MARK, MY WORDS

An Afterdeath Dialogue
by Roberta Ayers Carson

This is dedicated to Mark, wherever he may now be.

This story begins in January 1976 - with the ending of a young life. My step-son was killed in an accident involving his
1966 Mustang and a school bus.

The events that preceded and followed his death are chronicled here. There were ongoing premonitions of the event
before Marks death, and many conversations with Mark after his death.

Marks name and mine are the only accurate ones that you will find here. I have changed the remaining names, as this is
not intended to be a book involving any living persons other than Mark and myself.

Yes, Mark is living. Thats the message. Thats Marks word. I hope that those of you feeling the pain of loss find comfort
in Marks description of the other side.

THE END

and

THE BEGINNING

Around midnight, January 19, 1976:

Mark: Roberta...Roberta...

Roberta: Oh Mark, Im so mad at you.

M: Why?

R: Youre dead and Ill never be able to talk to you again.

M: But you are.

R: Oh my God! Mark, is that you?

M: How are you?

R: Are you kidding?! Im miserable! I cant believe this is happening!

My God, Mark is dead. Oh my God!

M: Im alright.

R: Oh my God! Why did you die? How could you do that? Im so mad at you! Youre so stupid! I told you to drive
carefully. But no, you always knew better: Im young and have better reflexes than you ever had...thats what makes me
a good driver...Im ready for anything. I could just kill you! Youre so stupid. Oh God, and now Ill never see you
again...Why do other kids get another chance but you dont? Just one mistake and now youre gone. Oh, what am I gonna
do?

M: Im okay. Im alright.

Thats how it began. Mark was killed in a car accident on the afternoon of January 19, 1976...the bicentennial year that
he never saw. Mark was 17, a senior in highschool. He was driving home from school around 3:15pm on a dreary day - a
day of snow mixed with rain. Cloudy. Cold. Wet. Messy. He stopped on the way out of the school parking lot to help a
friend get his car started. His friend - and Joyce, Marks girlfriend, were at the hospital that evening.

Joyce: Oh, Im so sorry about Mark. Oh, I feel so terrible.

Roberta: You have lots of good memories of him. You two were together for a long time.

J: Yes, but I dont know why we broke up. He just told me that he wanted me
to date his best friend. It didnt make any sense.

R: When was this?

J: Just a few weeks ago. He started saying that he wasnt going to graduate and he wanted me to date Tom. We had a
fight about it, but he meant it. I couldnt figure it out. Tom and I have always been friends. I think Mark knew he was
going to die! I think Im going to be sick.

R: Take it easy. Its alright. Just rest awhile.

J: But Mark is gone. Hell never graduate or do anything anymore.

R: Look at it this way, if theres life after death, then theres no problem, and if there isnt, then theres no problem.

J: Yeah, I guess youre right.

R: Tom, how are you?

Tom: Im okay. But its all my fault. Hed still be alive if he hadnt stopped to help me. My car! Theres always something
wrong with it. He stopped in the snow to help me...thats the way he was. He could have driven on...I could have fixed it
myself. Then he wouldnt have had the accident. The bus would have been gone...and hed still be alive! Oh, I did it, its
all my fault.

R: Tom, youre one of the luckiest people here. Its not your fault. It was the most wonderful gift he could have given
you. Youre the last person he did a favor for, the last person he was kind to. Thats something for you to remember.
Thats special.

(crying, crying, and more crying)

The need for completion is very strong. I suppose not seeing Mars body left a lot of things undone in my mind. That night
at the hospital, a nurse came in and rustled us into a room and closed the door. She offered no explanation except that
It will be just a minute.

I didnt know what she was talking about. My husband Jim said that they are probably moving the body - that Mark had
to go to the county hospital because the accident happened on a county road. All of a sudden it rushed in on me...moving
his b-o-d-y!! I tore open the door and ran down the hall.

They were rounding the corner with beautiful Mark laying quietly on the stretcher. He was covered with a sheet - mostly.
His tennis shoes were easily identifiable...but I wasnt prepared for the emotion connected to recognizing the right arm
of his jacket hanging out from under the sheet. I stood in the hallway frozen. I never saw him again.

I wish I had.

I guess I heard that a lot those first few days...I cant believe hes dead... We didnt help any by choosing to have a
closed casket. For some reason, the whole thing was never really final. I never saw his body. I guess he was in the
casket, but Ill always wonder what he looked like.

(Markss classmates)

CM: Do you really think hes in there? I dont know. Why didnt they open it?

Roberta: Pardon me. I overheard you comment and...

CM: Oh, Im sorry. I didnt mean anything by it. Im so sorry.

R: Thats okay. I feel the same way.

CM: Was he really messed up? Is that why its closed - why cant we see him?

R: No, no. Hes not hurt or anything. Its just that his dad wanted everyone to remember Mark the way he was.

CM: Oh...I guess...but I cant believe hes dead.

R: Me either.

(more crying, and more crying.)

You know, I wonder if the crying ever stops. To this day, when I re-live this, I cry. Im crying now. Its difficult to lose a
son...or a step-son. Its not supposed to happen. Kids are not supposed to die before their parents.

R: I hate this! I hate this!!! Kids arent supposed to die before their parents. Thats not the right way! Its not supposed
to happen that way!

Mark: It was an accident.

R: What do you mean it was an accident? Mark, doesnt God control everything You know, His will - His providence?

M: It was an accident. Things just happen.

R: You mean they just happen? Its just happening? Theres no plan?

M: Its just happening...whatever happens is the plan.

R: No, no, no! I need to appeal to a higher court or something. This isnt supposed to happen. Isnt there someplace I can
go to roll back time so we can do it again...so this doesnt happen? Oh Mark! Mark! What was it like when you died?
Please tell ;me. I have to know. Dont lie to me. I want to know if it hurt.
M: It didnt hurt. I was driving down the street. There was music on the radio. Jane was in the front seat. We were all
talking. I looked away for a second and when I looked up, all I saw was a wall. I didnt even know what it was. I was
surprised. I dont remember thinking anything. It only lasted a second. Then it was totally dark. And totally quiet. It was
really dark...you really couldnt see your hand in front of you. I was wondering if I had my eyes open. I didnt feel
anything. Then I heard a voice. It said, Well, are you ready? I had no idea what it meant...but it sounded nice. I wasnt
afraid. I said, Yeah, I guess so. And then things started moving. It was still totally dark - black totally, but moving. I
could feel the sensation of moving very fast through a black tunnel...and then...........

(Wow! I was experiencing everything Mark was saying. The light was like none other I had ever seen. And it burst
open. There was a hint of it for just a second, and then it just burst open! Incredible! The brightest thing you ever
saw...and sound -not music - but sound - not the sound of an explosion, but the sound of explosion. And then it
softened.)

R: Oh Mark! That was wonderful. You didnt feel anything at all!

M: No, nothing at all. Hows everybody else? Theyre hurt, arent they?

R: Yes, but theyre mostly upset about you.

M: But Im okay

R: I know that - and you know that - but they dont know that...and sometimes I dont know that too.

M: Youll be alright.

R: But I cant touch you, and I cant see you.

M: Its different, but we can still talk.

R: But its not the same.

We discussed that often...not being able to be seen, to be heard, according to the normal definition of hearing. Mark
clarified things for me one night, many weeks later...

M: (laughter)

R: Mark?

M: Yeah.

R: Get out of here! Dont you ever do this again! Get out of here!

M: I cant see anything!

R: What do you mean? You were laughing. Your dad and I are making love and youre laughing!

M: (laughing) Its not what you think. Im feeling what youre feeling.

R: What!?

M: I mean that when I talk to you, were thinking together...or maybe feeling together. I was having fun.

R: No! Im having fun. Go away!

M: Okay. (laughter)

The next night Mark and I talked about that experience. I asked him to go over it one more time:

M: I can find you. Not your thoughts but you and then I experience what you are experiencing. Thats how I talk to you.

R: But Im hearing words...or thinking?? Words??

M: Youre actually getting my thought or ideas - mostly pictures.

R: Boy, thats true.

M: Go back to when I died.

I experienced it again.

M: See? You see it or experience it but you never moved from where you were. But you experienced it just like it
happened to me.

R: Now I dont understand. What did you mean when you said that you couldnt see anything last night?

M: You know, Im not standing in the bedroom! Im not outside of anything. Im not watching anything. Its more like
Im experiencing the experience. The only time I saw anything was when you thought of me watching you and what you
thought Id see. That was pretty funny.

R: Thats not very comforting! So we can be walking around naked and you
cant see us.
M: Thats right, but I can see your thoughts, your feelings...I can know your
feelings.

R: Anytime?

M: No, I have to find you. I have to focus on you...imagine you, and then Im there.

R: Thats what I do when we talk! I just think about you and youre there.

M: Thats right. Youve been doing it but you didnt know it. Thats how I knew to come to you. You wanted to talk to me.

R: Oh my God! This is incredible!

I found out a lot of incredible things. Havent you always wanted to know what heaven was like? Dont you have a lot
of questions youd like to ask? Just for fun, take a few minutes and write down all the questions youd ask about the
afterlife if you had the chance. Go ahead. Really do it. Write out the entire question in long hand. Ill wait for you, and
then well do an experiment. Dont cheat...go write your questions.

Now take your questions, and see how many of them I asked. You may need to re-read some of the book, because
sometimes I didnt ask Mark my questions directly...he just gave me the answers.

M: What do you want to know?

R: Everything.

M: Come on. What do you want to know?

R: Whats it like?

M: What do you mean?

R: Whats it like up there?

M: Up there? You mean here?

R: Yes. Heaven.

M: There is no heaven. Its just here.

R: I dont understand.

(Flood of pictures...experiences:

light.....music --- I mean light that makes music ---I mean theres sound but its coming from the light thats everywhere.
There arent notes or a tune...just tone...Its like a background to everything...Everywhere I look I see figures that sort of
fade in and out. When I focus or concentrate, then the images are clearer...and become distinct...three dimensional.
People are walking around - talking to each other. Others are moving - and are alone Everyone is dressed in clothing of
light but theres so much light all around...)

M: Got it?

R: I think so. What do you do all day?

M: There isnt a day.

R: What do you mean?

M: There isnt a day. Theres no day and night...we just are...its just happening...we dont count things and mark things
off.

R: I guess thats what we do, isnt it? We mark the number of times the earth turns.

M: Right, but thats not whats happening. (stillness existence no timestillness in motion)

R: I got it!

M: I know. Want to go on?

R: You bet.

(Theyre studying. There are groups of people speaking and discussing and studying. They are learning from each other.
They are sharing experience...literally. They are feeling the feeling. One is remembering and the others are experiencing
and learning something)

M: You got it!

R: Whats going on?

M: You thought it was over, didnt you?

R: Yes, I did. I guess it was all that Catholic training...... judgment and eternal heaven or hell and all that.

M: Its nothing like that.

R: I can tell. Wasnt there any judgment? (awareness...of choices...life review...see all the decisions...see the
thoughts...where you were at the time mentally, emotionally...it was like watching a tree grow...branches...each decision
led to another through the experience itself and all that went before. Each decision...not right or wrong...just look and
see what was happening...what was really happening...what were you experiencing, feeling? What was really happening?
Who, what, how, were you? How are you now? Would you like to change? No pressure, just the suggestion of the
question.)

R: How beautiful!

M: Easy. Real easy.

R: Very easy. Its not like The Judgment at all. Theres no one reading all the events.

M: No, just you and another looking at what went on.

R: Who is with you?

M: Just another person...someone whos been here a long time. Hes a lot higher than I am. He understands a lot more.
He said I didnt have to learn anymore or change anything if I didnt want to.

R: Do you want to?

M: I dont know yet. I dont have to decide either.

R: Oh, I guess that makes sense.

(acceptance...total, unconditional acceptance...from everyone, including yourself)

R: Mark, Ive never felt like this before.

M: I know. You judge a lot. Theres nothing wrong with that. You just do.

R: But this acceptance thing...I can feel things dropping off...its like chains dropping off my shoulders and arms. I feel
very light.

M: Yeah. Thats what it feels like.

Mark told me so much in those first few months. It was such a very special time - though I didnt know it. It seemed so
natural. I just never questioned it. Then, one night, I asked Mark if he could help his father...

R: You know your did is taking this very hard.

M: Yeah. He doesnt talk to me.

R: Hes very quiet about everything. He wont discuss how he feels. He hasnt even really cried that I know of. Is there
anything you can do for him? Can you come back and talk to him...maybe disguise yourself and visit him in his office...like
in the movies...and he doesnt know its you til you leave.

M: He wouldnt want that. It wouldnt do any good.

R: What do you mean? Hed love to see you again.

M: No he wouldnt.

R: Oh Mark, I think youre wrong.

Well, wouldnt you know, Mark was right. I spoke with Jim the next day and told him about my proposal to Mark and Jim
said I wouldnt want that. I was shocked! Mark was right. Mark knew.

But I still didnt understand why. Jim explained that he had already given up his son, and he couldnt say goodbye to him
again.

Ohhh.... the silence I had felt from Jim was not indifference, nor pain. It was an ice pack, deliberately constructed to
eliminate all feeling, and avoid human touch. He was terribly hurt - and hurting - and I had misunderstood. But Mark
knew!

R: How did you know?

M: I felt him...what he was feeling, so I knew he didnt want me to come back.

R: But Jim said it was alright for me to talk to you.

M: Yes, but he doesnt want to talk to you about it.

R: Right. Hell listen, but he wont talk.

M: Yes. He wants to hear, but he doesnt want to feel.

R: What should I do?

M: Anything.
***********************

That was a typical comment.

I just couldnt get any real advice from Mark. He made sure I knew at all times that all decisions were mine. I could stop
the conversation just by turning my attention away.

In the beginning, those first few days after Mark was killed, my attention was completely on him and the other children
who were in the car. His sister Jane had a compound fracture of the leg, and glass was imbedded in her face from the
windshield. Gene, the boy in the back seat, had a chipped vertebrae - chipped on the front of the vertebrae, by the larynx.
He went through excruciating pain with the halo head brace and surgery. Amy, the girl who was in the back seat, had
gone between the two bucket seats in the front, through the windshield, and back in the broken windshield only to
eventually land on the stick shift. She lost a lot of front teeth, and required extensive stitches and surgery.

It was very touching, that very first day. Those children in such terrible pain themselves, bursting into tears when we
entered the room - expressing their sympathy at our loss of Mark. They were alive, but were in terrible shape. The
injuries were awful.

June was delirious the night of January 19. She was lying on an examination table in the hospital with her leg elevated -
the compound fracture was a sight to behold...and so was her glass riddled face.

I sat with her for a while...she kept asking about Mark and Id tell her he was in the other room...I didnt tell her he was
dead...then shed ask about her earrings. We had given her pierced earrings for Christmas. They were very tiny, just a
small oval with hand painted pink flowers. The oval that hung from the stud was about a quarter of an inch long.

I kept telling her that the earrings were okay. The fact of the matter was, they werent okay. One was still in her ear. I
removed it. The other had been torn out and was gone.

In the back of my mind, I determined to buy her a new pair - shed never know the difference, but then I couldnt
remember where I had bought them.

Roberta: Mark, Jane wants her earrings. Its so terrible. Shes such a mess. Oh God,
Its so awful.

Mark: Ill help you find the earring. Its in the car.

R: What car?

M: My car.

R: Where?

M: Ill show you.

Too many things were happening then. We were arranging for the funeral, and calling relatives, etc., so the trip to the car
didnt happen right away. However, the next week, I woke up early.

R: Mark, this is it. Lets go.

M: Okay.

R: I dont want to fool around. This isnt going to be easy. Wheres the car?

M Its in a wreckage lot. You know, where they smash cars and sell spare parts.

R: Where?

M: Call the police.

So I called the police and asked where they towed the car. They gave me the address and general directions. Mark and I
started driving.

R: I dont know where Im going.

M: Turn left.

I turned left...he told me where to get off the highway and where to turn...and we were there.
When I arrived, I signed in and asked to see Marks car. The guys at the lot looked at each other. None of them wanted to
take me to see it. Then one man said to another---You show her...

So we walked outside.

It was another dreary day, cloudy and cold. It was late in the afternoon...and what happened changed my life.

There was a large van on the right blocking my view of the car as we walked down the wreckage aisle. The guy was
nervous and walked more and more slowly...and finally he asked me if I really wanted to do this. I replied yes, but that
he didnt have to go with me. He wanted assurances that I would be okay. Naively, I said Id be okay. I was right...but I
was also wrong. Id be forever changed.

He turned and walked back to the garage, saying over his shoulder: Its just past that big van, lady. On the right. And
he disappeared into thin air.

The wind blew cold as I stood alone in the aisle. I still couldnt see the car...but I knew I would soon. I wanted to find
Janes earring.
R: Mark, this isnt going to be easy. Lets do this and get out of here.

There it was. It was incredible. The front of the Mustang was pushed back to the front seat. The windshield was out.
The doors were displaced. The tires were twisted. There was glass on the dashboard.

The car was as wrecked as my life.

The starch went out of me. The pain rose to the surface and I groaned along with the kids in the car. There was no way
to avoid feeling it. The pain was intense.

l approached the car slowly, as if it were pulling me toward it. It was facing me. Where do I begin?

I opened the drivers door. I got in. I wanted to get closer to him...to find out what it felt like.
His sun glasses were wrapped around the windshield wiper. There were teeth on the floor of the car. There was blood
on the dashboard... and on the stick shift...and between the bucket seats...and on the seats... and there was
homework, and books, and pencils, and a notebook with assignments - waiting for someone. The wind blew through
the space where the windows used to be. And then l touched the steering wheel.

Mark had been wrapped around it. it was now folded down toward the drive shaft. And there it was - the Mustang..
the insignia...the circle of steel that hit Mark's heart...it was ended so fast! I cried.

R: Mark, come on. I want to get out of here. I'm going to go through this car once. This is
terrible.

I looked around in the debris. No earring. 1 got out, and climbed into the back seat behind the driver. I got another
surprise.

Not only was Mark impaled on the steering wheel shaft, but he was also shoved into it from the back. Gene was
thrown forward so violently that his arm went through the back of Mark's seat. He had apparently tried to brace
himself on the back of Mark's chair. The 1966 Mustangs didn't have all the safety features that are standard today. l
doubt that the seats even locked in position since it was a two door car. When the impact occurred, Mark was thrown
forward and then also crushed from behind.

It happened...and it happened fast.

Nothing in the back seat but more indescribably touching remembrances of a school day, and death...

I got out, walked around the car, and sat where Jane was sitting. Again, nothing but my own tears. Her car door was
stuck - as though it were rusty. Actually it wasn't clearing the fender very well anymore. I had to push hard to get
the door to open from the inside.

I stood there looking down into the front seat through the empty wind-shield. I was desperate. Jane wanted the
earring. She needed the earring.

R: Mark! This is it! I'm going to do this one more time and then I'm leaving.
I have to find it now!

(silence)

I did the entire rotation again. I ran my hand all along the floor. I told myself that I would not get cut on any of the
glass. I absolutely refused to be injured. I would not allow that to happen. 1 wouldn't be able to take physical pain on
top of all the emotional pain l was already feeling. Apparently, my demand worked. I wasn't cut.

I sifted through the glass and the teeth and the blood and the books... and rotated around all the seats.

Still no earring.

I pushed my way out of Jane's side of the car again - and I was mad. I yelled "God damn it, Mark!" as I slammed the car
door shut with all my might.
I was struck silent. And frozen to the spot.

A pencil stood straight up on its eraser when I slammed the car door. It was standing where the windshield wiper
used to be... with the eraser stuck under the hood. Instinctively I knew to look where it was pointing. Look where
the pencil is.... in the tiny area at the base of the would-be windshield, lay the earring. It was laying flat, on the ledge,
about to fall into the guts of that pitiful machine.

What do I do? I can't pick it up. My fingers won't fit in there. I've only got one chance. No mistakes.

1 licked my index finger, pressed it mightily against the pretty pink flowers on the oval earring, and withdrew the
prize easily.

1 cried and laughed and said thank you a thousand times. Gratitude. Relief. Elation.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.... I was two feet off the ground when I left the lot.
I'm certain the attendants thought the situation strange...they knew who I was. And I'm certain they saw me leave -
grinning, laughing, happy. How could they possibly know the miracle that had occurred. 1 found one quarter inch of
heaven in the middle of hell...and grabbed it and ran!
I drove home on auto-pilot. Mark guided my way - but still said nothing.

R: Mark, thank you for finding that earring.

M: I did it for Jane. I used you because you were ready. You're the only one who's ready
for me!

R: I'm not really sure I'm ready for you at all. I don't even have my "normal everyday" life
together.
M: All that stuff doesn't mean anything. The real issues are attitude - approach - feelings - considerations - the way
you do things - the undercurrent.

R: When we talk, everything is calm and simple and logical. You make me feel like
there's a reason for everything.

M: Life is a continuum. There's no difference between life and life after death. You're just in a different place doing
things a different way. That's all. My life hasn't stopped. It's just changed. For instance, I've already seen Elmer.

(a relative who died some months before. I got impressions of seeing him from afar. Elmer was in a different
"division.")

R: Do you like what you're doing?

M: Yeah. Here, try this:

(I'm lost in amazement...in awe of the mysteries that we are unaware of. We can't see what is all around us -all over,
if we could only see!)

M: You have to believe and be willing to "go along." I can't communicate with you when you
want proof. Even proof won't prove. Belief in proof is always a choice.

R: Mark, can you come back?

M: Yes, that's one of my options.

R: Have you decided what you're going to do yet?

M: No, but I'm thinking about it.

Naturally, I immediately assumed that Mark was going to come back, and so I became very interested in pregnant
women. I assumed that Mark was in there someplace.

M: It doesn't work like that.

R: What do you mean?

M: I mean that I don't have to become a baby some time after January 19, 1976. I can come
back before then.

(confusion on my part)

M: Let me see if I can show you...

I got some strange pictures or impressions, but I couldn't get any clear idea of what Mark was saying. I got the
impression of vastness, a wholeness that had no parts and a lot of noise and nothing but quiet. l never did get the idea.
I got very confused and so had Mark stop.

M: Anyway, try to focus on my happiness - I'm not really gone, you know. I'm
everywhere.

R: I don't understand.

M: It's not important. You don't have to put limits on things.

(sense of wonder...pleased and excited.)

M: Don't be surprised at anything! What you call miracles happen all the time. You're
encased in them but you can't see it. It's amazing to me that you can't see it.

R: Thanks a bunch. So help me see it!

M: You need to be quiet. Just quiet things down.

R: I can't yet. I can't cope with everything that's happening.

I have to keep busy just to keep myself from thinking.

M: Go along with your feelings and inclinations...but don't be afraid to pursue a thought.
I feel sorry for you. You have to follow things, like "a" to "b" to "c" or from one to two. You can't see everything.
Remember, it's all around you. It's glorious.

It hasn't been "glorious ever after," and it didn't seem glorious before January, 1976, either. I had been having
nightmares for months and months. I was waking crying and screaming. I was seeing an accident. And someone was
killed. And I was hysterical. And l cried and cried. Jim thought I was losing my mind. He suggested I see a
professional.

My diagnosis was that there was too much pressure.. raising my two year old daughter, working, taking care of the
house, etc. But that wasnt it.

lt was the events to come casting their shadow ahead of them. It was Mark's accident and death that I saw that 1 lived in
my dreams over and over again before it happened.

That day, when Mark died, 1 was teaching a data processing class to personnel from Roosevelt Federal Savings and
Loan. We were really pushing to get through the material.
I was about to call a break when I noticed that it had begun to snow. It was 3:25 PM. 1 walked to the window - and got
"spacey". When I got myself back together, I suggested that we shorten the break and get done early so everyone
could get home before the rush. I dismissed class at 4:15.

But I didn't go home. l was staying for something. I sat at my desk and put innocent items away. ..and waited.
The phone rang at 5:05. it was my husband. Jim.

Jim: There's been an accident. Mark is dead.

R: I know.

J: Jane was with him. She's in the hospital, but she'll be ok.

R: Where are you? I'll be right there. It's snowing, so it might take a while.

When I hung up, it hit me. I knew ahead of time...literally. I don't want to know ahead of time. I murmured that
phrase again and again...and then began screaming it.... "I don't want to know ahead of time. Mark is dead, Mark is
dead."

My boss, John, was in his office two doors away from me. I was lost. I was wandering. I went into his office and
delivered my message. "I don't want to know ahead of time. Mark is dead."

Somehow I got to my car that night. I wanted to drive alone, even though John didn't think it wise. I wanted to drive
alone because I wanted to scream and cry at my leisure... which I did.

It was 20 miles in the snow to the hospital... with stop/go lights all the way. l was rocking back and forth in the seat,
holding on to the steering wheel. Mark was with me even then....

R: Mark, what the hell were you doing!? I can't believe this is happening! What happened to you? Are you all smashed
up?

(awareness of my heart, a sudden drop in pressure, blackness.)

Why did I know this was going to happen? I don't want to know. Oh God, it hurts to know ahead of time.

When I got to the hospital, a cop was speaking with Jim. He was cruel. He was assigning blame. He was cruel. He was
waving a clipboard. On it was the long form he had filled out at the scene of the accident. He was explaining that the road
conditions were bad and Mark was driving too fast, not over the speed limit, but obviously too fast to drive safely. And
there were no skid marks on the pavement...but the pavement was wet...and there were people around...but no one
saw the brake lights go on. He must have been driving too fast...kids...just driving too fast.

Like I said, he was cruel.

I asked Jim what happened to Mark.

Before he could answer, the cop replied that Mark's neck was broken. I stared him right in the eye:

R: That's not right! It was his heart!

"Cop: No ma'am. His neck was broken."

No sense in arguing over a dead kid who was driving too fast, I suppose.... I was angry and sarcastic.

As it turns out, I was also right, but it took a few days to prove it.

I told Jim that I wanted to find Mark's clothes. He said that he told the funeral home to get rid of them. I wanted to see
the damage on the clothes. I wanted to touch everything I could. 1 asked Mark - he told me that the clothes were in a
box at the funeral home, so I headed there.

One of those eternally kind men employed by funeral homes met me at the door. I wanted to relax in his arms. I was so
tired of holding myself together.

He went downstairs and retrieved the box...tennis shoes, socks, a Levis shirt, and jeans... very little blood on the
lower leg of the jeans... very little on his shirt. Mark was right. It was over very fast. Confirmation.

I asked about Mark's ring, since it wasn't in the box. The kind gentleman told me that it was probably removed at the
hospital. His experience was that folks had very little luck getting personal possessions back.

When I went back to my car, I asked Mark if his ring was there. He said yes, I could get it today if I wanted to, but I'd
have to say that I was his mother.

In this case, I didn't mind phrasing things in such a manner as to allow an incorrect conclusion especially when there
would be no harm done. I was going to give his mom the clothes anyway.

So I went to various offices at county hospital until I got his "DOA" bag by signing my name followed by "relationship:
mother". I put the "step-" in front of "mother" with light pressure from my fingernail. No one could see it but me.
Mark laughed about my conflict in signing the fake relationship.

The envelope contained all that he had "on his person" when they brought him in that night. An almost empty pack of
Kool light cigarettes, a change purse from Roosevelt Federal, a parking receipt, a ticket stub from a movie, a black
comb and the senior ring they had cut off his finger. Clutching the DOA bag, I went to the coroner's office --- I mean
right up to the office where he works, if you know what I mean. I walked around by myself - no one around. It was
clean. and white...and tidy...and I couldn't imagine Mark laying on this table with all these people gathered
around while they cut and examined and determined and recorded.. .I couldn't see it happening. That's because it
didn't happen. A nurse stumbled across me with great surprise. When I identified myself as a distraught mother
gathering what was left of a 17 year old boy, she was understanding and helpful. We sat down and she got the
records. They weren't official yet - too early for a death certificate. But the doctor had described the cause of death.
She couldn't give me a copy, but she translated what it said. It was his heart. It was disconnected by the blow.. .the
steering wheel. They didn't do a full autopsy. They didn't need to ..he hadn't been drinking. He was just a kid coming
home from school with three other teenagers in the car.

She helped heal me that day. She told me, with the news of how he died, that this really was happening. Mark was
talking to me. Mark was telling me things that only he could know at the time. Just hours after he died, he told me
what killed him by letting me feel what happened to his heart.

Roberta: Mark, this whole experience is amazing. It's wonderful.

Mark: You'd better write it down.

R: Why? I'll never forget this.

M: That's not the point. You'll have problems later - you'll think you were making it up,
but now you know. It's not faith or hope anymore.

R: I feel like I want to tell everyone who's lost someone. I want to help people understand
death.

M: Keep going. Don't stop. But there's a lot of people who won't understand. It's important
for you to keep believing. Someday, your faith in yourself and your story will be tested.

So I took notes, and recorded all the conclusions and observations, until...

R: Hi Mark. I can tell you're here now even before you speak.

M: I have to talk to you. I've made up my mind. I've decided to go on to another place.

R: What other place?

M: I'm not coming back to where you are. I'm going somewhere else.

(Suddenly, I'm traveling light-years in a second - out to the far reaches of the universe. It's a completely different
place. It's purple. and what Mark will learn there is very specific. He's signed up for a specific course. Hell have
to make it on his own... learn everything again as though he never knew it. But there's a goal, an objective. Its a
single thing he's signed up to learn and the best place to learn it is here, in this far corner of the universe.)

R: When are you leaving?

M: Not for a while yet. That's why I'm here. I want you to think of all the questions you
want answered. I won't be back for a while.

R: Do I have to think of them now?

M: No, no rush.

sometime later

R: You're here, aren't you?

M: Yeah. Got any questions?

R: Is God up there?

M: That's interesting. I haven't even thought about "God. I haven't looked for him.

(God is everywhere. He's the baseline. There's background and foreground and ground. He's ground. He can't be
"found." There's no place to look.)

M: God in your frame of reference is unimportant. We're not "singing his praises for all
eternity." We just are for all eternity.

R: Are there kids there?

M: Yeah, but they're not really kids. They're just "people. Just 'us." (When children die, they transform into what
they really were all along. 1 saw this as an optical illusion, where I saw a child one second and an adult another, and
then an aged spirit simultaneously.)

R: Are there lots of people there? Where are you, anyway?

M: There's lots of people here, but when it's quiet, no one is here...and it's everywhere.

(...empty space which fills in with images whenever attention is directed somehow.. not clear, but had strong
impression that it was right here where I was. Like it was all around me...and I am part of it too.)

Then it happened. The real good-bye. I suppose I was ready for it. It was very simple. Very quiet. Very natural.

I was driving on a sunny spring day. The air was light and warm. A really perfect day. Then I was aware that Mark was
with me.

M: Do you have any more questions?

R: No, not really. But what if I need to reach you after you leave?

M: You can't reach me directly. But I have a friend.

(relay information - like a contact at another level who can pass the message on. Has something to do with
interference patterns. Saw images scrambled. Needed this person in between to understand and transmit the
picture on.)

R: How do I reach him?

M: When you need him, he'll be there.

R: Ok. Good luck. I hope you get what you're looking for.

M: Would you do me a favor?

R: Sure. Anything.

M: Would you drive by the park? I'd like to see the trees.

I drove along a very scenic drive, that went through the middle of the city park. I seemed to be the only one on the
road. Everything became quiet, even the sound of my car faded.

As a looked out the window at the trees, the scene began to change. 1 saw light. The light was streaming out in
all directions from the leaves, the branches...and the grass. The colors were like none Ive ever seen. The trees
were transparent and fading into the light. The sound was glorious...coming from the light....

And then it was done. The car noise came back and the trees became three dimensional figures again...and the
music stopped...and I knew Mark was gone.

I wished him well - and let him go.

I still feel close to Mark when Im outside on a clear night. 1 don't know if Mark is in this reality. Perhaps the
"planet" he's on isn't in this frame of reference ... I can't tell. But I did get the impression that there are lots of
"training locations" all over. The one Mark chose was just one of millions. From that perspective, I suppose we're
experiencing just one of millions, too.

Did Mark come back? No. not yet. But I was contacted by his friend. He heard me cry out. And told me to write the book.
So I did.

MARK, MY WORDS by Roberta Ayers Carson

1988 Roberta Ayers Carson. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized reproduction in any form prohibited.

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