Introduction
The Purple Papers:
Their Stories and Mine
Long before I could understand why, voices have marched through my thoughts, an energetic force that flowed in and out of my consciousness. Emotions from people who had passed on, people I never knew, have always moved through my innermost being. I have come to accept that these feelings or messages are a part of my existence.
Much of my life has been an exploration of an interconnection with the spiritual realm, especially with those who have left the physical world. It seems that the departed are in a place where the ability to send messages and love is limitless.
In my teenage years, conversations, and then private sessions, about departed loved ones evolved. I found myself feeling something, wonderful and oddly joyful, moving through my entire being during these sessions. I automatically began writing “bits and pieces” of messages on tiny pieces of paper. As I adjusted to this experience, I learned to trust that what I was hearing and feeling was distinctly separate from myself. I did not initiate the messages of love and hope. They surprisingly sprung out from me, creating a poignant image for those needing the message.
The sounds. The visions. The energy. The messages never ceased and always amazed me. The silent voice found its tone, and often in the strangest of places, messages would arrive. Over the years, the voices grew stronger and multiplied inside me. I could no longer contain the messages solely in my mind and heart. The storytelling needed to be transcribed. The words had to be brought forth from what seemed like a cavernous cocoon of chatter. Each story needed to be honored and revered for the healing and love it brought.
Some years ago, after I had spent much time communicating with the “other side,” I sought spiritual support through prayer and meditation. I hoped to understand the enormity of and my responsibility to the energy and the messages. I was heard. Something happened. As I became transfixed by a calmness, a holy, serene voice entered my consciousness and said, “Just write on purple paper,” and after a very short pause, “the story you hear.”
I thought, Purple? I like purple! It’s such a glorious, spirit-filled color. It implies, at least to me, being one with God (i.e., light, divinity, spirit). I sat there bewildered by the experience for a second or two, but I knew there was only one thing that I could do, and that was to step forward. As with many instances in life, we are unsure why certain things happen. I feel strongly that this was a synchronized twinkling of the right moment, a prayer answered, and a new beginning all at once.
The Purple Papers, eleven by seventeen inches in size, were birthed into my consciousness by a force greater than me. As I began transcribing, the words and the stories and the vision emerged. Some saw doodles and strange drawings. To me, these papers were sacred love letters, inspired notes, writings of lost love, ignitions of hope, and the possibility that the voice from beyond was real. To my amazement, some messages even offered an apology for wrongdoing or recalled dismay that one person caused another.
I was transformed by the papers in ways I can barely explain. To think I was given the charge of delivering such profound and healing messages. Once prayers and meditations were complete, each time I sat in front of a blank sheet of purple paper, words and names of departed loved ones began to find their way from my black permanent marker to the paper. Colors danced across my vision simply to enhance the message on the Purple Papers. Drawings of beds and hearts, hospitals and houses, rainbows and flowers anchored the scene that was being told to me. The manner in which these images appeared enthralled me as did every word that made the story complete. Messages that held no meaning to me personally somehow created a fortress of wonderment within me.
I looked at the messages with a greater empathy. The understanding of the oneness that exists among us grew deeper. If we truly love, then that love becomes the defining communicator itself, no matter what.
The Purple Papers give voice to those who exist elsewhere. The Purple Papers showcase human kindness, explore forgiveness, and remind us to love. When a father apologized to his daughter about how he passed away, or a son who died unexpectedly tells why, or a husband who left home never to return explains his story, the Purple Papers become a momentary player in the legacy of that one story. Gratitude and reverence is my mantra as each Purple Paper’s story finds its way home … to the rightful owner.
I wondered how many moments of forgiveness, kindness shared, and love experienced would come as I stood, again, in front of a large audience at Rhode Island’s esteemed and premier Stadium Theatre in Woonsocket, Rhode Island. With Purple Papers in hand, I waited as the maroon velour curtains slowly lifted from the stage floor. I saw an audience of hundreds of people, all thirsty for words, for hope, but more so for peace about the loss of a loved one. All praying that they would be the first person to receive a spiritual gift … a message. All wondering if they would be the recipient of a Purple Paper.
As a light shined through the darkened theater, a voice shuttered through me: “There’s my mom. She’s back there. You have a Purple Paper for her.” I ran to the Purple Papers, closed my eyes, felt the energy, and knew there was one for her. I searched. My staff searched. It was there within the hundreds of Purple Papers I had brought with me. I had a feeling it was hers, and that feeling filled every part of me, as it does every time one Purple Paper is delivered. I trusted that feeling because it was pure and knowing. It’s that same feeling you get when you’re embracing your child or holding your friend’s hand through a difficult moment. Something happens in those spaces, just as it does when a Purple Paper is finding its way to someone.
I stood near the edge of the stage and held up high above my head the Purple Paper for all to see. Though the woman was seated nearly in the last row and beyond my sight of vision, I yelled out, pointed to her, and said, “I’ve been waiting for you.” She looked around with amazement, thinking I was talking to the person behind her. Though she wished for it, she never thought that she would encounter her son through the voice of a medium and one Purple Paper. My heart was fluttering too. All I wanted to do was help her through her grief and loss.
The paper was written years before with such concise language about a boat, the water, a heart attack, his girl, and the story of his passing that doubt of whom it was from simply evaporated into thin air. Each word had been translated by a language spoken from spirit to me, and then from me to someone eager to experience solace over the loss of a loved one. I jumped off the stage, ran to her, and showed her the message. Tears blackened her face from the mascara applied earlier in the day. She said quietly in my left ear, “I feel better right now.” Though the Purple Paper was recorded years ago, the young man’s message of his unexpected passing was finally delivered to the rightful owner, his mom. Like all the Purple Papers, they too, in time, will find where they belong.
Time moves on and life has changed since the first Purple Papers. Thousands of messages and papers have been delivered, slowly and methodically, often timely and poignant for the families in need. Messages inscribed on Purple Papers not only affect one person but become symbols of possibilities for the rest of the audience. From gallery-type mediumship events to live Facebook shows (and everywhere in between), the Purple Papers and their stories have created a reality that the love of someone who has passed away is more powerful than death itself. The papers have become a catalyst for those seeking support and those searching for healing.
I understood early on that there was more to the who and what, the where and why of life. That living, and living lovingly, was the true guide to any life experience. This knowledge bridges the ceaseless and boundless connection that exists between us, and that bond remains long after someone passes.
Gratitude envelops me. I often sit there with my eyes closed and the papers close to my heart, with the hope that they will find their loved ones and that the story of who and what, where and why continues. I guess it is quite simple. The Purple Papers and the stories behind them tell us that we live on.
This book and the Purple Papers are meant for those open to the possibility that life exists beyond the human breath. It is for those who are willing to journey toward peace and to search beyond the boundaries of physical life. Signs of Spirit is a glimpse into the afterlife. A peephole into the messages that our loved ones want to tell us.
The reader who accepts the mantle of delving into the Purple Paper stories becomes part of the stories themselves. Within the confines of each word and story is the resemblance of every human life. Loss of a loved one, and the hope for continuity of that love, becomes the driving force in our lives.
This book takes the reader down the pathway of loss and past the avenue of grief into a heartfelt and gentle reminder that our loved ones remain a part of us.
People suggested for years that I tell the stories of the Purple Papers. Some people had sent their stories long before the revelation of this book. Then word got out that something amazing was happening … the storytelling of the Purple Papers was about to be unveiled. Many said they wanted to tell their stories, to celebrate their loved ones with the world and to showcase that love is truly eternal. Born from the infinite understanding of love everlasting, here is a telling glimpse of the thousands of Purple Papers that have been written and the stories that live on behind them.
In the back of this book are several Purple Papers, because “I’ve been waiting for you.”
God is in here.
Spirit is in here.
Love is in here.
And they are all one and the same.