Excerpts

I Love You Dad

Introduction	
Requiem	
Thank you	
Dad isn’t Old Anymore	
Hanging Out in “Heaven”	
Life Review	
New Arrrivals	
A New Relationship	
Hell and Purgatory	
Where is Heaven?	
Dad Prepares for an Adventure	
Dad to the Rescue	
Heaven and Earth and Marty Schottenheimer	
Father and Son and Family	
Early Childhood Trauma – Dad Explains Himself	
“What’s it like to die?”	
Dad Sees Through my Eyes	
Like a Child	
Guru	
‘All Actions are Motivated by Love’	
Guardian Angel	
Incarnation	
Reincarnating Back on Earth	
Every Human Being is a Master	
The Circle of Life –– Becoming a Baby Once More	
The Vortex	
Heavenly Advice	
The Power of Consciousness	
A New Life

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Introduction

I had no idea I was about to write this book. I thought I was through with my channeling activities, until my father’s death hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been prepared for his passing for a couple of years, but as anyone who has been through the death of a parent will tell you, it simply isn’t possible to prepare yourself for the actuality of it.

One day I went out for a walk, trying to overcome my grief, and he was just there.

This book wrote itself. It was actually written by my dad, and I know he gets a great kick out of that. He has a message for all of the readers:

“You are an eternal spirit, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. There is no reason to fear death. So live! Have fun! Make all your dreams come true, for the end of life always has a happy ending.”

Thanks, dad.

Kenneth James Michael MacLean

Ann Arbor, Michigan

December 2005

Note: This book was originally posted in an internet forum. I have kept that format in order to preserve the spirit in which it was written.

By the way, my dad wants to let you know that he chose the cover for this book.

Requiem

Last night my father died.

Kenneth James MacLean Sr. was born in 1926, in a spiritual dark age between the two world wars, and just before the Great Depression. He was raised in the Catholic church, which taught him that his soul was irrevocably tainted before he took his first breath. He was placed in military school for two years, where he learned to hate those who disagreed with him. During his 30 years on the Detroit Police force, these ideas were reinforced. He was sometimes an insensitive and bigoted person. He did not come to my wedding because my wife and I were not married in the Catholic church.

Underneath his gruff exterior, however, was a kind and gentle being who had been taught that the only way a man could truly be a man was to be a tough guy. He often had a kind word for the woman at the checkout counter, the gas station mechanic, or the receptionist at the doctor's office, and he taught me how to do the same. He always taught me to be true to my ideals, and to never back down from them. Because our worldviews were diametrically opposed, however, we did not speak to each other for almost 20 years.

Fortunately, in 1991, we reconciled. I flew out twice to San Diego from my home in Ann Arbor Michigan and we worked it out.

My father had no idea of the true nature of Spirit. He believed that if he did not follow the teachings of the Catholic church word for word, he would go to hell. He tried many times over the next 14 years to redirect my path back to the church.

I tried to tell him over and over that hell did not exist, then when you leave the body you always go to heaven. His response was, "Well, what's the point of being good then?" I would always say, "because being good feels better." But he couldn't see that.

During the past year I expected to get a phone call from my stepmother at any time, telling me that he had gone. Two weeks ago on the phone (we always talked on Saturday's at 1:30) he said, "Kenny, I'm ready to go, so don't be surprised." We often talked about the best way to die: you're walking down the hall and you just keel over.

I had imagined having to fly out to California, and confronting a man who was terrified of death. I never really believed that a person imprisoned within the beliefs of organized religion could ever find peace. Yet I knew that he had been meditating every day for a year with his rosary.

I received the call from my step-mom last night. "Your father died two hours ago." It was apparent that he had done so quietly and easily. My step mom found him lying on the hallway floor, half in and out of the bathroom. Just as he had called it.

As I write this through my tears, I understand now that despite what you had been taught, dad, you found inner peace. When the true test came, the test of death, you passed with flying colors. You were a true spiritual warrior.

I will never call you again on Satuday's at 1:30, and that makes me cry. I will never hear your voice again, and that makes me cry. And most of all, I will never again hear you say, "You're my number one son," and that makes me cry too.

I'm so, so proud of you Dad. I love you. Thank you for being you, and showing me the way.

Your Number One Son,

Ken Jr.

Dad Isn't Old Anymore

Thanks to all who have written me about the death of my father. Your kind words and your healing thoughts are helping me to get through the grieving process.

Dad comes to me when I take my afternoon walk after work. It might seem strange to some to communicate with a dead person. But not to me. I feel him just as strongly as if he were alive and standing right in front of me. If I had any doubts about the spiritual nature of a human being, I don’t now.

On Monday I asked him why he was so mean to me when I was a child. He laughed and said, "You know son, you weren't always the son and I wasn't always the father. You didn't do any better than I did!" Dad means that in previous lifetimes our roles were reversed. He didn’t believe in past lives when he was alive, but I guess he does now. His snappy retort made me laugh, for it was Ken MacLean Sr. all the way. Let’s just say that Dad had a bit of a temper. It didn’t take much to get his Irish and Scottish blood boiling.

Yesterday I asked him what he was doing now that he was ‘dead.’ He laughed and said he was playing cards and drinking beer with departed family members. (My grandma used to have a cottage on Lake Huron and the grownups would do just that).

“But how can you be drinking beer?” I ask. “You’re dead!”

“I don’t know, son. But I am.” He tells me that he feels like a sailor home from a long sea journey. “I’m getting my land legs back. It’s going to take some time to adjust to where I am now.”

I am full of questions but he doesn’t want to talk. I can tell he’s really happy though. I told him he could drink all the beer he wanted now, and he laughed (for a good portion of his life, my dad was an alcoholic).

It was good to hear him laugh. His life was so hard and so sad in many ways, but he's released all that now.

And I have to find a way to release my sadness as well. If this keeps up, it won't be too long though. I'm going for my walk in a few minutes and if I hear from him, I'll let you know what he says tomorrow.

Date: Wed Oct 19, 2005

I can't explain it, but I can just feel him. I have to be in a good mood though, or else it doesn't happen. Today on my walk, I asked him what he was doing and he said, "catching up with family and friends." He told me just before he died that he was looking forward to seeing departed family members again, and especially his first wife (my mother) who died in 1954.

He doesn’t have a lot of time for me today, and basically brushed me off. I got a little angry. Then my mom came in and said "Don't be upset. For the first time in 80 years he's doing something he wants without feeling guilty." My mother died when I was 3, of cancer. She was only 29 years old, but I know it is Lorraine. She feels very warm and loving, but powerful. It’s amazing, but this is the first time in my life I remember being able to talk to my mom and dad at the same time.

The weirdest thing about these "visits" is that my dad doesn't FEEL old! With mom it’s different, because she was so young when she left us. But dad feels like a 25 year old. I'm saying to myself, 'It feels odd calling this guy dad. He feels like MY son.' I remember him as an old man, but of course, a spirit does not age, only bodies age. I know that, but it still feels strange.

Actually, it's a BIG comfort to be able to contact him. In three days I have been able to finish my grieving and understand that he is still alive, and he's in a really good place, a place he likes.

So it's really hard to be sad, because I'm grieving for the human expression of my father, which was, at the end of his life, just a shadow of the true being he is now.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow's walk.

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