Chapter 8
by Cecelia Hender
I had never heard of Purple Papers. I had never even heard of Roland Comtois.
Then my husband died. His name was Stephen Michael Hender and he was the love of my life. Stephen died on March 23, 2011. That’s when I know he went to heaven. The date on his gravestone says March 30, 2011, the day his body was found.
Stephen was a wonderful man. In the thirty-six years we were married, I never heard him say a bad thing about anyone. Really. He was always kind, and as I always said, he was a gentleman and a gentle man. He loved to garden and loved helping people. I loved to make him laugh. He always looked forward to retiring one day. “You and me, babe,” he would say. But he was a very brittle diabetic and that was how he died.
He left for work one morning, looking as handsome as he always did. He was tall and slim and always looked like he walked out of a magazine. Dressed in his suit and tie, he left for work. I never saw him again.
When the normal time for Stephen to come home came and went and he didn’t come home, I became worried. I realized he had not called me that day. I knew it was very busy and stressful at work, so at first I didn’t think too much of it, until I was unable to reach him on the phone. I need to tell you that Stephen and I shared one heart and one soul. You never saw one of us without the other, and we spoke often through the day. This was a particularly hard time for him at work, and I just figured it was busy. But when I was unable to reach him and my calls went directly into voice mail over and over, I knew something was wrong. I called my son Jeff to come. With the traffic, I thought it would take him about two hours to get to me.
I was standing at my kitchen counter, calling person after person that he worked with—I even called his bosses, who were no help at all. No one seemed at all concerned. I was frantic. It was then that I felt this pull in my chest—it seemed to go up from my chest and out the top of my head. I remember grabbing hold of the kitchen counter and the first thought that came to mind was that my soul left.
Stephen never came home that night. When Jeff arrived, we called the police immediately. We decided we needed help. I had already called all the hospitals to no avail and asked everyone I knew to pray. We sat on the couch, dozing off here and there and waited. I screamed in anguish out the front door. It was a snowy March night and I was worried if he was cold. Where could he be?
So many police came in and out of the house; there was so much anguish and endless questions. We were trying to fit this puzzle together. But I knew it was Wednesday and his pump would need to be changed for his insulin. Before he received the pump, he would give himself many shots of insulin daily, as well as testing his blood sugar many times a day. But with all the stress of the job issues this week, he wasn’t testing as often, and he wasn’t eating right during the day. I was fearful that his insulin levels were not right.
We spent a tortuous week praying and begging that he be found alive. He had come home many times with low blood sugar. I could tell by looking at him. I was always able to get his sugar back into range, even when he was “basically out of it” from low blood sugar. I begged God to give me this chance one more time. Let him be found so I can fix him again.
It took a week before they found his car. It was parked at the pond. We called it the Swan Pond because we used to watch the swans there. Some friends called us “the Swans” because swans mate for life. You never saw me without Stephen or Stephen without me. Now he was without me and I was without him. His car was found but he was nowhere in sight. The police and rescue squads searched the water—twice—and told me he was not in the pond. I was so glad! At least we had a shot of finding him, I thought, grabbing on to the slightest possibility of hope. But then, they went back in the pond one more time and … they found my beautiful Stephen. And that’s the day I died. And that’s the date they put on his gravestone.
A friend told me about Roland. She said he was coming to her place in Norwell, Massachusetts. She said to please come. She hoped I might receive a message from Stephen or at the very least some explanation of what transpired that fateful day.
“Yes, I will come,” I told her. I wanted to know what happened to my Stephen. I knew he had low blood sugar, but what happened? Why couldn’t he make it home?
So I made plans to see this man who shared spiritual communications and hear what he might have to say. My first impression of him made me smile. I had months and months of never smiling and for some reason this man made me smile. I think I figured he was enlightened in some way and maybe he could help me. I could feel Stephen with me and I even had many experiences that made me know he was with me, but for some reason I was waiting for something else, something that Stephen wanted me to hear.
That evening Roland came directly to me and said, “Your husband did not drown—he died before he hit the water.” Roland touched his fingertip and said, “He doesn’t have to do this anymore,” as he mimicked someone testing his blood sugar. “He bottomed out—his blood sugar bottomed out.”
The tears rolled down my face and I wanted to know more.
Roland handed me my first Purple Paper, dated March 1, 2013. It said, “I am safe in heaven. I know no one knows what happened, but I am in heaven.” Oh my God, this is what I needed to hear. I pressed that Purple Paper to my heart. It was magical to me. Roland had drawn the pond area and with it the trees and the water and the bright light going into the water. I just couldn’t let go of this Purple Paper. And although Roland always says, “You don’t need me to get a message from your loved ones,” I do know that to be true. But it was those Purple Papers that drew me back and kept drawing me back. They are, for me, letters from heaven.
My second Purple Paper, dated March 9, 2013, told me more of the story: “The water came over me. I didn’t have time to get out. I saw the light, then passed away. I really found heaven.” This picture was of the water, a figure in the water, and three hearts around him. The light was coming down on him again. It gave me peace. It was another piece of the puzzle.
“Please God, have him give me more,” I begged, “so I can know what happened.” I would never rest without knowing.
My third visit was a heavy one for me. I kept worrying if my Stephen had suffered. Someone must have known that was on my mind because the Purple Paper dated July 22, 2013, that Roland handed me that night said, “You need to know that I was not in the car, but I did not feel pain.” The picture was of my husband’s car at the water with three stars in the sky. He did not feel pain. Thank you.
I got a lot of signs from Stephen from day one. He seemed frantic to let me know he was OK. That’s what I felt anyway in my heart. And yet I kept asking, are these cardinal birds really from you, Steve?
Soon it was time to go again and see if there would be a Purple Paper for me. This one was dated August 12, 2013, and there was a picture of a bird on it. The writing on it said, “So, my wife will ask you, ‘Did my husband really send me the bird in the yard?’ Tell her ‘YES.’ ”
Well, you cannot get clearer than that … Oh yes, you can … Oh yes, you can …
It was my birthday, June 21, 2014. My son Jeff asked what I wanted for my birthday. I knew he was suffering as I was. I said, “Jeff, I would like you to come to see Roland with me for my birthday.” It didn’t take much convincing, but I knew he was a little skeptical at first. While we were driving, we agreed that Jeff would ask his dad to mention my birthday. No one else was there.
During the presentation, Roland said, “Is it someone’s birthday?” Jeff looked at me—and then Roland said, “Does your name begin with C? I am hearing C.” Yes, it does begin with C, but more than that—my husband called me “Ce.” Just “Ce” and it was my birthday. Jeff damn near fell off his chair. The paper had June 21, 2014, on it. Around the date was a C in quotation marks. The picture was the pond with the water, the trees, and a figure in the water, like the others with the three hearts. It said, “I tried so hard to stay strong for you. I tried so hard to keep myself together. I found the angels because of you.” This was the most special paper I was to receive.
But remember, Stephen was missing for a week. I was in such anguish and my soul has never recovered. I saw Roland again and received another life-changing message. The Purple Paper was very specific for what I was thinking of … they always are. Dated July 22, 2014, the paper said, “1-2-3-4 days, 5-6-7 days. I passed away without struggling. The water was cold. You can never blame yourself.” Slowly, the puzzle was coming together, and my questions were being answered.
The last paper I received, dated February 23, 2015, had a picture of water—just rippled water—and this time there was no figure in the water. It was gone. The writing said, “Someone helped me from the water. It was like a light. I got lost a little bit, then I felt a light or something. I didn’t know about the ‘light,’ but I really felt it.”
There is no denying that love never dies. There is no denying that our loved ones truly are alive on the other side, and they talk to us and see us. If we open ourselves up, we can experience that love and know they are with us always. For me, the Purple Papers were a key. They helped me open the door to the other side. I have always had experiences since I was a child—but they were buried somewhere in my heart. When Stephen died, it was as if someone told Roland to give me the keys. And every Purple Paper he gave me brought me closer to peace.