Friday, May 15, 2009

on ADC's, for Silver

my dinner table last night

Several of my readers are widows. Some have been widowed as long, or longer, than me. Others are fairly new, and my heart goes out to them. The first few years are definitely the worst, and while the days stretch long, the nights are longer!

At any rate, Silver left this comment:

kate, do you believe or have personally experienced ADCs?

I had two experiences in the first year. Dale passed away in our own bed, at the duplex we'd been living in for six years prior to his death, on October 2, 2002. I sat with his body for almost three hours, but this part is kind of fuzzy. I know he passed at 9:08 am, and I know the funeral home came just after noon, but don't really recall the time.

It was very difficult to let him go. You have to understand how co-dependent we were during our marriage, even though we suffered through his alcoholism together at the end. Prior to his chronic use, we were one of those couples that went everywhere together, attached at the hip. We weren't afraid to show affection in public and were often told to "get a room". I constantly told him that my love for him would transcend time and space and that if he could only see past the addiction, we would live a great life. Unfortunately, he wasn't meant to survive.

The ADC's (after death communications) happened in 2003.

In the first one, Dale came to me in a dream just three months after he died. This was different than any dream I'd had before (or since) because it was in complete colour and I remember the details quite clearly.

We were visiting friends at a lake, and were sitting in a cabin after finishing a meal. I was sitting in the kitchen chatting up the women, while he sat in the living room with the men. I'd glance over to him from time to time, and he would wink at me.

The wink was important because he always did this at social functions, as a way to say "I love you" without words.

Near the end he stood up and started shaking hands with people, and I started to gather up whatever stuff I had on the kitchen table. Then I grabbed my purse from beneath the table and started to stand as he made his way over.

"I have to go now," he said, placing his hand on the small of my back.

"I'm ready."

"I'm sorry Honey. I have to go alone."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, I'm sorry. You have to stay here."

"I want to come with you - "

An argument ensued, and out of embarrassment we took it outside. After a few minutes, he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down onto the front steps of the cabin. He kissed my forehead, then turned and walked down the path by himself. I cried until I woke, then cried some more. For the next few years, he would visit me in my dreams but he never spoke to me or looked into my eyes directly.

The second time was seven months later, only this time I was wide awake and inside an import store. The woman that was helping me took me to the cash desk and asked, "when did your husband decide to go home?"

"He didn't," I replied, "he passed away, last October."

"I know, I'm so sorry. Please don't freak out, but he's been nudging me this whole time. He wants me to tell you that he's okay. He's already had his celebration, but he's..."


"With his loved ones. He says he can see you, and that you're not doing well."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "It's hard."

"He wants you to know that everything will be alright."

Shortly after that, the import store closed. She didn't try to solicit a thing from me, and I never saw her again. As for ADC's, I believe there is a period of time after someone dies, where they are in limbo. It's like they float between realms and they can do things they wouldn't normally be able to do.

I had one other incident on the morning of the first anniversary - he left me a message, and sent me a song, on October 2, 2003. Other than that, I haven't noticed anything.

I think that he has moved on, too.


  1. Wow you hear about those moments but it never becomes less amazing.

  2. This type of thing gives me goosebumps! I don't have a personal experience with this, but a woman I know who lost her husband last year shared her experience with me.

    She was very distraught, worried that her husband was still somehow suffering (he had cancer) even though his life had come to an end. One day, preoccupied with those thoughts as she was visiting -- of all places -- the dump, a disheveled-looking man carrying two roses walked up to her and wordlessly handed her the flowers. He drove away in a beat up old car, and she never saw him again, but believes that gesture was her answer. Feeling sure that her husband was at peace, now she feels less anxious.

  3. That was an amazing post Kate - very kind of you to share it with us. I don't know what to say - it certainly broadens the mind

  4. This post is both poignant as well as hopeful. Poignant because you obviously shared a great love with your husband; hopeful because you have been able to move and on and rebuild your life.

    I have had many messages given to me from my paternal grandmother who died when I was about 3. I don't remember her but I have been told on a number of different occasions that she is watching over me. I think Dale is still there, watching too.

    Fascinating. Great post!

  5. About 15 or so years ago I knew a woman with whom I had worked with. She had lost her child to an illness and for sometime afterward she was unable to function because of her despair. She shared a story with me that made me shiver to the bone. She had had a dream in which she was standing on a grassy hill and could see a long line of children coming down the path holding lit candles. She spotted her child ...holding the only unlit candle. She rushed to him and asked why his candle wasnt lit. His reply ..."Your tears keep putting out my candle mommy". She never cried for her loss again instead held his memory close to her heart.

  6. "With his loved ones. He says he can see you, and that you're not doing well."

    Tears welled up in my eyes. "It's hard."

    "He wants you to know that everything will be alright."

    i am stealing a few minutes from work (in office now) right now to read this- i am trying very hard not to cry right now.
    i was very touched by the comment by cathy as well.. maybe i should try harder..

    thks, Kate. huggss.

  7. I just want to say hi, I have had an ADC a few times after my dad passed in 2001. They diminish with time, but I think there will be more to come.
    Great blog, smiles to you from Mrs. Slug in Oregon

  8. Hi Kate

    M a follower of Silver and i think its great u wrote this for her. She has been searching and been trying very hard to see any sign from Ben and cannot understand why...u can almost hear her silently crying out to Ben to show some sign....

    Keeping writing and I am glad that you move on too...

    Silver have faith