Chapter 21
by Mary Ann Blakely
My father, who was my hero and larger than life when I was a child, passed away on March 18, 1995. It was very difficult losing him, as he was always my rock. I knew I could count on him for good advice and help whenever I needed it. He was a strong man, an ex-Marine, a police detective, a good provider, and most importantly, a loving and very humorous man. He knew how to tell a great story and was often asked to be toastmaster by friends and acquaintances, who knew he would rise to the occasion. Whenever he spoke, he left everyone holding their sides and crying from laughing. I was the oldest of his five children and everyone said he favored me. That made me so proud.
My father was raised in New Jersey. He was the son of a German immigrant who came to this country as a young boy under his new stepfather’s name when his mother remarried. My father was also raised with that surname. His mother died when he was a toddler, and he was passed around to be raised by various family members when his father went off with the Merchant Marines. I do not know when my grandfather died, but it was when my father was a very young man.
My father joined the Marines during World War II. He learned from his aunt what his real surname was and went to the town hall to search for his birth certificate. My grandfather had used the surname on my father’s birth certificate because my father was American born and in no danger of being deported. Right then and there, my father decided to use that surname as his own from then on.
Off my father went into the Marine Corps. Like so many young men in those days, he married a local girl right before he was shipped off to the South Pacific. After the war, he returned to New Jersey and to his war bride. They tried to make a go of it, but things did not work out. They divorced while their baby was still an infant.
My father left New Jersey and moved to Connecticut, where he met and courted my mother. They fell in love, married, and had five children together during their happy forty-eight-year marriage.
Dad never shared with us the fact that he had been married before or that he had a son by his first wife. When she remarried, her new husband wanted to raise the boy with his surname as they had other children. So when the boy was just six years old, my dad went back to New Jersey to sign off on the adoption papers and relinquish all rights to his firstborn son.
We all lived our lives without any knowledge of this until three months after my father died. That’s when we heard from his son, Jack. It was June 1995. Apparently, his adopted father had just passed away, and his mother was now free to divulge who Jack’s biological father was. Even though our father had passed away too, we agreed to meet this man. He was now living close by in Long Island.
It was a beautiful reunion. Here was a man who so greatly resembled my father, both in appearance and in his gregarious, outgoing personality. We bonded instantly with a bear hug. It was love at first sight, and I immediately adored my big brother.
Here’s the missing piece of the puzzle. I had secretly known about him since I was thirteen after reading a document that had been left out on Dad’s dresser. My mother made me promise never to speak of it. It was my father’s secret to tell. I kept that promise close to my heart, always wondering about the little boy who was named after my dad.
For the next six years, my big brother and I made up for lost time. We were very close. We spoke frequently on the phone. He called me “sis.” We visited each other’s homes, often staying overnight. We went on outings and attended each other’s birthday parties. He was like a “soul twin” to me. Unfortunately, my siblings did not share this strong familial bond. They never got to know Jack like I did. When he died on September 6, 2001, from liver cancer, just six years after he came into my life, I was devastated and grief stricken. It was like losing my dad all over again.
After my brother Jack died, I wondered if he was with my dad. Did they find each other after the both died? Did my dad meet up with his own mother and father? Would they even know each other? My grandfather, father, and his son all grew up with three different surnames, but they all originally had the same exact names, first, middle, and last.
On September 29, 2006, I went to see Roland at a Channeled Messages for the Soul event. I brought my journal with me, along with three pictures I kept inside. One was of my grandfather, one was of my father, and the other one was of my brother Jack.
I sat in the audience of about forty people wearing nametags with their first names, hoping that Roland would have a message for me. He came into the room, introduced himself, and began telling his story. Then he quieted down and became still. He started to single out different people, speaking to them intimately about loved ones who had passed. Of course, the tissues started to be passed around. Then Roland came up to me, stopped, and looked me right in the eye. He said excitedly, “You are surrounded by love, Mary Anne. There’s a man standing next to you, not old. There’s a youthfulness about him. There are three men in the same family. Your brother is here … Your father is here … Your grandfather is here. Your father says he loves his little girl … he’s talking about love … a soul mate. He says, sorrows will ease, a peace will come. You’ve been having headaches. They are working on you. You will be more at ease. A soul mate … pray. Stay true to your truth. Somebody left you. You fell in love … he’s coming back.”
Roland stopped and just looked at me like a light bulb just went off. He headed to the table in front of the room and started to rifle through a stack of Purple Papers. “I know it’s here. I know it’s for you. Can you believe it?” Suddenly, he returned with a large Purple Paper dated September 25 written four days earlier with a black marker.
The message said, “All three are gone. All three have the same 1st name.” Yes, they are all named John. “Picture of all three.” I opened my journal and showed Roland the three pictures. Then, inside a circle that was drawn on the paper was written “son, father, grandfather.” Yes, that is their relationship to one another. Then Roland turned the paper over to reveal the words “3 men from one family will gather to speak to the little girl.”
Tears of joy streamed down my face. They were all together, and they are still with me. It was the most awesome, fulfilling, amazing spiritual feeling of my life.
I have been to see Roland at other events since then, always hoping for another message. On one such occasion, at the end I went up to ask Roland a question. I asked if my daughter who had been married for six years and was trying for a child would ever make me a grandmother. He said yes but the problem wasn’t hers. It was her husband’s, on his left side. I told my daughter what Roland said and her husband went to the doctor’s to be checked out. It turned out that Roland was right, and the problem was solved. My first grandchild was a boy, and my daughter named him after my brother Jack. He was born on June 7, 2009. I was with him the moment he was born. We locked eyes and the love connection was immediate and strong. I remain very close to that little boy Jack.
I went to see Roland again on October 16, 2009. He had a Purple Paper for me, dated October 13, 2009. This one only had three words written on it: “Jack is free!!!”
I feel my grandson Jack has so much of his Great Uncle Jack in him and also his great grandfather. Having him is a blessing and a comfort.