October 9th is the anniversary of my younger sister Ann's death. She died suddenly, of an undetected heart condition in 2008. It hardy seems possible that she's been gone for seven years. When she made her transition she left a huge hole in my life. We spoke every day and spent as much time together as we could.
I believe there is another world, another life beyond the one we're in now, that's available to us, a more enduring existence open to anyone able to embrace some kind of a "leap of faith," or at least see it as JK Rowling puts it in one of her "Harry Potter" novels: for a "well-organized mind: death is but the next great adventure."
It would be disingenuous of me to claim that I know for certain what happens when we die and what follows. Mediumistic communication is a slippery subject, and I am aware of its potential pitfalls. But I am also widely read in the area, and what I've tried to show here is the remarkable richness of the best of spirit literature.
My brother, a real estate attorney who lived on New York's Upper East Side, was the last person I would have expected to tell me he thought he would go somewhere after dying, especially someplace as undocumented and wooey-wooey as the afterlife. Jack went only to places covered in The New York Times Travel Section -- London, Paris, Jerusalem.