Do You Believe In The Here-After?

Do You Believe In The Here-After?

According to the dictionary, 'Here-After' means; "a life or existence after death; the future beyond mortal existence."  Do you believe...you know…Spirits, after-life, things that happen after one dies.  Unexplainable things.  Things you know are weird…but are afraid to speak about.  Dreams, really vivid surreal dreams…the kind of dreams when you wake you don’t truly know if you were dreaming or if it actually happened.   Or maybe you are afraid to talk to anyone about because people may think you are crazy.  Is it the person you lost that came to visit you, it is God???  Who knows for sure, but we all know stories.  Some first hand, or stories that have been put into our heads by other who have experienced it, or who know someone who had experienced something….something unexplainable.  

I am not talking about the boogie man.  I am not talking about monsters, witches, or even Satan.  Well…I surely hope I am not talking about Satan.  God??? Who knows…I am really struggling with my faith.  Does the here-after have anything to do with faith...you decide.  I would love your comments on this after you read.  My own opinion is still out in left-field.  A few weeks ago one of these things happened to me…again.  But first, let me start here:

I lost my brother Manuel on June 7, 1975.  Suicide…he committed suicide.  My birthday falls in February, his birthday falls one year later in February.  We were very close, my brother and I were very close.  He confided in me.  He told me things, things that led to his death.  I was…at the time…so mixed up in my own world of drinking and drugs that I couldn’t help him.  The people involved in his decision to end his own life…dealt and are still dealing with their own demons to this day.  They were forgiven by me many years ago.  Holding a grudge, hating any one person…will eventually beat you down.  You will never be able to move forward if you do not forgive.  You may not ever forget, but you can forgive.  My brother Manuel, beat me to the punch! He was 19 years old.  This is the reason I am still alive today…this is the reason I never found that big truck…I already know from experience…survivors of a suicidal death never quite get closure for the death.  I cannot do this to my family.  It does not take away the wanting to die…it does not take away the suicidal thoughts…but it makes me think of people who would be left behind.  The questions they have would never stop…I know.     

Why didn’t he reach out…He most likely did reach out, we weren’t listening.  I was not listening.

I knew Manuel was in pain….I think deep down I probably even knew he was contemplating suicide but I was too ignorant to understand.  Too young, too messed up in my own head.

He should have said something…I was here all he had to do was talk to me.  He talked, we, I didn’t listen.

I didn’t know he needed help…we all knew…me, his wife, his friends…we choose not to admit the truth or we truly did not think he would go through with it. 

It is such’such’s fault…it is always easier to blame someone else than to blame your own neglect.  If you have someone to blame that eliminates the need for you to search your own soul, it eliminates the need for you to focus on what your own responsibilities would have or should have been.  It negates your involvement in the suicide.

Why didn’t he talk to me…he did.

Why did he do it…he had no choice. In his head he had no choice.

Why???...Suicide leaves those behind with so many unanswered questions.

 A few months after Manuel died I had one of those surreal dreams…this was umpteen years ago and still I remember as though I had just dream it last night.  I dreamt Manuel was walking toward me.  As I watched him walk I could clearly see his body had lost mass.  What I saw was a skeleton of a man walking toward me.  I remember rationalizing he had been gone for a few months which would explain the weight loss.  I could see he was still wearing his dress blues, with the gold buttons running down the edge of red piping along the front of his jacket.  He still had on his shined black shoes, and his hair…it was still parted down the middle of his head.  The mortician combed his hair with a part right down the middle of his head…to hide his wound.    

I ran to Manuel and embraced him.  I told Manuel I loved him and missed him.

Manuel said, “Sis I can only stay a minute.  I just came to ask you to take care of my little girl.  Please be there for her when she needs you, while she is growing up.  She will need someone to help her.”

“I will be here for her,” I promised Manuel, “I will always be here when she needs me.” 

“I love you Olgie, I knew I could count on you.” He said.

Then I immediately woke up…and when I woke I remembered how very vivid this dream was.  I was 20 years old, I was not sure if I dreamt this or if this actually happened.  It truly felt like it wasn’t a dream…it felt like it was real.  I could still smell Manuel sent when I lay there in my bed.  I remember feeling a sense of calmness about me.  

Years later on September 26, 2005, I lost my best friend of 28 years.  She fell ill to anaerobic heart failure.  Anaerobic, means no oxygen.  Heart failure due to no oxygen…no oxygen to the brain…the brain is left unable to function without oxygen so it shuts down…if the brain shuts down, the heart dies.  She had severe asthma…her asthma left her brain-dead.  She laid in the hospital’s ICU unit for several weeks.  She was my friend, she was closer to me than my own sister.  I was at the hospital every day, tending to my friend, massaging her feet, putting lotion on her, pulling the bits of glue/wax out of her hair from all the tests which were done to look for brain activity.  And I prayed for her…first asking God to save her, and once I realized there was no hope for her to live a normal life I prayed for God to take her.  I tried incessantly to talk her family into letting her go.  I fought for my friend…knowing she would not want to be left on life-support.  I knew she would not want a parade of people seeing her as she laid there in her hospital bed.  She was buried a month after her initial asthma attack.  I was completely broken.  I had lost my only true friend…I had lost the woman I told my deepest secrets to, I still hold her secrets in my heart.  Several months after she departed she came to me in a dream. 

My dream was that she was running toward me and Steve.  Steve was looking at her as she got closer Steve said, “Oh my God, honey I think that is Robin!”
 

I looked up to see her running to me…she still wore her hospital gown, she was wearing nothing on her feet, her hospital band was still on her wrist, and her hair, which I had worked so hard at trying to keep clean was blowing slightly behind her.  I ran as fast as I could toward her and we hugged one another as tightly as we could.  

“Olgie, I can only stay a moment.” She said.

I said, “Where have you been, I have been missing you so very much.”

“Olgie, they will only let me stay a moment, I left so fast I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye to you.  I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to you.  I love you Olgie, You are my best friend in the whole world.  Thank you for all you did for me in the hospital.  I knew I could count on you to help me.  Thank you so very much.” 

“I love you Robin!” I cried.

And just like that I woke up from this extremely vivid dream.  This dream was so very real.  I could smell something but could not make out what it was…after a few minutes I realize it was a hospital smell.  When I awoke from this dream, my room smelled like a hospital.  I woke Steve to tell him about my dream.  He did not smell anything.  He said I was just dreaming…but was I?  Really?  Was I dreaming?  It felt so very real.  I had a new sense of peace and calmness about Robin's death.  I could still feel Robin’s presence, was it a dream?    

How many times did she tell me those very words, “You’re my best friend in the whole world?  How did she know I helped her in the hospital?  A couple years prior to her illness, she came to me to tell me she had breast cancer.   At the end of that conversation she made me promise to step in for her husband if needed.  She was afraid he would not be able to make ‘end of life’ decisions for her.  She was right, about her husband...although she beat the cancer…she still fell ill.  I remembered my promise to her.  As far as I was concerned cancer or asthma…she was still brain-dead, she still needed my help.  I talked to Jeff about this dream, he said, ‘I don’t know if I believe in life after death…maybe your dream has some merit to it.  Or perhaps you just miss Robin so much that you just had a nice dream about her.”

A couple months after Robin died, I volunteered at the State Hospital.  I wanted to be sure disconnecting her was the right decision.  For three months, I worked in the Unit that cares for adults in vegetative or in an infantile mental state.  This ward of the hospital, consisted of patients who were either born extremely mentally handicapped, were in an accident that left them in an infantile state, or in a vegetative state.  After doing volunteer work in this unit, caring for the patients, feeding them, bathing them, changing dirty diapers...I knew the decision to disconnect was the right decision for Robin.  I don’t know the answers…is there life after death?  Up to this point I wasn’t sure…some days I still am not sure.  I do miss my friend dearly…I think I always will.  How I wish she could have been here to help me through Steve’s death, how I wish she was here to help me now.   Did Robin come see me that night or was it nothing more than a dream?   

On February 14, 2007 we received news of Steve’s fate.
 

“Stomach cancer, Steve you have Stomach cancer.” The doctor said.  “You have four months on the outside, if you are lucky perhaps six months.”  This was how we found out my husband was terminal.  We were two weeks out from that news when I had a dream…

I dreamt I was having a nightmare.  I am not sure if I was floating above…but I could see this dream like I was watching a movie.  Steve, in my dream had already passed away, he was doing all that he could to wake me from a deep sleep.  In my dream he was a ghost, I could not see him nor did I know he was in my room.   “Honey wake up.  Honey wake up,” he kept saying.  “Honey, wake up there is a spider in your bed. Wake up.”

I finally woke up and although it was dark in my room I could see a spider in my bed. “Eeeekkkkk!” I screamed.  (I was and still am afraid of spiders.  Over the many years of our marriage Steve saved me many-a-time from these scary creatures.)  I was screaming and jumping up and down trying to get away from this bug.  In my dream Steve was in the background laughing at me, and he kept encouraging me to try to kill the spider.  

“Kill it, you can do it,” he would say, all the while he was laughing and I was jumping up and down screaming.  In my dream Steve had a paper or something in his hand and was trying to put it into my hand.  At last he succeeded because next thing I knew I had a rolled up newspaper or magazine in my hand.  (In my dream I didn’t even know how it got there.  Remember I could not see Steve because he was a ghost.)  

“Hit it baby, hit it with the paper.  You can do it!” He kept encouraging me. 

Finally I gave the spider one really hard hit with the paper…and killed it!  
Steve then said, “Honey, if you ever need me call me.  I promise you I will come back to help you.”

And just like that I woke up.  My dream was so very real…I immediately felt a sense of calmness like never before.  I could feel Steve lying next to me, and I could feel his body moving to the rhythm of his breathing.I was compelled to get out of bed.  I got up and turned on the light…and there on my bed was a dead spider!   I got the spider out of my bed and laid back down thinking about how very real my dream was, and the spider.  How did it get in my bed?  I felt such a sense of peace come over me.  I was no longer afraid of losing Steve.  My dream was so real, I knew Steve would help me even after he was gone.  I do not know how I knew this…I just knew.  I described my dream to my friends and Steve’s children.  I felt very good about this dream.

Steve died on November 15, 2007.  A few nights before he died Steve asked me to call all his children to let them know he would not make it through the end of the week.  I called and let them know if they would like to see him they would need to come right away.  That same night Steve, knowing he was on his last days, wanted to talk to me about things he had on his mind.  He wanted to talk about everything, his funeral, his wishes, his hopes, his wants for his last minutes of life, and me, he wanted to talk about me.  My future without him…my upcoming graduation…his wants for my happiness.  We talked, we hugged, we cried for several hours. 

I felt compelled to tell Steve of my spider dream.  He love hearing about my dream.  I told him how peaceful my dream made me feel, how very real it felt.  Steve said, ‘Honey I don’t know what happens after we die, none of us knows.  All I know is if there is any way possible I can help you I will.  Please call my name and if I can, I will come to help you.”

Olgie and Steve

Years before I had gone back to school as a non-traditional student…Steve wanted nothing more than to live long enough to see me graduate.  He had told me this was his only regret, and I knew how very upset he was that he would not be here to witness my graduation.  The next night I came home with my cap and gown.  I surprised Steve…and wanted him to see me wearing this.  I knew he was trying so very hard to live long enough to see me get my Bachelor’s degree…he was exhilarated.  It was the most joyful I had seen him ever.  Tina took pictures of us together. 

Jeff and Ben (Steve’s second eldest son) came up from Colorado the next morning.  I did not tell Steve they were coming.  Again…he was staggered and overjoyed to see his boys.  The two made it in time to spend an entire day and night with their father.  That day, November 14^th we all Jeff, Ben, and all of the rest of us who live here in Idaho, spent a beautiful day with Steve.  We all joked, laughed, played cards, and each of us were able to spend good quality time with him. 

Jeff and Steve Nov 14, 2007

Steve enjoyed a very gentle massage given him by Jeff and Ben.  It made my heart sink when I witnessed the love Tina, and the boys had for their father.  Tina spent the last two nights in our room with us.  The morning of November 15^th I awoke to find Steve very ill.   That morning…when Steve awoke…we all knew…it would be Steve’s last day with us.  Once Steve fell asleep I could not help but go through all the past months in my head.  Steve never once complained about his illness…he never complained about his pain…he took his last breath while squeezing my hand.           

Steve was gone about four months when I had another one of these dreams...

Again, in my sleep, I was having a nightmare.  In my dream there was a man in my bed and I was trying to push him away.  I woke up to hear Steve say, “Honey wake up. Honey wake up.”

I screamed, “Babe help, there was a man in my bed!”

“No,” he said, “I am the man in your bed.  Honey I can only stay for a minute.  I just came to help you.  Please trust me.   Listen to me…look directly at me and put your trust in me.  I am only here to help you.”

I nodded, and he proceeded to talk.

“Honey there is a spider on your forehead, I am here to help you kill it.”

He told me how he was going to hold onto my arm and move it so my hand runs/drags across my forehead.  He said by doing this it would kill the spider.  He took my arm and moved it so my hand dragged across my forehead.  In my sleep I could feel something rolling beneath the back of my hand as he moved my arm from right to left.

When he let go of my arm he said, “Honey if you ever need me call me, I promise I will always be here to help you.”

As soon as he finished talking I woke up.  This time Steve was not sleeping peacefully beside me.  This time he no longer laid in my bed.  My dream again felt as though it actually happened.  I felt peace come over me like never before.  I got up to turn on the light….again…there was a dead spider on my bed!  I do not know what happened…was it a dream?  Sure it was.  Did it feel real…absolutely!  All I knew for sure was my spider dream made a full circle, from prior to Steve’s death to after his death.  

The next night when Jeff and I talked, I told him in detail about my dream.  He did not say too much on the phone, but when we hung up he sent me this email…         

  

_______________________________________________________________________________

On another occasion...

There came a time when I needed to remove Steve’s clothing from my bedroom.  I was taking his clothes out of his closet one evening.  As I was folding his clothes, I could smell his scent on them.  I thought about what Steve would think if he could see me removing his clothes from our room. 

I said out loud, ‘Honey what would you think if you could see me getting rid of your clothes?”

All of a sudden on the opposite side of my bedroom there was a very loud noise.  It sounded like someone dropped a stack of books or something.    I immediately felt the hair on the back of my neck raise.  It started me and scared me at the same time.  I walked over to my side of the bedroom to my dresser, where the noise had come to see what had dropped and broke.  Surely whatever dropped had to have broken, because the noise was very loud.  I could find nothing broken…the only thing I noticed that was ‘out of place’ was a lone picture of Steve.  Not a framed picture, just a small picture which I keep stuck between the glass of the mirror and the wood of the dresser.   This picture had been stuck there for umpteen years and never before fell off because it fits very snug between the glass and the wood.  Was it Steve…answering me? 

“Thank you baby.” I said aloud, and added.  “I love you and I miss you so very much.” 

And then there was this...

A few years after Steve passed away I was invited to a wedding in McCall, ID.  I spent the entire weekend there with friends.  McCall is a small town about 100 miles north of Boise.  This is where Steve and I raised our family.  On my way home from this trip my thoughts were of Steve.  All the way down the narrow winding road which follows the Payette River, my thoughts were of Steve.  How many times did we drive down this road together?  How many trips did we drive up and down on this highway?  All the way home my thoughts were of Steve, our children, our dreams, our life together. 

Upon returning home and while I was unpacking the car I said to myself, “What would you think baby, if you knew I was gallivanting all over McCall?”

All of a sudden I noticed a piece of paper on the floorboard of my car.  I know this paper was not there while I was driving.  I went around the car to see what this was.  It was a receipt…a receipt dated September 8, 2006.  September 8^th is Steve’s birthday!  The receipt was for a hamburger joint…Steve wanted an ice cream cone for his birthday and I drove him to this burger place because this was his favorite place for ice cream.  Keep in mind I clean my vehicle every month or two, other than a used tissue here or there, there is no garbage under my seats or anywhere else in my vehicle. 

Where did the receipt come from?  I don't know.  Was it in my car, on the floor, for over three years...I do not think so.  NO...it wasn't. 

I can write a book about how many times I called out to Steve and he/his spirit helped me through whatever answers I needed from him.  Every single time I had a need to get an answer from him, he in some way answered me.  Coincidence?? Perhaps.  Outside forces?? Perhaps.  All I know for sure is every time something has happened...something I could not explain...I talked about it to anyone that would listen.   I am a firm believer in fate…but am I a believer in outside forces?  I do not have an answer for that.  All I know for sure is after Steve passed away, I had many, many signs from him. 

My son passed away on March 11, 2013…

The day Jeff died I was out in the yard sitting with Dwaine and Tina, all of a sudden I could feel someone tapping/caressing my right knee.  I said out loud, “Someone is touching my knee.  Someone is tapping on my knee.”

Dwaine said, “Jeff?”

Tina said, “Or do you think it is Dad?  Maybe Dad is letting you know Jeff is alright.”

I started to cry, “Someone is touching my knee.” And I demonstrated to them how they were touching my knee. Was it Jeff?  Was it Steve?  I don’t know…all I know for sure is that for that entire first week after Jeff passed away someone (I like to think it was Jeff) was caressing my knee.   I remember talking about it in Colorado to Jeff’s family and friends.  I had completely forgotten about this entire ‘knee thing’ until many months later.  

While I was in Colorado that first week after Jeff left this world to the next world.  Cassie, Jeff's daughter told me her story.   She said, "I was lying on the trampoline and looked up at the clouds.  I asked Daddy, "Daddy if you are up there could you please make me a heart."  She said the clouds formed a heart, and that heart had a squiggly smiley face on it.  "That is how I knew it was Daddy," she said. "Because Daddy always made me smiley faces, and every time Daddy made me a smiley face, the lines were always all crooked and squiggly."  Was this the dream of a child?  It could have been..except that she was not asleep.  She clearly asked something specific from her father...and she received an answer.  From Jeff??  From God??

One of the reason I have been so distraught is because when Steve died, he was still here with me.  Every time I turned around Steve was here in some way for me, with me.  And Jeff…I did not know where Jeff was.  Why was Jeff not here? Where is Jeff?   All I know for sure…was that Steve was always here, and Jeff was nowhere….OR WAS HE?

A few weeks back I was having a really bad day.  It seems many of my days are really bad days.  But this particular day was different.  All day I was googling…

‘How to write a book.’

‘How to write a book using the letters I have written to Jeff’

‘Grief and letters to the deceased’

‘Where to start writing a book’ etc,etc,etc.

I was sitting in front of my computer all day crying, missing my Jeff, and replaying Johnny Cash’s ‘Hurt.’  When Steve died my go to song was ‘Over the Rainbow’ by IZ, the Hawaiian guy.  My go to song for Jeff is Johnny Cash’s ‘Hurt.”  This is the most grief-stricken song I have ever heard, and this is how I accurately feel.  On my way home that day I felt compelled to drink a beer.  There is a small bar close to my house and at the last second I pulled into its parking lot.  This action is like nothing I do.  I am not one to go to a restaurant, let alone a bar by myself.  Never. 

I remember a few years after Steve died I was just having an exceptionally hard day, it was a Sunday.  I called Jeff, “I can’t stay in this house one more minute.”

“Mom get out of that house,” and he added, “Go for a drive, go for a beer somewhere.  It’s OK to go have a beer.  Go play pool or something. Mom it’s OK.”  

For months he had been trying to get me to go play pool.  He knew Steve and I enjoyed going to out-of-the-way bars to play pool and to have an occasional beer.  Jeff and I also loved playing pool together, whenever we were together.

“Will you come with me? To play pool?” I asked.

‘Mom how are we going to play pool?  OK, I’ll go with you, call me as soon as you get there.  I want you to leave right now.  Get out of that house.” He said.

“OK, I’m leaving this very minute,” I replied.

I drove to the bar…about 20 minutes later my phone rang…”Mom get the hell out of that car!  They are not going to serve you a beer in your car!” Jeff said.

I started laughing, “Oh really?  Will you come in with me?”

“OK.  You better not be cheating” he laughed.

I walked into that bar, with Jeff on the other end of my phone.  I walked up to the bartender and order two beers, one for me, one for Jeff.  We played two games of pool that day.  That day was the first time ever in my entire life that I was in a bar, or restaurant, alone.  Alone without Steve, without the kids, or without friends, but I really wasn’t alone that day…Jeff was with me.  We played pool and had a few beers that day and at least a half dozen or more Sunday afternoons together.

So there I was sitting in my car a few weeks ago...in my car, trying to get up enough nerve to force myself to actually go into this bar…alone.  My phone rang, as I reach to answer it stopped ringing.  Once, it rang only once.  I checked to see who called and the phone showed nothing.  There was no call that showed up on the caller ID.  I immediately remembered Jeff phoning me the last time I was sitting in my car in front of this same bar.  It was as though I heard him say, “Mom get the hell out of that car, they are not going to serve you a beer in that car!”

I smiled as I got out of the car and went straight into the bar and took a seat at the far end of the bar.  I ordered a beer and sat there and noticed a beer on the bar sitting by itself.  There were about a half dozen people, men, in the bar. A man came and took a seat in front of a beer that was sitting alone when I sat there.  

After a minute or two he started making small talk, “So do you come here often?”

“No, I don’t, I never come in alone.”

“I don’t usually come in either, I was compelled to come in and have a beer.  I’m self-employed and work is slow right now.” He said.

Hearing he was self-employed and work is slow I took it for granted he was in the construction field.  “What do you do for work?” I asked.

His answer startled me.  “I am a Ghost writer.”

I immediately thought to myself, “What the hell?  I have been all day long googling how to write a book and you are a ghost writer?”

“What do you write?” I asked.

“Primarily for Businesses, but I’ve written a few books of my own, and I’ve written for clients.  You know, their personal stories or whatever they need written.  Or I have helped them write their book.  What is your name?” he asked.

I’m sitting there still thinking to myself, “What the hell???”  I answer, “Olgie, my name is Olgie.”

He sticks out his hand, “Hi Olgie, my name is Jeff.”

Oh my God!  Really?  Almost immediately someone says, “Hey Jeff do you want another beer?”  They are talking to someone on the other side of the bar…who just happened to be named Jeff.  And the bartender, also happened to be named Jeff.  As though on cue…Johnny Cash’s ‘Hurt’ started playing on the jukebox.  I started to cry.  I told Jeff my story, and the flukes that were happening right then.  The flukes...me googling how to write a book, and here he is out of the blue...a ghost writer, his name, and the other men named Jeff in the bar.  I told him about my son, and that fact that they shared the same name.  We talked…

He asked me, “Olgie, do you believe in outside forces? I believe there are no coincidences in life.  Everything happens for a reason.  Do you think Jeff is bringing us together?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I believe in fate.  I don’t know,” I replied.

“Please meet me here next week, I have a book I want you to read.  It is a book I wrote.” He said.

Although I promised I would meet him the next week, I left the bar that day with his card in hand not understanding what just happened.  Was it my Jeff who threw us together?  Was it fate…was it outside forces?  I don’t know. All I know is I have been waiting, desperately wanting, searching, for signs of my son.  Is my Jeff here with me after all?  Has he been here all along?  Is this what I had been waiting for?  After Steve died, I always knew he was here for me.  He was everywhere, every single time I needed Steve, he was here.  All this time…I have been waiting for Jeff to come see me, longing for Jeff to come to me, so I could be sure he was okay, wherever he was.  Could this be the sign I had been waiting for…the phone ringing, this Ghostwriter named Jeff, the song? 

After talking to my companion and to my friends I decided to meet with this man one more time.  The book he gave me, ‘Who Will Be My Judas?’ written by Jeff Scott…is about a woman who lost her husband and children.  She is a few years out from losing her family and is stuck in her sorrow for them.  By chance she meets a man who helps her find her path….WHAT THE HELL?  This is a book he wrote in 2008.  I have read this book, and am currently reading it again.  

http://booksbyjeffscott.blogspot.com/

And then just this week:
Sunday Feb 2nd was my birthday. It started out to be a bad day.  The night before my step-daughter had a few friends over her house to celebrate my birthday.  So the morning of my birthday I was looking at my gifts.  I had received a beautiful metal basket.  I decided to put my new books into this basket.  On top of all the books was a box.  This box looked like a book but if you open the cover it is actually a box where you can hide treasures or whatever.  I looked into the box and found a bunch of small picture frames.  Under the frames were pictures which I had already printed some time back.  (I really do not even remember printing them so it had to have been a long time ago.)  I pulled out the pictures one at a time and beneath all the picture was a hand written note from Jeff. I do not know when this note was written, nor how long it was in this box.  All I   

Note from Jeff

know for sure is I needed something concrete from Jeff on my birthday and 'out of the blue' I find this note.

Coincidence?? Perhaps.  Outside forces??  We all know or have seen movies about these things...do we believe...certainly not in the Hollywood version.  Strange...definitely!  I do not know what to think…you, the audience…tell me…DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE HERE-AFTER???