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“I died on Saturday, January 18, 2003. This fact is not in dispute. I was cut out of a body bag. I still have a piece of it. When the EMTs found me in the bathroom of a Dairy Queen, my body temperature was 79 degrees, and I had been dead for 45 minutes. Maybe longer.”
After a rookie paramedic risked his career to restart Vincent’s heart, Vincent spent three days in a coma.
She told me that her name was Andrea. She wasn’t the kind of girl that I would have necessarily been attracted to or dated in the past. I had always dated girls with darker hair, and even darker personas. I could see that Andrea was different than any other girl I had ever known. She had a goodness about her that shone. Literally. I could see it.
A few months after his recovery, Vincent met Andrea. Their fast friendship blossomed into love and they were married soon after. Vincent credits Andrea with inspiring and encouraging him to raise his frequency and live better.
My grandmother was in her eighties when we moved in. She had a ready smile, framed by a full head of white hair done up in a short, roller-set style. Her wardrobe consisted almost entirely of seventies era button-up shirts and polyester slacks, with dresses for Sundays. She always wore a housecoat at home and dressed up to go to the grocery store. She had a kind, calm voice, and would say, “Oh, my word,” about everything. She had a hard time initiating the words “I love you,” but showed her love through her actions; usually by baking. She was famous for her chicken noodle soup and her cookies.
Vincent and Andrea moved to Afton, Wyoming, shortly after they were married to tend to Vincent’s Grandma Dona. While there, Andrea discovered evidence that reinforced the reality of Vincent’s experience, and helped to ease Grandma Dona’s troubled heart.
I turned back to see a black and white photograph of one of the settlers projected on the screen. I felt as if a pitcher of ice water had been poured down my back. It was Drake.
“That’s him, right?” It was yet another example of how Andrea lived in tune with higher frequencies.
I just stood there as tears rolled down my cheeks. It was him; his piercing eyes were unmistakable. The beard he wore as my guide was cleaner on the ends, and a little longer, and his hair was combed back in the picture, not flowing like when I met him. He looked a lot older in the picture than when I knew him in spirit, yet, I knew it was him. Everything matched.
Charles “Drake” Cazier was Vincent’s guide on the other side. Vincent later discovered a surprising connection that he has with Drake on this side, as well.
