by Joan Angarano 

My father has Alzheimer’s. He was diagnosed 12 years ago, but I saw it years before.

For years I have watched him decline by conventional standards. For a while Dad could verbally communicate; then that capacity became less and less. However, there was the body language, and of course the occasion when he would say something cogent.

I was also able to track him through the worlds, communicating with him in other dimensions. Then it became difficult for me to communicate with him and still maintain cogent awareness of the content of the communication.

At this point in time, he does not communicate on this plane, either verbally or with his body. Of course, there is still the increasingly rare occasion when he says thank you for something –like feeding him, or tucking him in at night.

But mostly he sits or shuffles, lost in his worlds, making no contact with anyone from this world. His eyes are opened and at times they show some animation. But no one gets in.

My family believes his life is no longer worth living, and suffers from the perspective that he doesn’t deserve to live like this. And people who have known him, me and my family say things like, “What a shame; he was such a vital man.”

I have even been asked, “What is he waiting for? Why doesn’t he die already? This is no life to live!”

But he still lives a valuable life. He is still productive and still working for the community (something that was always important to him). It’s just in a way incomprehensible to the majority. And the community is no longer the town he governed and raised his family in, but humanity at large.

His life serves a purpose very few can comprehend for they cannot move past the fact that on this dimension his life seems futile. But what about the other dimensions that he lives on, that we all live on?

You see, holding form allows us to affect more poignantly the other dimensions of created worlds. And so he is clearing – for himself, his ancestry, and all others, the past distortions that plague us, inhibiting our living our greatest destinies.

My sister once dreamed of him sailing a ship past her home (she lives by the water). She saw him dressed in Captain’s attire and assumed he was saying farewell to her. But he hasn’t died yet.

My perception of this dream was that he wanted to assure her that he was indeed still vital, leading a community (the crew) on a mission; the mission being navigating through dark waters, and in doing so, refreshing them; clearing them of the dross humanity had muddied them with.

He’s not finished with his soul mission – to help people live a better life. His choice to stay in form, and seemingly live a futile life as his disease continues to ravage that form is designed to dispel one of the key illusions humanity suffers under: That form – the body, and all that we experience with our basic sense apparatuses, is all there is.

In fact, maintaining his connection to his body allows my father to infuse more and more, higher and higher frequencies into this dimension; frequencies designed to help heal the planet and her stewards – humanity.

What we perceive as a futile life is actually my Dad holding his form while jumping timelines in an effort to bring those healing rays into this dimension. It is his soul’s destiny to do so and he is not finished yet.

We assume his life to be futile because it does not fit into our perception of productivity. But how does anyone know the futility or productivity of another? How does anyone truly know another’s contract with God, and whether or not one is living within its boundaries?

It is our fears that move us to judge the quality of another’s life choices by what it LOOKS like to us, and our lack of awareness and understanding of the truth of this life.

I am reminded of a story: The Angel of Death comes to take a man and as they fly together from this world the man asks the angel to show him the wisest man living. The angel swoops down and around, coming to an alley in a shabby neighborhood and says to the man, “See that man down there?” The man replies to the angel, “I can only see a homeless bum.” The angel replies, “That’s him. He is the wisest man living, he just doesn’t know it yet.

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