My Son Sent Me Proof of Life After Death From the Otherside

These are a few writings I have done during the nine years since my son Steve died, and why I believe in life after death.

My Son Was Buried Today

June 1, 2006

My son Steve died after a car crash on Sunday--he was 44--a fantastic husband, father, community member, and son. 

He was a phenomenal guy. The tributes pouring out to him have been overwhelming. He leaves a wife, three daughters, four sisters, a brother, and me, his loving mom.

At the funeral parlor for visiting, the line was out the door, towards the parking lot for 4 solid hours. Hundreds of people who were touched by my son came to pay their respects and today the church was standing room only. 

It was a freak rainstorm that caused the accident as he was coming home from his daughter's soccer game. He was president of the County Soccer League. She got out of the hospital yesterday, has a broken ankle and a few bruise, but is so positive and loving. 

The same rainstorm a few miles away also hit my other son and his family on the same road--his car spun around twice, skidded and ended up facing on-coming cars. He took his wife, and their daughter home rather than continue on to my son's house. If he hadn't, he most likely would have come onto the scene of the accident. 

I knew my son Steve worked with various charities, but I had no idea how many--I don't know how he did that, ran a successful business, was active in the community--they even featured him Monday night on the Nashville evening news---and was a truly good family man to his wife and three daughters. 

I am proud of him. I was always proud of him. He was the 3rd of my 6 children and the first boy. 

"Love you mom" were the last words he said to me the last time I saw him a few days ago. He put his arm around me, kissed me on the cheek, and said, 'love you mom'. It is a nice memory to have. Today I kissed his casket and said "I love you Steve". 

Remember to always tell your loved ones how you feel about them, you never know if this is the last time you will see them. 

Part II—The Blue Jays

I learned about his passing along the side of the road outside of Atlanta.  I was driving home from a Grandson's Bar Mitzvah in Florida. I was near a friend's home where I was planning to spend the night and drive home Memorial Day. My first reaction was to scream, pound the steering wheel and cry. I forced myself to be calm; the highway was swarming with holiday traffic. I got to my friend's house, and there I fell apart and gave into my grief.

My friend had to leave for a short, short while and I assured her I was okay to be alone. As I sat wondering why, crying and feeling overcome with sadness, I felt an overwhelming presence. I suddenly knew my son was okay, somewhere, and I felt calmness completely, almost serenity. 

Of course I still cried, but it was for my loss and my family's, and his family, a wife and three daughters.

His daughter, who had been in the car with him, was in the hospital with a broken ankle and ripped pancreas otherwise alright. My daughter in law asked me if I would stay with her overnight. My oldest daughter and I did. I told her about the sense of peace I felt, and that I felt her dad's presence. She smiled, a bright smile and thanked me for telling her. She said that during the night she felt someone holding her hand and she knew it was her dad.

Last week 5-17-2015, I had lunch with her sister, my son's youngest daughter. After I told her about my feeling he was there, she said when she was at the hospital with her sister and her mom, during the middle of the night she felt him come and hug her. "Grandma, I knew it was him," she told me. "I just knew it was my Dad." 

One of the things I always loved about being at Steve's house was watching the birds at the feeders in his back yard, especially the Blue Jays. During the days following the accident, I sent spiritual, mental, prayerful messages to him. "Send me a Blue Jay, Steve." 

The morning of his funeral I was looking out my bedroom window, preparing myself for the hours about to come. Suddenly, two Blue Jays sat on a branch on the tree outside my window. I knew he had sent them and I whispered a thank you and sent him my love. 

There have been no Blue Jays or any birds in that tree since that morning. 

I know he is somewhere beyond this life. I know he surrounds me with love. I also know I miss him on this earthly adventure, but I still feel his presence. 

Look for signs from those loved ones who have passed on. I believe they are in contact with us in many ways. Maybe a loved one will send you a bluebird, help you find a lost item, lightly brush your shoulder or kiss you gently on the cheek. 

Our loved ones don't leave us forever. They are waiting for us somewhere in time 

Part III  - More Blue Jays

2010

After hearing me tell about the Blue Jays, one of my granddaughters said, "I'm going to ask Uncle Steve to send me some too." She was 9 at the time.

In the fall, she called me from Gainesville where she and her mom, one of my daughters, had been to a Gator game. Steve had gone to the U of FL and had been a loyal Gator fan.

"Guess what Grandma!" Her voice was excited. "Uncle Steve had two Blue Jays fly in front of us at half-time."

I know, I'm probably going out on a limb, no pun intended, on this but how often do Blue Jays fly down in front of the crowd during half-time?

The next incident happened to one of my other daughters, I have 4, who is a skeptic.

It was close to a year after Steve's death--the family was together for the 1st Annual Steve McCauley Memorial Golf Tournament to raise money for students in need at the local high school.

My daughter was sitting in his office, my other son bought the business, putting together a CD to play at the 'tee--off' cocktail party the night before the tournament.

I get another phone call. "Mom, you aren't going to believe this. Oh wait a minute; I'm talking to you. You will believe it."

"Believe what I asked?"

"I'm sitting in Steve's office, trying to decide which songs I want to put on the CD, when I looked out the window. Guess what was sitting on the mailbox!

I didn't have to guess. I knew.

"Mom!"--She was nearly shouting--"it was a Blue Jay. A Blue Jay," she repeated.

It's four years later, and I still send mental messages to Steve. It eases the loss for me to think he hears me.

This morning I was waiting to pick up his wife at the car dealer service center. I was parked under an overhang by the showroom. A Blue Jay fluttered in front of my car, perched on one of those round, cigarette ashtrays, twirled around a little bit, then facing me, he flapped his wings and flew directly over my car.

And my friends, you can call me sentimental, or a reaching for straws, want to believe, over the hill mom and grandma, but I know those birds flying by us were no coincidence. And that's why I believe in life after death. And I know Steve is there, somewhere helping Blue Jays find their way to let us know there is life after death.

Update 2015 –

I have seen Blue Jays since then. One of the most spectacular one was a few years ago when I took his daughter, the one who had been in the car with him, to have a wisdom tooth pulled. Back at her house, as she was recovering, I started out the window where Steve and I used to watch the birds in his feeders.

Send me a Blue Jay, Steve, I mentally sent him the message.

I sensed words in my mind, "How much time do you have?" I laughed, what if it was Steve sending a message back to me?

I got another bag of ice and some water for my Granddaughter, talked with her for a few moments and came back to stand by the window. Suddenly, and I swear this is true, a Blue Jay flew so close to the window I felt I could reach out and touch him if it had been open. He had literally scooped down in front of the window, and then soared back up into the sky.

"Thanks Steve," I whispered, "I needed that."

And that is how Steve showed me there is life after death.

The End