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Margaret Matthews

P.M.H. Atwater, LHD

www.pmhatwater.com

Reprinted with permission from We Live Forever: The Truth About Death, A.R.E. Press

During the time I lived in Boise, Idaho, Margaret Matthews, a dear friend of mine, was killed in a horrible accident. Margaret, her husband Frank, and their grandson were traveling by car to Yellowstone Park for a vacation. He was driving; she was on the passenger side, and their grandson was wedged in between them. Just as they crossed a bridge, a pickup truck, driven by a drunken teen showing off for his girlfriend, slammed head-on into them. Margaret was decapitated. Frank was crushed, yet he stubbornly clung to life as he and his grandson were rushed to the nearest hospital. When the attending physician determined that only the boy's pelvis had been broken and that he would recover, Frank drew a sign of relief and promptly died. Even when mangled beyond belief, he was protective of his grandson and would not leave until he knew for certain that the boy would live.

The death of Margaret and Frank Matthews was a triple tragedy. Once their grown children were notified, they in turn broke the news to Frank's elderly mother, their grandmother. She was so shocked, she died instantly. As it happened, at Margaret's request, my former husband and I were in the Matthews's home early that evening holding a Search for God Study Group meeting (spiritual studies taken from the readings of the late Edgar Cayce). Their son telephoned, surprised that anyone was there, and we talked at length. The meeting became a prayer circle where each person in attendance served as a guide to assist the three souls in making their transition into God's great light and to help the grandson.

I tell you this because of what happened next. While making certain that there was plenty of food for everyone at the Matthews's home during the days before the funeral for all three, I also did door duty. That means I was standing at the threshold when the neighbor across the street came running toward me, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Margaret can't be dead. Tell me she's not dead. I saw her and I talked to her when the sheriff's deputy said she had died. That's not possible. She was here and I talked to her.” All of us did a double take and gathered around.

The woman's story told with utter conviction and backed up by the deputy's log of her telephone call, went like this: She was outside sweeping her stoop when she looked up and saw Margaret walking along her front sidewalk. She yelled at her and asked how she was doing. Margaret stopped, faced the woman, smiled, and said was just fine. She smiled again, turned around, and kept walking to the door, unlocked it, and disappeared inside as the door closed. The neighbor thought nothing of this exchange until, after finishing her chores, she turned on the radio in her kitchen and heard the bulletin. She called the sheriff's department to see if the broadcast was a prank and learned, much to her shock, that the time she and Margaret had been visiting was the exact same moment Margaret was killed.

I asked the neighbor if she had ever before experienced anything supernatural. She said, no, then she stunned the crowd that had gathered by saying: “A couple of weeks ago, Margaret and I were talking and I told her that I wanted more than anything else in the world to know if there was life after death. She promised me that the proof I needed would soon be coming. Then she smiled that special smile of hers, just like she did when I saw her yesterday.”

This isn't all that Margaret did after her death. She manifested countless times, always seen as fully alive and responsive, whenever she could help another or be of service. These appearances of hers, plus other types of after-death communications from her went on for almost a year. Seven years later, she reappeared to fulfill a prediction she had once made to me: that when I enrolled in a certain class on the power of affirmative prayer, I would look up and see one of her daughters looking back at me. That did happen, even though her family and I had not communicated since the funeral. Several class members saw Margaret in the room before I did, then the lights went out. They did not come back on until Margaret's presence was acknowledged.

Can the dead return after they die?

You bet they can.

For a period of time after death, it is a commonplace for the dearly departed to return home or stick around that which is familiar. Unfinished business draws them back, or simply the desire to let their loved ones know they're okay. Once satisfied that they have done all they can for the living, most of them complete their transition into the spirit realms.

Incidents do occur, however, in which the dying do not merge with their soul but remain a disembodied ego floating around or simply existing until someone or something wakes them up. That's why prayer is so important at the deathbed and afterward. As powerful as the soul is, its memory can cloud or at times seem forgetful. Even a soul can use a little help.