guided” life vs. a driven or “controlling” life are part of the ultimate curriculum of this experience. And many of the items you touched on regarding the death process and preparing for the inevitable are borne out by countless stories from the animal world as well. I believe the fear of death is the final frontier, and our society is gradually changing to see death in a whole new way. Thank you for the great insights!

    BTW, I would love to put this entire article on my blogsite. Even though it is written from the human perspective, the lessons are the same for someone grieving the loss of a pet.

  8. Dick Tippett says:


    Life is, indeed, the gift. So is love, the gift that you gave Kyle. Thank you for reminding me.

    So far, I’ve buried both parents, a wife, a mother-in-law and a father-in-law, two brothers (both younger) and three dear friends. I miss them all.

    i am very clear that death is a part of life. i have learned that, near the end, there is no physical pain. I’ve had a glimpse of the other side–it is quite nice. There were times when it was more comfortable spending time with them on the other side than it was to face life here without them. i’m just too busy enjoying being here, and all the beauty and physicality of life here, to leave yet.

    I agree, it can be difficult to conform to protocol–heck, it can be difficult at times to even keep working to produce income to simply live. For a time, it can be hard to focus one’s attention. And the tears come at the oddest times.

    The visits do continue for years after the transition. Some of those who left are among my spirit guides, as i hope that your son now is. i am so glad that you are both in touch.

    May time bring you peace, and healing.

    Dick Tippett

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