Besides, I was really craving a cup of coffee so I walked to a local coffeehouse. It was a really cozy place with big fluffy couches and games, books, puzzles and really expensive coffee with no refills. I guess you were paying for the atmosphere. I started talking to a couple of young girls and we were discussing a piece of art on the wall. Actually I had painted it but they didn’t know that. It was called death of an infant and I told them it reminded me of when my brothers son “Will” died. He was only a few days old when he passed away. One of the girls I was talking to was probably fourteen years old, a freckle faced redhead with a pug nose, cute and mentally mature for her age. Her name was Angela. Her friend Jamie was also young blonde and attractive. Angelas eyes started to tear up when I was telling them about the death of my nephew. I thought that perhaps she was just a very compassionate person , but I had the feeling there was something more behind her tears. She finally opened up and told me that she had a baby brother that had died. She was left to watch her brother who at the time was about five years old. He went into the garage and thought he would do his father a favor. He got the garden hose and decided he would fill up the gas tank on his daddys motorcycle. He put the hose in the tank and turned on the water. When it started to overflow he was trying to get the hose out of the tank. The water carried the gasoline over to the hot water heater. When Angela opened the door to the garage her brother was screaming for help, running towards her in flames.
What can you say to a story like that? There was a very long silence. I told her that I was very sorry and that no words could convey what I was feeling. We talked about guilt and I tried to convince her that it wasn’t her fault and that she shouldn’t take it on. Horrible things happen and there is a lot more to these occurences than we will ever understand. She sounded like she was actually dealing with the whole situation pretty well, but she said her mother was taking it really hard. She still heard Jacob running around the house, and she wasn’t able to let go. I was thinking that possibly that was why he was still running around.
Sometimes it seems that when people aren’t willing to let go, the soul of the deceased isn’t free to go into the light. At that time in my life I thought I knew everything and I shared some rituals that she could do to help her mother, and to help release her brother into the light. The more I learn the less I know. Now I am not sure if that is really our realm to manipulate. Once you have been bitten in the ass by a few entitys, been possessed a few times, and done exhorsisms on people who were really a lot better off being possessed, you start to realize that maybe that is Gods realm and we should stay out of it. The more I live and learn, the less I know. If I keep it up at this rate by the time I die I should know nothing, and there I will be, back in a different brand of diaper…depends… knowing absolutely nothing once again, ready to go home.
However at the time I met angela, I had the entire universal system figured out, and maybe I helped her. Maybe we do make a souls covenant before birth, maybe Jacob knew he would only live five years and he wanted to do that to fulfill a certain purpose. Maybe he needs a fear of fire in his next life, maybe his Mother needed to have proof of life after death, and jacob loved her enough to give his own life to teach her that. At the time I knew these things to be true. But at that time I felt like I had a Doctorite in life and I was sitting in an elementary school classroom.