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Author Topic: Life of a lovely young man who died  (Read 4588 times)

Tony Crisp

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Life of a lovely young man who died
« on: April 01, 2013, 02:36:25 PM »
Your communication with your friend who passed from this world doesn't really surprise me, and serves to confirm my own thoughts about the 'afterlife'.

A couple of years ago, or maybe three (I lose all track of time these days, for some reason), I began teaching at an independent school. The first day I started there, I had a lad come in the morning for his first lesson with me, and immediately there seemed to be a kind of connection --- something I just cannot describe. I remember it so clearly, and events that happened after, which I'll describe in a minute. This lad, Adam, just lit up the room with his presence. At that stage he was 12 years old.

I started a day before my birthday, in March and worked with Matti until December. In early December, he had a sudden massive heart attack, and died. This was on a Thursday. On the Monday previously he came along for his lesson -- smiling as he always did, but something didn't 'feel' right to me. He looked fine, there was no pallor to his skin or anything, but something was wrong. Initially I put it down to my own nerves -- because during that week, starting on the Wednesday, I was involved in a musical of Les Miserables at the school, and the score was very tricky for the guitar, so I was practising like mad. On the Wednesday morning I was in my room during a break, practising -- and suddenly I felt an incredible shock -- like a wave of sadness. I find it still difficult to relate, but I just broke down in tears.

During that time an image of Adam was in my mind, and I just had no idea why. A flute teacher opposite me saw me break down and came in to ask if I was all right. I couldn't explain to her what had caused this, and just said I had family difficulties -- a lie... but what else could I do? She left me in peace and I composed myself and was ok for the rest of the day. The following day I was teaching at another school and around 1pm, and again his image came into my mind and I felt the wave of sadness again, but this time I was able to control my emotions. I felt uncomfortable for the rest of the afternoon, and went back to the independent school in the evening to give the performance that night of the musical. When I arrived, I was told that Adam had collapsed that lunchtime (around 1 ish) and had been airlifted to hospital. The woman who told this wouldn't give me the truth when I asked if he was all right --- she just said that it was a suspected heart attack and that it was thought he might not make it. In fact, he had died that afternoon before the helicopter got to the school -- and somehow I knew this. I told Greta that I felt he had died (a silly thing to say, perhaps at the time). She looked at me strangely, but would not confirm it. Anyway, I played at the concert and as soon as it was over, she came up to me and told me the truth. The following night when I played at the third performance, I was convinced I could sense Adam right beside me and I played on a ballad, breaking away from the score and just improvised a solo. I don't know what on earth possessed me to do that, but it felt right: a tribute to the boy.  

Anyway, I now teach the lad's father. There have been a strange set of 'coincidences' when I started working with him. He told me that in the days following Adam's death, one by one all the lights in the bungalow fused --- despite replacing the bulbs. This happened for nearly three days, and a a local electrician could find no reason for it, save that it must have been a faulty batch of bulbs. When I began teaching Bill, he wanted me to teach in Adam's room (I couldn't refuse of course, but it felt very strange, that first time). Adam had  a bunk bed and on the top of it was a fishing hat, hanging on a wooden pole at the end of the bed. I was positioned adjacent to this with a music stand in front of me. Some minutes into the lesson with both us watching, the hat somehow 'flew' off the pole and landed on the music stand. Bill just picked it up and replaced it, without saying a word to me. I was going to remark on it, but there was a look in Bill's eyes that cautioned me not to. We have discussed it since though, and he has related other events that have happened.  

There is one remarkable thing to this, Tony. Last August, Bill was on a trip to China. He runs a publishing research company and travels across the globe. Unfortunately he suffers from Crohn's disease. He had been in remission for some time, so the trip wasn't supposed to be a problem. He was only out there a day, however when it flared up and he had to return home and go to hospital. For several weeks after, he was unable to work and couldn't even pick up his guitar to practise, so I was unable to see him until early September. When he resumed his lessons, he was remarkably energetic and seemed to glow. He told me that when he was in hospital he had a dream. In it Adam was standing next to him and reached out to hug him, telling him very clearly that he would 'be well'. When Bill woke, there was no pain and no symptoms of the disease. He has had a slight relapse last week, but very minor, and he feels that his diet is able to help contain the symptoms.  

I don't know what you would make of all this, but Bill is one of the most gentle, honest souls I have ever met (apart from his son).  

Anyway, your experiences just made me think about all that had happened over the last three years. Life is indeed truly remarkable!  

Take care,  Steve Nicholl

 
« Last Edit: July 19, 2013, 09:36:55 AM by Tony Crisp »