Death is the great equalizer; whether you’ve built a financial empire, or were so poor you’ve never owned anything of value; whether you were a head of state, or a lowly clerk toiling in a drab and depressing office; whether you were the patriarch of a large family and had many friends, or spent a lonely existence with no family and few friends; none of that matter once they throw the dust on you. The cemetery is a perfect democracy.

If you’ve read my articles, “The Third Article of Faith,” and “The Sublime Adventure,” you already know that physical death is not the end, but rather a new beginning. But here again, once you depart from your native planet, you’re equal to everybody else. Your status while you dwelt in the flesh will play a role, but it will be limited in scope. The System receives mortals from hundred of planets, financiers and heads of state abound. Ultimately, it’s your contribution that counts. The higher Personalities in charge of the enormous task of administrating the System will appreciate your willingness to learn and to help out; put another way, “To do the will of the Father.”

* * *

I was 4 years old when this incident happened. Unlike other incidents where my parents and other relatives provided further details later on, the event I will be describing is based strictly on my memory – the memory of a young child. Note that I am not including all of the sketchy details I have retained out of respect for the people involved.

I was in the house of a dying man. The house was large and filled with people, for this individual had many children and a young wife; as well, there were other relatives. I got a chance to see him from far; he had a large flowing beard and was leaning against many pillows, his daughter was giving him a drink of water.

Later on, I heard his wife screaming, and this was followed by sobs. The next thing I remember was seeing everybody crying. And that is all I recall.

The question here is how is it that a young child was present in the house at such a time? I can guess as to how it happened, but I will remain silent. All I will say, is that if I guessed right, the circumstances were beyond the control of the people who were supervising me at the time. As far as I know, my parents were never told what happened.

This therefore was my first encounter with death. I was not affected, presumably, because I was still too young to fully understand the drama unfolding in front of my very eyes.

Again and again, I was confronted with the end of physical life. Gradually, these episodes sent me seeking the answers to the eternal questions: “Why am I here, and where do I go from here?” And in time, I found satisfactory answers, answers I have already shared with my readers on this site.

I am now sharing some of these experiences with you, going, as it were, a step backward.

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