Alex Ferrari 0:00
Tell me what your life was like before you died.

Amber Kasic 0:08
I had a shared death experience with my dad when he passed. It's not like this was a part of my life. He totally led me down a path of just understanding the greater reality. Well, I will say first that looking back, I suffered more leading up to his passing, knowing that he had a terminal diagnosis. He passed of kidney cancer that had also lung cancer had spread, but I suffered more in all of that anticipatory grief. And man, do I wish I could go back and change some of the ways that I interacted with my dad, just being more present. He used to send me these funny videos via email every day, animal videos, stuff that would make me roll my eyes, you know, crass videos, this thing, all kinds of things. And I remember one day he asked me, Hey, did you see that owl video I shared with you? And I said, you know, Dad, I'm saving a lot of these because I want to open them in the future, and I wish I could do that differently now. He was seeking to connect, and I was seeking to keep him around when I couldn't. I was trying to control an inevitable part of life. Death is just like birth. We cannot control it. We can only be in support of it. So there was a lot of suffering in that way, sleepless nights. I remember being up until two in the morning reading horoscopes try to find out exactly how and when he was going to die. I don't even believe in horoscopes. Didn't at the time, none of these things, and I was trying to control every amount of suffering. But I experienced his passing as simultaneously the most painful and beautiful, truly moment of my life, and I now just see it, and I felt it even in the moment, as a sacred sacred is the best word for truly a sacred transition, when he actually passed well about 12 hours before he took his last breath, he had been unconscious for days, and I was laying alongside him in the hospice bed that was in our parents living room. And, you know, I had my eyes closed. I was holding his hand, and I was just thinking about the fact that I'm never gonna hear his voice again. We had already had our last conversation in the middle of the night, you know, a few days prior, which we had agreed upon a sign that he might be able to give me when he goes. And so I was thinking about never hear his voice again. I was thinking about how he'll not see my grandson start kindergarten, or see my grandson, you know, ride, really, ride his bike for the first time without training wheels, all these sorts of things. And I was also thinking about stuff with him, and I just kind of left unsaid and done, because there was some forgiveness that was needed and and I had my own process of that through his passing, but it was always very like hidden, and I think he knew what I was doing, but we couldn't just explicitly have the conversation. So I was thinking about all these things, and it was very painful place to be, and almost not by choice. Because of that pain, I just stopped thinking, and instead I simply focused on all of the unconditional love that I was feeling for my dad, and in that moment, none of that stuff really mattered anymore, the junk, you know, of life of him, it just didn't matter anymore. He was just my perfectly imperfect dad, and I loved him dearly. And so in that place of love, and I might say now, just kind of surrender and letting go to that, I started experiencing in my mind these hues of purple that were kind of swirling in my mind. Haven't experienced that before, but okay, whatever. And then I felt this warmth that started at the crown of my head and just kind of slowly went down to my toes. And I remember thinking, Oh, the sun must be coming in the window and just kind of playing tricks on me. But then I felt with full clarity what I can only describe as a force. It was like wind, but not because it wasn't on my skin, and it was like this whoosh, and it came in from the center of my back into the center of my chest. And I just felt this force, this presence, and this force was doing slow circles around the center of my chest, my heart center. And so it was just sort of doing this slow emotion, almost like, are you aware? Are you aware? And as I was aware, it traveled to my shoulder, and it paused, and this feeling was so new, unlike anything I have ever felt in my life, that I couldn't judge it. There was there was nothing to judge it against. I could only be with the moment, and that force traveled down my arm, like on the inside of my body, into my hand and then into my dad's hand. And I just knew. I knew it like the sky is blue. We are eternally bonded, and all is well, everything's fine. Fine. Everything is fine, and it didn't even matter what that meant. You know, just if someone were to say that to me, Well, you and your dad are eternally bonded, in my head, I'd start analyzing, what does that mean? He's dying. What do you mean? We're eternally bonded, and we're going to talk to him again. I didn't care, because it was just true. It didn't even matter what it meant. Yeah, we are eternally bonded. And I gave him a big hug, and I said in his ear, because he couldn't hear me, but I knew somehow he could hear me, dad. I don't know what that was, but I know you felt it too, and you take all that love and light in your core with you. Words I didn't use. Where was that even coming from? I was not a love and light person, but it was me saying, I see you. I see you as the essence, as the soul, as the beautiful man and the stuff. And we all have our stuff. It's junk, right? It's just the junk. Leave the old news behind. I'm okay if you go now. It was a beautiful moment, and I actually had to leave the house, because I had been with him all week, and my mom as well. And I had to leave the house to go be with my family for a few hours. And when I left the house, I was joyous. I was blasting music in the car. I was singing on the way home, the wind, you know, windows down, the wind blowing. And I just remember thinking, What is wrong with me? I had this, literally, this just elation that was stuck with me, and so much so that I didn't want to go back to the house later at night. I had wanted that to be my last moment with my dad, because it was so beautiful. But I did go back, and he actually took his last breath at about, I love this on November 1 in the during daylight savings time change in Michigan. So we didn't really know exactly what time to write on the birth certificate at first, because he passed when we are absent of time on a full Hunter's Moon, on 111, of 2020, and none of that. Now I know is an accident. I also know now with months, months later, reflection and evidential mediumship experiences, that experience I had with him, that shared death experience that was him. We think that we're here until we're we stop breathing. We are not. There is a lot more happening with our soul, transition and in and out of our physical consciousness and our higher consciousness and the consciousness of the beyond. There is more happening during a dying process than meets the eye. That was him telling me we are eternally bonded. That was him giving me that experience to let me know that all is well. Well, just hours after he passed away, it's not that I thought he was with me at all. I just knew I had this lovely experience. I called it an otherworldly experience. I had not heard of shared death experiences. I didn't know what it was. I just knew it was real. But hours after he died, I pulled into a park just to decompress. I just wanted to walk. You know, it's very emotional being with someone at their passing. And I pulled into the barking space, and I finally let some tears go, and they weren't even so much grief as just rawness and rawness of all the emotions. And as I was letting those tears go, I heard my dad's voice, his actual voice in my mind. I didn't think it was him. I thought I was making it up, but I heard him, and he said, ambi, you've cried enough tears over me in your life. Get out of the car, and I stopped, and I, you know, kind of crying. And I thought to myself, gee, that's true. I have cried enough tears over my dad in my life, but also my brain just made that up. But I got out of the car and I started walking. And as I was walking, I just sort of said to myself, gee, Dad, I hope you're all right. And without a moment hesitation, instantly he was right there in my mind, his actual voice, and that voice said, I'm just fine, Amy. I'm gonna stick around here a while and help some people, and I'm happy about it. And I did stop walking, not because I believed that that was my dad, but I had this other knowing which was eyes Amber, if I were inventing his voice, I would not have said that. Amber would have said, Heaven, so beautiful. I'm with my dog again, and my granddad greeted me because I told you, that's who I hope to see one day. We know in the beyond, like that's what I would have come up with. Never would I have come up with, I'm gonna stick around here a while and help some people. That's not unusual. And my next thought was, you know, outside of, okay, well, that's interesting, because I wouldn't have said that if I were making this up. But my next thought was, even if that were true, who would he be helping? Like I didn't even have the thought he really was about to guide me down a journey of awakening and understanding our greater reality, and so I wouldn't hear his voice again in my mind for about a month or so after that, it just started, like many people, or, you know, all of a sudden, baby feathers were constantly everywhere on the floor in my house. And I didn't really believe in this kind of stuff. I wanted to. Because it sounds faithful and nice, but you know, what do you mean? I like science. What do you mean someone in spirit is trying to put objects places that wasn't a part of my frame of reference or worldview, but I couldn't deny that these very odd synchronicities kept occurring. And then, you know, as I said, two days before my dad died, we, in the middle of the night, in a moment of lucidity, agreed upon a sign together. I had asked him for one in an email, and he never wrote me back, probably because he didn't want to disappoint me, because he didn't know what was next either. And in that 2am conversation, I said, Hey, Dad, you never wrote me back. And he kind of made a joke, and goes, well, I suppose I should get right on that. Then, like, in this state, he's not able to respond, you know, but we decided I made some suggestions. I first suggested a leaf in my face from a really strong wind, and he kind of grunted, and I took that as disapproval. And so then I suggested a random animal, something really random that just kind of comes up to me out of nowhere. And he had grunted again, which I just took his disapproval. And then I said, How about a deer in my direct walking path? And he had opened his eyes wide in that moment, and he said, You'll know in the eyes. And that was so that I took that as our agreed upon sign. Well, the night after he passed away, I went for a walk with my husband to tell him about just the experiences of the whole week. I hadn't really seen my family for a week. And as we got to the park, you know, it was seven o'clock pm on November 2, here comes this insane wind, and it's just blowing leaves in my face. Now it's November 2 in the Midwest. It gets windy. I didn't really think anything of it, but I started telling him the story of this conversation that I had with my dad, and as I'm telling the story, literally, a black lab. And labs were my dad's favorite dog. He always had a lab his whole life, a black lab with no owner, no collar, no leash, comes running up to us, barking at us. It's got no one around. It even kind of trails off and turns around and barks as at us. And even my husband, who loves statistics at this time with ace, was atheist, doesn't believe in any of this stuff. Was like, I think that dog wants us to follow Him, and that dog literally went running constantly, stopping barking at us as we're following it. It goes into the cemetery across the street. And so my husband, I, in our moment of common sense, said to each other, you know, we should probably just go get in the car. And there's a neighborhood in the area, we should help this dog find its home. So we get in the car, we go over the cemetery. We see the dog again. It stops. It's barking at us, and literally from probably 50 yards away, my husband opens the van door, and this dog just comes running across the cemetery field right into our van. We didn't even get out. And so we drive around the neighborhood. We find this dog's home, drop the dog off, and as we are rounding the corner, coming down the hill, what is right in front of the van in the middle of the road, a young buck. It's not uncommon to see deer where I live, but it is very uncommon to have a buck stand in the middle of the road and not move. Just headlights blaring, and this buck walked slowly, very slowly, to the side of the road. It was probably about seven feet from my car window, and it just stood there and stared at me. And by this point, I am bawling. I have the window down. I'm telling the deer how beautiful it is. I know that this is a sign from my dad. I'm crying. I'm telling it, thank you. It was just the most beautiful moment, and I knew that it was my dad letting me know that everything was well, and even though I had already felt that when we had that moment together, this is like the real world confirmation to me of that. But it kind of those types of things began my journey of just starting to open my eyes, I would say. And then as the weeks went by, I started to feel his presence. I would really feel my dad go in it with an open heart, though, and an open mind.