Talking to Dead People
Two essential lessons came early in my transition into adulthood. First, I learned that death can sneak up on you if you are not paying attention. The second is that your loved ones can communicate with you in various ways once they pass over into spirit, leaving the body behind. Both my father taught me that in 1979 and then my friend, Shaun O’Brien, who showed up in my bedroom in the middle of the night in January 1984.
That visit left an indelible mark on my soul.
Shaun was the one who helped me 5 years before, toil through the death of my father from a one car crash the summer after my freshman year of college. We met in class while working toward our degree’s in Human Development. He was tall and unassuming, with dark chestnut hair. He was older, more mature than most of our peers. We spent hours talking about life and the importance of making a difference in the world.
Shaun had the patience to work with woods and ivory turning leftover scraps into amazing pieces of art. He was laid back while I was wound tight. He didn’t care about grades; I was obsessed with my performance. Our friendship was comfortable. It fed a need that eased my way through this dramatic time in my life.
That night in January of 1984, he came to me in a dream. First he spoke of his distress with me for being lax in writing to him. He expressed his love for teaching the children of the village and his work with the Peace Corp. He talked about giving back, about finding joy in every day, and about operating our lives from love. His essence filled my room.
The morning sun brought a shard of despair. Without delay I eagerly wrote three pages detailing our interchange, begging him to confirm that he was okay. Although my message traveled 8500 miles to Manila and back to Cheyenne Wyoming, I later found out that Shaun, sadly never read my letter.
Over the next few months my uneasiness filtered in and out of my mind. My dread turned to grief in April, when the news of his death came twice in one day. One source was the newspaper from our college and the other was his mother.
His mom had been trying to reach me. My letter brought her tears, she confessed. The timing was uncanny she rambled in her grief. We talked about Shaun; we talked about God. We talked about her religious belief that had been shaken by our story. Together we cried for an undeclared bond and our love for the man we would never hold again. We knew in our hearts that we were sharing a miracle.
Reflecting back over my time with him, what Shaun taught me all along is that life is fleeting and our soul is infinite. His memory reminds me to have gratitude, love myself and my gifts, give love and give back.
In honor of his memory, a scholarship was created at Colorado State University. My goal is to endow the award so it continues in perpetuity and keeps his memory alive. Our goal is $100,000. If you want to help with a few dollars in his name, please send your check made to CSU c/o the College of Health and Human Sciences or click on the link below. God Bless You and Namaste.