"Scissors"

Chapter 21

"In Touch With His Soul

The Adult Years"

Gina Cerminara's biographical interview

with Walden Welch continues·

WW: "My very first thought was, 'Thank God, Astrology does not work! Mama will live. Our charts are wrong.' (Laugh) Isn't that strange? That really was my first thought. However, something within me did not believe the doctors report. I followed him down the hallway and stopped him as he was trying to enter his office. 'Excuse me, please, doctor. Are you certain that what you told us is true?' The tall skeletal man turned around to face me. I could tell by the look in his face that my clumsy question had insulted him. 'I apologize,' I continued. 'I didn't mean that the way that it sounded. What I meant to ask was, do you sincerely believe that my mother will be okay? I was told that she would only have a ten percent chance to survive this surgery. Nobody ever mentioned before that if this surgery went well she would be able to eat salt or climb stairs. This news comes as a shock to both my father and I. My father has threatened to commit suicide if my mother dies and, therefore, I must know the complete truth about everything concerning my mother's condition.' The doctor looked me coldly in the eye and replied, 'I have told you all there is to tell you!' He then exited into his office slamming the door behind him. I was sincerely sorry that I had offended him with my bad choice of words. Strangely, however, I was relieved by his curt yet positive reply. I assumed by his blunt statement that he had indeed told us the truth and that my mother's surgery had been miraculous.

"It was nearly 24 hours since the surgery before my father and I were allowed into the intensive care unit to visit with my mother. Mom, although conscious, was heavily sedated. Dad and I stood awkwardly beside her bed, nervous, uncertain as what to do or say. 'Honey, the doctors said that your operation was 100% successful. They said it was a miracle! You will be fine, just fine,' Dad whispered. She did not respond. 'Mama, you are going to be fine. Your surgery was totally successful,' I echoed. I watched as the middle and forefingers of her left hand formed the shape of a pair of scissors. She opened and closed the two fingers several times as if cutting a piece of paper or reaching for a cigarette. She was giving me our signal that she was mentally aware and had undergone the surgery without brain damage. 'What is she doing?' Dad asked with concern. 'She's telling us that she is all right,' I replied. 'She knows we are here.'

"The following day my father's lab reports came back. His doctor told me that he had a severe case of emphysema and would need to seek medical treatment immediately. He did not have a simple cold or flu as my mother and I had hoped. 'Oh, please not now! Please Doctor, don't tell my parents about this now,' I pleaded. 'My mother has just undergone open heart surgery and she would not be able to deal with this problem now. I beg you not to tell her. I don't want my father to know this yet either. He has enough to deal with concerning my mother. I will contact his doctor in Bakersfield and have his treatments begin as soon as my parents are able to return home.' The doctor argued with me but finally gave in to my request for I was insistent that now was not the time to add an additional problem to the problems we were already dealing with.

"For the next ten days I was only allowed short, periodic visits with Mom. These visits were spaced at various times throughout the day and night. Mom rarely spoke and, if she did, her voice was terribly weak, often times breathless and strained. 'Why is she still in intensive care?' I asked her nurses. 'If the operation was successful why hasn't she been moved into another ward by now?' 'The hospital is full. There are no vacant rooms,' they answered. 'But I have seen several empty rooms,' I replied. 'When I am walking the corridors I see several unoccupied rooms.' They did not answer me. On several occasions I asked them, 'Why does her heart monitor look so erratic?' I was referring to a heart monitor that was attached to her arm and sitting on a table beside her hospital bed. I had no idea how to read the monitor, but the narrow green light, which detected heart rhythm, bounced across the small screen like a ping-pong ball gone awry. 'What do you think you are? A doctor?' was the nurse's only reply. No matter how much I pleaded with the nurses to be open and honest with me, they usually ignored me or would act annoyed and agitated with me, and brush me aside. One day I entered Mom's room and found her asleep. She was tossing her head from side to side as if she were experiencing a nightmare. I sat quietly in a chair beside her bed watching her as she moaned and cried and spoke inaudible words. I was not sure if I should awaken her or just let he be. Several moments later she startled me by unexpectedly opening her eyes and looking me directly in the eye as if she had known I was there all the while. She was terribly exhausted and did not smile. In an almost angry voice she said, 'Pillow. Give me a pillow!' Her voice was hoarse and raspy. Her head had been laying pillowless, flat on the mattress of her bed. I stood at the side of her bed looking down at her. 'I'm sorry but I can't give you a pillow, Mom. I know you are uncomfortable laying flat like this but your nurses said that you have to lay in this position for awhile because you are susceptible to catching pneumonia if your head is elevated.' She appeared to be very agitated by my reply and then she pointed a finger at the pillow that was lying in the chair I had been sitting in. 'Give it to me, please,' she asked. 'Put the pillow over my face. I want you to smother me! Please put the pillow over my face! Make my pain go away!'

I ran from her room as fast as I could. I ran down the long hospital corridor to the nurse's station. 'Please help me. You have got to help me!' I begged the nurse on duty. 'My mother is in terrible pain! She has asked me to smother her to death! She has asked me to kill her! You must do something to help my mother's pain! She is suffering!  Please give her something to stop her pain!'"

Dr: "Dear God! Oh, my! What a horrible thing for you to experience."

WW: "Yes, it was! It is a moment I have never been able to forget. It is one of my saddest memories. Never before had I ever heard my mother complain about her pains or illnesses. It would never have been her nature to ask me to take her life. I knew she had to be in unbearable agony and pain to have asked this of me. Gratefully, the nurses were able to ease her pain that day and Mom started resting comfortably within the next several hours. Her doctors assured us all that she would soon show radical improvements. Thinking that her condition would better Pat and I decided to return home on Friday Feb. 9^th for a couple of days in order to wash clothes and attend to necessary business matters. We arrived back in Sonoma about 1:00 PM that day. Late that evening around 11:00 PM the telephone rang. I had barely fallen asleep when the ringing woke me. I had been having that reoccurring dream again; the one where the wilted red rose comes back to life. You know, where the rose is already wilted and then drops of rain fall and bring the wilted rose back to life? When I answered the telephone I was surprised to hear my mothers voice. 'Mom! Where are you calling from? You don't have a telephone in your room.' 'I'm using a pay phone in the waiting room,' she replied. Surprised she could walk any distance on her own I asked, 'But how did you get to the phone?' 'I walked of course. The doctor told me I can be released from the hospital tomorrow at Noon. I was hoping that you could come and pick me up and drive me to Marilyn's house. Your father and I will stay with Marilyn and her family for a week until my stitches are ready to be removed. After that Tony and Betty will drive your father and me back to Bakersfield.' 'Of course I will come and pick you up tomorrow. I will leave first thing in the morning and be there no later than Noon. But I just don't understand, Mom. Why didn't your doctor tell me he was releasing you this soon before I left Palo Alto this morning?' 'I have no idea,' she replied. 'He just told me I could go home about one hour ago.' There was a short pause and then she continued, 'What did your father's doctor tell you about the results of his x-ray's and physical check up? What were the results of his tests?' she asked. 'I told you, Mom. He just has a bad chest cold. His doctor said it was nothing to worry about,' I lied. 'Well that's not what he told me!' she answered. There was a long pause. I could almost hear her thinking. I realized then that she regretted she had made the comment she had. Finally she continued the conversation, 'Oh, yes. That's what the doctor told me, too. He said Bud had a very bad chest cold. It is nothing to worry about. I will see you and Pat tomorrow at Noon.' Without further comment she hung up the phone. Having been awakened from my sleep by Mom's unexpected late night call it did not occur to me until the next morning that it was likely that my fathers physician had gone against my instructions to withhold the fact of my father's illness from my parents until after my mother recuperated from her heart surgery. It was likely that Mom had stopped questioning me because she assumed that I was not aware of the fact that my father had emphysema and she was trying to hide the truth from me.

"The following morning Pat and I arrived at the hospital at 11:00 AM. Before going to Mom's room I went to the nurses station and asked if I might speak to her doctor. I was very concerned as to why she was being released from the hospital so early. I was told that the doctor was unavailable. 'The doctor would not be releasing your mother if she were not well enough to go home, Mr. Welch!' was the nurse's curt reply. Pat and I gathered Mom's belongings and as we carried her things to the car a nurse pushed my mother along side us by wheelchair. Mom was terribly irritable that day. I knew that she was extremely exhausted and so I used that as an excuse for her unusual behavior. When we arrived at my sister Marilyn's home I was upset to find several members of the family gathered there. They had come with the good intention of visiting Mom, but it was obvious to me that she was not up to the excitement of having company so soon. We had barely entered the house when she asked me if she could lie on the living room sofa. From there she could watch and listen to those in the kitchen who were preparing lunch. I made her as comfortable as I could and then went into the kitchen to prepare a luncheon plate for her. 'Look Mom,' I said. 'I've kept my promise! I bought you some prawns. I have a plate of prawns for you!' 'Thank you, Sweetie,' she said as she reached into the plate and took one prawn and clumsily put it in her mouth. I watched as she tried chewing it but she was far to weak to do so and so I took the prawn from her and put it back on the plate. 'Mama, I am worried about you!' I remarked. 'You must go to bed and rest!' I returned to the kitchen with her plate. 'Listen, everybody,' I said. 'I know you all mean well, but Mom is too weak to have company. I think we had all better go home so that she can go to bed and rest. If you stay she will insist on staying up and trying to visit. She is just too weak for company. Look at her,' I said as I turned around and pointed at her for them to take notice of how frail she appeared. I was shocked to see my sister's cat's body lying across my mothers face. I ran into the living room and removed the cat and put it outside. There is an old wives tale that a cat can lay across ones face and suck the breath from ones body thus causing their death. The very thought of that myth caused a shiver to run up my spine. 'Mama! Everyone is going home and you are going into the bedroom to rest and to sleep! NOW!' I said as I tried lifting her. She pushed me aside angrily and managed to get herself on her feet by herself. I put my arm around her waist and guided her down the hallway towards her bedroom. 'Pat and I are going home tonight, too. You will never sleep if we stay here,' I said. 'Very well. Do whatever you damn well please!' she answered belligerently. She was angry with me and I felt heartsick that I was making her so unhappy, yet I was so concerned about her that I did not know what else to do. 'I'm sorry, Mama. You must get rest! You just got out of the hospital.' I helped her onto the bed and covered her with her blanket. 'Tell me what the doctor said about your father,' she asked. 'Mom, I already told you what he said. Dad just has a bad cold. It's that time of year when people get colds,' I answered. 'Why do you keep asking me this question? 'What in the hell am I trying to get well for? Now he is sick, too. Wasn't Parkinson's disease enough? Now this! It's just another battle for me to fight. I'm tired of fighting battles,' she said disgustedly. 'I will never be able to get away now.' I now knew for certain that the doctor had divulged the fact to my mother that my father was ill with emphysema. 'Mom, please. Please don't worry about anything except getting yourself well. We will take things one day at a time. Things will get better.' I did not know what else to say. She lay quiet for a moment and then looked up into my eyes and said, 'Are you coming back to see me tomorrow?' 'Of course I will be back tomorrow. The only reason I am only going home tonight is so that you will rest. Pat and I will come back tomorrow.' She reached her hand to my cheek and touched it gently then said, 'Wally, can you ever forgive me for the life I have given you?' 'What are you talking about?' I answered. 'Can you forgive me for the life I have given you?' she repeated. 'Mom, don't be ridiculous! You have been a wonderful mother. Thanks to you I have had a wonderful life.' She pressed her lips together tightly. A pained expression crossed her face. 'How can you say that? Because of me you never had a childhood. Because of me you never had security. Because of me...' 'Stop it, Mom!' I interrupted.  'Because of you I had the most wonderful Mom in the world. Who ever had more love than me? After Priscilla died you were told by your doctors that you could never have another child. They said that for you to try to bare another child would kill you. You said that you would rather be dead than not have a child and so you risked your life in order to have me. I was wanted before I was even born. I am lucky because you lost Priscilla.' A look of hurt crossed her face as she looked deep into my eyes and said, 'What do you mean?'  'What I mean is that I benefited because you lost Priscilla. You were hurt so deeply by her death that you transferred all the love you had for her over to me. You were the perfect mom·every minute of everyday. My only regret in our relationship is that I could not make you well. I wish that you could have had good health. That is my only regret.' She lay very still for a moment as if in deep thought and then reached her hand to my cheek touching it gently. 'Sweetie, you are happy now aren't you?' she asked. 'Yes, Mama,' I answered quietly, 'I am very, very, happy.' 'Good. That's good. I want for you to be happy more than anything else in this world,' she replied as her hand fell from my cheek to the bed. In a moment she was asleep.

"Pat and I were exhausted when we arrived home at 5:00 PM that evening. It was a two and a half hour drive from San Jose. We ate a late dinner then retired to bed by 10:00 PM. I awoke in a panic at 4:30 the following morning. I was covered in perspiration. The dream of the wilted rose had returned once again, only this time, for the first time, the red petals of the rose fell from its stem. The dream had so upset me that I could not return to sleep. At 7:30 AM on the morning of Sunday, February 11^th, 1973 our telephone rang. Pat answered it. He spoke for a moment and then looked at me strangely as he handed me the receiver. 'It's Bud. I can't understand what he's saying,' he said. 'Yes, what is it Dad?' I asked. 'JULIA'S DEAD!' he screamed. 'YOUR MOTHER IS DEAD! SHE DIED IN HER SLEEP! JULIA'S DEAD! JULIA'S DEAD!' I don't remember much after that. I was in such a state of shock that I retreated somewhere deep within myself."

Dr: "And so the ending of the gypsy's riddle came to pass: 'Heart broken, heart mended thrice to be.' According to the Gypsy's prophesy, Julia was destined to die following her third heart surgery. Considering how close you were to Julia, I can well imagine the pain you were suffering.  You say you retreated somewhere deep within yourself?"

WW: "Yes. I think one's consciousness retreats·hides somewhere within, when pain is too hard to endure. I only remember certain things regarding the preparation for Mom's funeral. I recall Pat and I buying her a new dress to be buried in. It was a beautiful sea foam green dress with white piping. I gave my mother's spun gold crucifix necklace to the funeral director and asked him to have it placed around her neck so that it would be worn for the funeral service. It was the necklace she had given to me when I left home·the necklace she wanted me to have as a keepsake for good luck. I recall Pat and I selecting the casket. I don't recall making the funeral plans. My Aunt Lorraine said to me, 'We must buy a blanket of flowers to cover the casket. I will select something made from Gardenias and Irises.' 'No,' I answered. 'Buy a blanket made of red roses. Don't mix any other flowers with them·only red roses. Red roses are Mom's favorite flower.' It was at that moment that the meaning of my dreams of the wilted red roses came to be understood. Every night before Mom would become ill and be hospitalized I would dream of the red rose wilting."

Dr: "I see. That indicated her sickness and need to be hospitalized?"

WW: "Yes. On the nights before she would be released from the hospital, drops of rain would fall upon the wilted rose and it would strengthen and stand tall as if healed. This of course indicated my mother's healing."

Dr: "And on the night before her death the petals of the rose, for the first and only time, fell from the stem of the rose. The red rose in your dreams symbolized your mother. When you dreamed of the red rose you dreamed about Julia's physical conditions? "

WW: "Exactly. I have never had a dream of red roses since my mother's death. Edgar Cayce said that dreams that foretell death are usually symbolized either by a pair scissors or by passenger trains. A pair of scissors would suggest cutting the silver cord of the astral body thus separating it from the physical one. Trains, of course, would suggest long journeys. In my case the falling of the petals of the rose was the symbol of my mother's death."

Dr: "That is fascinating! Throughout your childhood, teenage years and adulthood, your reoccurring dreams of red roses forewarned you of your mother's health conditions·truly fascinating and sensible! I would like to question something else you said. You made a statement, 'I think ones consciousness retreats·hides somewhere deep within, when pain is too hard to endure.' With this statement did you mean to imply that Julia's death was so painful for you that you astral projected·your soul separated from your body·you soul exited your physical body?"

WW: "No. No I did not mean to imply that I separated my soul, or consciousness from my physical body. What I meant to imply was that the pain was so great that I locked my feelings deep within myself. I became rather like a zombie. I functioned; I did what I had to do to prepare for the funeral. It was like something outside of myself was controlling me. It was as if I were a Marionette Puppet being pulled by strings. I felt like I was engulfed inside a cocoon or bubble. No, actually I guess I felt more like I was in the eye of a tornado and all was calm in the center of that eye but the world around me was immersed in a horrible storm. I was conscious of everything that was going on around me; however, I rarely spoke unless spoken to. I believe many people have experienced these feelings during a time in which they must survive the agony of losing a loved one? Perhaps it is God's way of allowing us to survive so intense a pain."

Dr: "Very well put. I understand exactly what you are struggling to express."

WW: "I remember the undertaker asking me to view my mother's body before the funeral service. 'Please study her appearance carefully. We can make any necessary changes in her physical appearance before the service. We want her to look as natural as possible. Mr. Welch, do you mind if I ask you a question? Naturally, we noticed her surgical scars while we were preparing her body for burial. Was her heart surgery preformed at Stanford Medical Center? Did she pass on shortly after being released from the hospital.' I nodded my head yes  in reply. 'I see,' he answered. 'My wife's closest girlfriend also had heart surgery there a couple of months ago. They released her from the hospital twenty-four hours before she died. Did you know that it counts against the surgeon's record if a patient dies while in the hospital? If they die at home it does not count against the surgeons record.' His comment caused me to feel sick to my stomach. Was it possible that the doctors released my mother from the hospital knowing that she was going to die? Could they be so cruel as to have done that? I remember being confused and upset following his statement. 'Please, you must view the body now,' the funeral director said. My conscious mind said, 'I cannot do this. This is the moment I have feared all my life. I have always feared seeing my mother dead in a coffin.' The next remembrance I have was of standing beside her casket looking down at her body and admiring how pretty she looked. She appeared to be sleeping. It was difficult to believe she had died. I said to her, 'Mama, you know I believe in life after death but you need not try to return to me to give me a sign that this is true. You have suffered so much in your lifetime. Please forget about Dad and me. Go far, far away from this earth plane and find God. Forget about all the sorrow you have experienced. Forget about Dad and me. Please, Mom, go far, far away and find God and the happiness you deserve.' I was amazed by the words I had spoken for they came automatically without my thinking. I completely released her at that moment and I remember being amazed that I had willingly done so because I loved her so greatly. I also realized at that moment that I truly believed in life after death. As I was speaking to my mother was the only time in which I felt I was in my astral body rather than in my physical one.

"My memories of the funeral itself are very blurred. I do recall going into the bedroom to see if my grandmother was ready to leave for the service. When I opened the door I found her kneeling on the floor. I could hear her crying and that surprised me because my grandmother was the strongest woman I had ever known and I could never imagine her to cry. I went to her and knelt beside her and said, 'Please, Grandma, don't cry. Thank God that you still have seven children who are living.' She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said, 'But I do not have Julia! I knew I had to outlive my parents and my husband, but NOT my children. That is the pain that kills a woman. It is not natural to outlive ones children. I do NOT have my Julia!'

"I recall how surprised I was to see so many people attending the funeral service. There were several hundred people in fact. I did not recognize the majority of them. 'How could my mother have known so many people?' I asked myself. 'This poor soul who, due to her bad health, rarely got to go anywhere and was hundreds of miles away from her nearest relatives·how could she have known so many people? I was proud, very proud of her that day. My father was drunk before and during the ceremony, but not drunk enough to become offensive, loud or obnoxious. His pain was so great that even the excessive amount of bourbon he had drunk could not deaden the pain from the reality he was experiencing. He sat silently beside me, crying throughout the service.

"After the priest had finished, I watched as the people passed by the casket single-file saying their final goodbyes to my mother. My aunts, Lorraine and Marion, helped my half-sister Marilyn walk to the casket. Each of them held one of her arms for Marilyn was so tearfully distraught that she kept stumbling as she made her way towards the casket. I pitied her because I knew she was saying farewell to the mother who had given her birth but had never raised her. I recalled that time in Stockton, many years ago, when I had over heard my mother begging Marilyn to come and live with us, and how Marilyn had rejected that offer. I wondered now if she regretted she had made that decision.

"I noticed that Lorraine and Marion were greatly upset by something. They stood beside my mother's casket, angry looks upon their faces. When it was time for my father and I to pay our final farewells I took him by the arm and walked him to the casket. As he bent forward to kiss my mother for a final time I walked to where my aunts were standing and whispered to them, 'What's the matter? What are you two so upset about?' My aunt Lorraine replied, 'Who the hell put that necklace on her?' She pointed to the crucifix around my mother's throat. 'I asked the funeral director to put it on her. That is Mom's favorite piece of jewelry. My father gave it to her many years ago,' I replied. 'He did NOT!' she snapped. 'That was given to her by one of her old boyfriends from long before she knew your father! Bud did not give that necklace to Julia, Jimmy Cas...'  She stopped speaking just short of telling the old boyfriend's last name and then said, 'Go tell the funeral director to have that necklace removed from Julia's body right away!'

"I did not believe Lorraine when she said that someone other than my father had given my mother that necklace. Mom had always stated that Dad had given it to her. However, I did as my aunt requested. I asked the funeral director to remove the crucifix. After he handed it to me I walked over to my father and said, 'Here Dad, I want you to have this back. It's the necklace you gave Mom years ago. It should be yours.' My father's face turned an angry shade of red. 'GET THAT OUT OF HERE!' he snapped. 'I did NOT give that to Julia and I don't ever want to see it again!' It was at this moment that I realized my Aunt Lorraine was correct. The crucifix was most likely given to my mother by another man, a man by the name of Jimmy Cas...? By the reactions of my two aunts and my father, I realized that whoever this man was, it was most likely that he was my sister's father. This was the reason why my mother had kept the necklace hidden in secret places and why she had never worn it in my father's presence. I placed the necklace in my suit jacket and was never to speak of it again for years to come. 

"It showered the morning of the burial. It is a day I do not like to remember. I have erased most of that memory from my mind. I recall people tossing red roses upon my mothers casket as it descend into the earth. That is my only memory of the burial.

"Pat and I returned to Sonoma late that afternoon. My father returned to Bakersfield with his brother and his wife Joyce whom he would be staying with for the next several days. It was a relief for me to return to work. The previous weeks had been such an emotional ordeal that I wondered how I had survived them. I began my daily appointment schedule and took on several other obligations as well. Mom had always told me to keep busy whenever I was unhappy and depressed, and so I took her words to heart. My friend and client, psychic Betty Bethards, asked if I would agree to lecture at her Inner-Light Foundation meetings. I agreed. Once a week I would give an evening lecture in various bay area cities. I also lectured at numerous Edgar Cayce, In Search Of God study groups in northern California. Several newspaper and magazine stories regarding my life and work were published in 1972 and 1973. Due to this notoriety, I was asked to appear on several radio and television programs. I became a regular monthly guest of KGO radio's  'Owan Spann Show' in San Francisco as well as Dee Merrit's greatly successful 'California Guys' program in Oakland. In March of 1973 I was offered my own weekly two hour radio program, 'Walden Welch, Astrologer' on KTIM Radio in San Rafael. I was excited about having my own show because the producers allowed me complete creative control. Each week I would interview a celebrity from the world of metaphysics during the first hour of the program. The second hour of the show was dedicated to doing telephone readings for listeners who called in. My show was a totally new concept in radio broadcasting and it became highly successful. I had several interesting and remarkable guests."

Dr: "I hope that includes me?"

WW: (Laugh) "You bet it does! You were the first person I asked to interview and you were wonderful! You talked about your new book, 'Insights For The Age Of Aquarius' and you were fascinating. The audience loved you."

Dr: "You also had Frank Dorland on one time. I remember that show. Frank is the man who has access to the famous Crystal Skull. I never missed your program. You had several guest astrologers on your program as well as I recall."

"Walden Welch, Astrologer" 

Radio Publicity Photo

WW: "Yes, I had Richard Ideman on a couple of times as well as Marcia Stark, David Keil, and Linda Goodman. I also interviewed psychics such as Betty Bethards."

Dr: "And Reverend Pearl Shannon?"

WW: "Yes, I had Pearl on a guest as well. That was a day I will never forget! I had not seen Pearl in four or five years. Due to our busy schedules we had lost contact with each other. I phoned her one morning and asked if she would do a guest appearance on my program and she agreed."

Dr: "Unfortunately, the greatest moments from her appearance were not presented on your program. They preceded your broadcast. I wish you had shared them on the program that day."

WW: "I wish I had, too, but I was so taken by surprise by what happened just before we went on the air that I was too upset to think."

Dr: "You have told me this extraordinary and amazing story before. Please share it with me once again."

WW: "Yes, of course. Pearl was late to arrive at the studio. We had planned that she arrive at least a half-hour before airtime so that I could discuss with her the questions I would be asking. It was only about ten minutes before airtime when she finally entered the studio. 'I'm so sorry I'm late, dear. My Indians were slow in finding me a parking place.' She seated herself across the desk from me and I hurriedly began prepping her about the questions I would be asking during the program. Just as I was about to place a microphone in front her, she stopped me by placing her hand over mine. A strange look came over her face, a look that I knew well. She was in trance state. 'Oh my! Oh, my! Walden, you did not tell me that your mother died!' Her comment so surprised me that I felt I had been socked in the stomach. 'I didn't have time to tell you Pearl. Yes, yes·my mother died three months ago,' I answered. I took several deep breaths to calm myself. Pearl's eyelids fluttered and then closed tightly into narrow cat like slits. She peered deeply into the space in the room before her then slowly continued speaking. 'She is here in the room with us. Oh, my·she is such a pretty little thing isn't she? She has your eyes and your hair exactly. She normally wears glasses doesn't she? She tells me she has no need for glasses any longer. Why she isn't even five feet tall is she?' 'No, Pearl,' I answered quietly so as not to distract her. 'Mom was under five feet tall and yes, we have the same eyes and hair. She wore glasses all of her life.' It was difficult for me to speak for I was so shaken by this unexpected experience that I was nearly breathless. Pearl continued, 'Ohhhh·she is showing me her love for you. She is so proud of you. She is sharing with me the love she feels for you.  Ohhhhh... I am feeling her love for you! Ohhhhhh...such deep, devoted love,' she chanted. Due to her words I lost control of my emotions and began to cry. I know without question that Reverend Pearl was incapable of lies or pretenses and that what she was experiencing was real. She had no way of knowing that my mother had died, nor had she ever seen a photograph of her or ever met her in person. Despite these facts, her description of my mother was exact. 'I am so sorry I made you cry, my dear,' Peal said as she reached across the desk placing her hand in mine. 'I did not mean to make you cry.' 'You needn't apologize Pearl. You didn't make me cry. I just didn't expect this. You have caught me by surprise. Mom only died three months ago and I miss her terribly,' I answered while wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. 'Wait! Be still for just a moment. She is trying to give me a message but I do not quite understand what it is she is trying to say. She is giving me symbols that I do not understand.' Pearl raised her eyes heavenward and said, 'Please, dear God, help me to interpret these symbols for the boy. I am confused and do not understand them. I ask Thee for clarity.' 'What symbols, Pearl? What symbols is she giving you?' I asked. Pearl gazed back into the space before her then said to me, 'She is standing directly in front of you, Walden. She is smiling at you. I am feeling her love for you. Your mother is holding her right hand directly in front of your face. With this hand she is forming the shape of a pair of scissors with her mid and forefingers. She is opening and closing these two fingers together as if she is cutting a piece of paper with a pair of scissors. No, now she is placing the scissors in front of her lips as if she is smoking a cigarette. This is terribly confusing! I simply do not understand what it is she is trying to say. I'm sorry dear. I have done my best. I simply do not understand what it is she is trying to say to you.' 'I understand the message Pearl,' I said softly. 'I understand the message completely.' 'Wait!' Pearl interrupted. 'Your Mother is speaking to me now. She is saying, "Ask him to forgive me for asking for a pillow. Ask him to forgive me for asking for a pillow." What a strange message! She keeps repeating these words over and over again, "Please forgive me for asking for a pillow," she says. Please forgive me for asking for a pillow." I do not understand what it is she is trying to convey to you but these are the exact words she is speaking. Can you understand any of this, dear?' Pearl asked with a quizzical childlike look upon her face.  I smiled at the dear lady and reached across the desk and placed both of her hands lovingly into mine. 'Yes Pearl, I understand what my mother is saying. Your translation is perfect and clear. I understand every word of it·every wonderful word!"