Chapter 43
by Bobbi Parlett
I met Roland during my grief journey following the passing of my husband, Ed. He had passed after a five-month battle with bladder cancer in the middle of the night after experiencing breathing problems. I know now that my husband, who was quite skeptical about the afterlife, let alone the possibility of any kind of communication between heaven and earth, is still in my life. My story is even more poignant since he didn’t believe in mediums or the possibility of communicating after death.
It was March 2013, when my sister, also a widow, noting my state of numbness in my grief and trying to figure it all out, invited me to a conference that focused on grief and the afterlife. Roland was one of the speakers at the upcoming June conference. In the presence of about one hundred and fifty people, Roland talked about our loved ones and how they remained with us. He picked me out of the crowd and told me that my husband was standing behind me. He moved quickly to a woman sitting in another row and told her that her son was with her, and then just as fast, he told another lady that her mother was with her. He then proceeded to give specific messages to various people in the audience, eliciting tears at times, laughter at others, and often gasps of surprise. Some of these messages came through prewritten on the Purple Papers he carried with him to the conference.
Roland came back to me several times as he shared messages from my husband. He said my husband knew how hard I tried to do what I could to make him feel better, and that “the fear was gone” now. “My wife needs to know I had trouble breathing but I found peace.”
He also said, “I found Dad,” especially meaningful because my father had passed away suddenly on the same day, years earlier, as my husband. Without question, I could relate to all these messages. Given my husband’s dismissal of this kind of thing during his lifetime, I was in awe that I actually received a message. And I was beyond happy that my husband communicated with me. The people in the room were equally engaged, sharing in the energy and experiences as if they were the ones receiving the message. Whether they were blessed with one or not, everyone in the room left with a feeling of hope, love, and peace. I know I did.
Two years later, I helped plan an event for Roland in Hilton Head, South Carolina. The day before the event, Roland and I had a few minutes to chat. I mentioned that I wanted to go to the beach to look for seashells because I loved to collect shells. Roland paused with a curious look in his eyes and said that he had written a Purple Paper about a seashell collection. He had it among the stacks of Purple Papers he carries with him. I was curious about the possibility of it being for me. He said he would have to look at it and see if he felt that the message was for me or not. At the end of that evening’s event, Roland gave out many Purple Papers for people in attendance, all recorded well in advance without him knowing whom they were meant for. I held my breath before learning that I was one of them. He handed me the Purple Paper he had told me about earlier that day, the one with the seashell collection message.
I looked at the date that was written on the paper, since it is oftentimes significant to the story being told. I racked my brain trying to figure out the meaning of that date to me. Why was it important? Where had I been that day? Was this paper really for me? Then I remembered I had visited my granddaughter that day and had brought with me the seashells we had collected together on a recent trip to Florida. We made a stepping-stone out of them, putting the shells in concrete to preserve them forever.
On the Purple Paper Roland had written the words he had heard from beyond: “Why don’t you start a seashell collection?” Roland noted that as he was writing the message, he heard laughter and felt joy, and a whispered after comment of “Just what you need, another collection.” My husband had a dry sense of humor, so this comment was more than right on! “I send them to you. Do you know why? Just to tell you I’m right here.”
After Roland’s event, I went to see my granddaughter and the stepping-
stone and took a picture of it. At home, I again looked at the Purple Paper and noticed that Roland had drawn water on the paper and a heart in the bottom right corner. I had to catch my breath. The stepping-stone that my granddaughter and I made, on the same day that Roland wrote the Purple Paper, was in the shape of a heart!
Ed and I met in the Bahamas on a little island called Exuma, where we both happened to be vacationing. In love with the amazing seashells I always found there, I also fell in love with the amazing man I met there. After we were married, we returned often, where I still collected seashells on every visit. My husband would laugh, asking me what I was going to do with all those seashells. I smiled, saying I would think of something. After he passed, I would take the kids and grandchildren to Florida, where I continued to collect seashells by the shore.
Through Roland’s Purple Paper, I was overwhelmed that my husband had been with my granddaughter and me as we worked on that heart-shaped stepping-stone and that he wanted us to know he was with us and knew what we were doing!
My experiences at Roland’s events have been major factors in my ability to move forward with my life, in the deepening of my spirituality, and in the strengthening of my understanding of the afterlife. I am comforted to know that my beloved husband is always with me in spirit and that our love is everlasting.