Conversations with My Daughter on the Other Side: The First Year
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About this ebook
My oldest daughter, Courtney, died in December, 2010, at the age of forty, of complications from twenty years of drug addiction. This is not the story of her life, but her afterlife, in which she is communicating with me, through automatic writing, about what she is learning on the other side.
Although I have done automatic writing at various times in my life, I have never before had such a long, ongoing communication. But then Ive never before had a child pass over. Courtney was a very sociable, talkative, witty, sensitive, loving, and spiritual person when she was alive. Drugs took some of that away, but the essence of who she was on earth and who she is showing me through these writings definitely remains.
She writes, through me, about life on the other side, the reason we come to earth, and the lessons we need to learn. Her writings have been helpful to my family and friends, and my friends have passed them on to some of their friends. It seems to make people feel better and look at things differently. I know its made everything a lot easier for me, knowing shes still around and continues to learn, grow, and pass that information on to us.
I hope youll find her words as inspiring, helpful, and life-affirming as we have.
Barbara B Lauman
Barbara Lauman lives in Denver, Colorado, with her husband, Richard; grandson, Bleu; and three great dogs.
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Conversations with My Daughter on the Other Side - Barbara B Lauman
Copyright © 2012 Barbara B Lauman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-4856-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4525-4858-6 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4525-4857-9 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012904232
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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.
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Balboa Press rev. date: 3/16/2012
CONTENTS
Preface
Automatic Writing–Staying in Touch
The poem:
A poem Courtney wrote for me around 2002:
The Writings Begin: Dec 18, 2010
Dec 22
Dec 26
Dec 27
Jan 3, 2011—Bleu’s 12th birthday
Jan 4
Jan 6
Jan 7
Jan 16
Jan 17
Jan 22
Jan 24
Jan 27
Feb 4
Feb 9
Feb 14
Feb 15
Feb 18
Feb 22
Feb 23
March 4
March 6
March 11, 2011
March 16
March 22
March 27
April 4
April 8
April 9
April 16
April 20
April 22
April 24
April 26
May 1
May 2
May 5
May 9
May 10
May 17
May 22
May 25
June 2
June 6
June 8
June 13
June 14
June 18
June 22
June 28
July 2
July 7
July 8
July 14
July 21
July 28
Aug 1
Aug 8
Aug 10
Aug 11
Aug 12
Aug 13
Aug 16
Aug 23
Aug 26
Aug 31
Sept 7
Sept 13
Sept 17
Sept 21
Sept 28
Oct 4
Oct 10
October 15
Oct 18
Oct 25
Nov 2
Nov 4
Nov 9
Nov 16
Nov 18
Nov 19
Nov 25
Nov 29
Dec 22
Dec 28
Jan 3, 2012 (Bleu’s 13th birthday)
Jan 6
Jan 10
Jan 14
Jan 24
Jan 27
Jan 31
Feb 3
Feb 10
Feb 18
My Thanks
For and through Courtney
February 18, 1970–December 6, 2010
Preface
My daughter, Courtney, has helped more people since she passed over than she ever did when she was alive on earth. She wanted to help people while she was here, but got side-tracked by a 20 year heroin addiction. She would have liked to have been a drug counselor to help young people struggling with addiction, but she could never stop using herself.
She died on December 6, 2010 of an infection stemming from broken needles found in her thigh. The infection spread to her lungs and brain. She had over 40 abscesses in her brain. She was 40 years old. She lived the life of a cat with many lives. She survived too many overdoses to count. She survived homelessness, jail, prison, danger, a near amputation, (due to another infection caused again by needles broken off in her leg), seizures, a couple of strokes and rehabs that never worked for her.
At the age of 16, a gynecologist told her she would probably never have children. At the age of 28, she gave birth to my premature grandson, Gabriel Bleu, who spent his first three months in the NICU and had three intestinal operations in that time. She could have been a great mom, and was, mostly, for nearly a year, but heroin kept calling to her and by then, she didn’t know any other way to live. At the age of 53, I became a full-time mother again.
Automatic Writing–Staying in Touch
The first time I tried automatic writing was about 30 years ago. The reason I tried it goes back about 50 years ago when I was a 14 year old, white girl, just confirmed in the Catholic Church. I had an experience that the Church could not answer. One minute I was myself, and the next I was a 6 year old black slave boy watching my grandfather working in the fields. The next minute, or however long it lasted, I was the 14 year old self I knew. Since I had no idea what had happened or what it meant, I didn’t tell anyone about my experience, not even my best friend, Nancy. But, I never forgot it.
Five years later, I read the book, The Search for Bridey Murphy
, and then I had a name for my experience: reincarnation. I still didn’t quite get it, so I started on a journey to understand what millions of people throughout the world, except in the Western world where I live, already believe.
Off and on, I read whatever I could on the concept of reincarnation, as well as other spiritual writings. Then the day came, in 1971, when I was at a wedding in a church and suddenly I felt faint. Having fainted a couple of times in my life, I got the thought that I wanted to see where you go when you faint. I shot through a tunnel to the top of the church ceiling, into a brightly lighted place where a man stood in a light gray monk type garment. I could also look down and see myself slumped over in the church pew. This man was talking to me, but I couldn’t concentrate on his words, because I was too freaked out, thinking I was dying. I had read about near death experiences and the tunnel and the light were mentioned frequently. There were two reasons I didn’t want to die: My daughter, Courtney, was only 19 months old and I didn’t want to leave her and, being a rather private person, I didn’t want to die in front of a bunch of strangers at a wedding. I went up and down the tunnel a couple of times to this lighted place before I woke up in my body and ran to the bathroom, where I was sick. I did tell a few people about this incident, but when they asked me what this guy in the monk’s robe had told me, I couldn’t answer because I couldn’t remember. I prayed that someday I’d know.
In the meantime, I continued on my spiritual search and joined groups like Self Realization Fellowship and Eckankar. I read books by Edgar Cayce, Raymond Moody and Jane Roberts. Then I read a book by Ruth Montgomery, who channeled her books about the afterlife through automatic writing. That sounded interesting to me, but I never attempted it myself. One day, many years later, I decided to try. It took about a week of sitting with a pen and paper and waiting. Then the pen started to move and a story of four of my past lives emerged for the next year. It