I didn’t think the worst that Sunday morning when my housemate, Angie Nemeth, excitedly told me that she was going to spend the day on the Skookumchuk, fierce rapids located on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia in Canada.
In quick water or calm, Angie loved to be on the water—it was the main reason she volunteered with the Coast Guard.
However, on that day—June 3, 2012—while training with three other volunteers on how to help people who are caught in these dangerous rapids, my friend Angie Nemeth, 43, and another dear woman and neighbor, Beatrice Sorenson, 51, drowned.
They were trapped under their search and rescue boat when it flipped—tossing two men clear while trapping the women underneath.
The men were rescued by a nearby vessel. The women were found under the boat; it was too late to save them.
All the residents of Tyler Road, our little road of about 18 new townhomes in West Sechelt, were in shock and absorbing the fact that our friend with the motto, “loving life and living it” was really gone.
And that evening it seemed surreal as I lay on my bed in the silence of the extra quiet house I shared with Angie; until I sensed someone was there.
I held my breath to help me hear either footsteps or someone hollering, “Hello.”
I thought it might be Angie’s children, Heather and Kerri, or her sweetheart, Dave. However, they were all a province or two away and, though I heard they were preparing to travel to our home in Sechelt, they couldn’t have logically arrived that quickly.
As I lie still and wondered if I would hear a door or a voice, I had a huge aha moment when I realized it was Angie.
And, with that awareness, I perceived a light-being version of her standing in front of me just as if she had walked in the door. But this version of her wasn’t visible like we see things in a dense form on this earthly plain—but rather, a perception in my mind’s eye of a body made of light.
And she was so happy—she had a big smile on her face. She wanted me to know she was okay and, even more than that, she was so happy I could sense her.
I perceived her as similar to her human size though somewhat bigger as her light “body” didn’t have true edges.
I immediately bowed to her and burst into tears, as I was overwhelmed with the greatness of her energy and honored she would visit me so personally.
Knowing she was “listening”, and being awestruck by the light I began with,
“You are so beautiful…Thank you…Thank you. I am so sorry you had to go—why did you have to go now? I love you.”
The love I felt from her was so powerful, like the sun embracing me.
I gazed in her direction with tears falling and with my hands in prayer pose, as I was so touched by the beauty and magnificence of her light.
It was like many evenings when Angie would drop by my room to visit and tell me about her day—but this time without the denseness of a body and absolutely radiating love and light.
Maybe it was an hour we connected—or maybe half an hour, or maybe just 20 minutes. Through much of it I simply repeated softly,
“So beautiful. So beautiful. Thank you. Thank you.”
Of all the visits I have sensed—and there were more—the night of her transition was the most light “visible.”
While sitting in my friend Raven’s kitchen, as I was telling her about Angie’s initial visit, Angie’s energy again visited strongly; Raven picked it up as well and said, “She’s here.”
I knew Angie was there too and sensed her beautiful presence filling up the room. It was so confirming to have someone else witness and sense it.
Of course, Raven would sense it—as an intuitive she makes much of her living being open to other realms.
Though Raven had never met Angie, she connected with my dear friend’s beautiful spirit and even picked up instructions from Angie.
Raven said, “Is there an Isa..Eeesa?”
Then I remembered, “Oh, it must be Lisa.” A friend of Angie’s, Lisa and I had talked on the phone because she kept the house key for me while I was in Ottawa at my own parent’s memorial a week after Angie’s death.
Raven continued, “There is a wooden box to give to Lisa.”
I said, “Okay, I will look for a wooden box when I get back to Angie’s house,” where I was still living.
Lisa and I met for coffee a couple of days later and I explained how Raven and I sensed Angie’s energy. I told Lisa that Angie wanted her to have a wooden box and that I had found two beautiful, carved boxes that held Angie’s beloved pets’ ashes. One of them was Chewy, her sweet, 15-year-old dog who had died the winter before.
Lisa was open to this message from the beyond and explained that both she and her husband loved Chewy and would often care for him when Angie was away. It made sense that this meaningful and lovely carved and engraved box should go to Lisa and her husband.
Angie and I continue to connect energetically.
Though sensing her energy feels comforting, there are no chats about the days’ events and there are no hugs.
After experiencing the higher dimension of her visits, it seems everything has a new perspective—there is nothing on this earthly dimension that can meet the intense beauty of the spirit we are once we leave this dimension.
And though this healing transition is challenging, I thank you dear Angie for everything you are and everything you represent: hero, mother, adventurer, volunteer and friend.
You have touched so many people both while you were in a physical body as well as now, in your light form.
I leave you to go about your beautiful light-being work yet will think of you often.
Like here on earth when you were always busy helping others and volunteering and, of course, enjoying a good party now and again, I know you have things to do in your new dimension too.
Carry on Sweetness…see you on the other side.
Wendy DeMos, singer/songwriter and chant artist, offers devotional and folk music, words and videos. Though usually on the road, Wendy currently lives in Vancouver, Canada. “I’m a creative catalyst, musician, Kundalini Yoga teacher, dancer, writer, traveler, healer, lover, laugher, crier, artist, teacher, student. And I love to meet interesting and authentic folks—like you.”
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Assistant Ed: Terri Tremblett/Ed: Bryonie Wise
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