Preface

In Touch With His Soul, An Interview with Walden Welch by Gina Cerminara was released in two installments in Psychic Magazine, June and July, 1981 editions. It was the basis for both the biography and Stanford University Parapsychology project. Due to its length, it is being released here in monthly installments. Material cut from the magazine story has been restored. What we present is the original and complete interview. This is the only biography to date, which covers Mr. Welch's entire past history. He is currently working on his personal autobiography, "The Man With A Vision, Or Two". If you missed Parts One or Two of the interview, you may view them in the Archive section of this site.

Walden in Fifth Grade

In Touch With His Soul

An Interview With Walden Welch,

An Important American Psychic

By Gina Cerminara

Part Three

The Promise

Dr. "I hope that your Easter Sunday visit with your father reunited the two of you?"

WW: "No, not at all. It would be almost six years later that I would hear from him again. I am not certain whether it was in 1955 or '56, but one day, out of nowhere, a package that was addressed to me arrived in the mail. It was from my dad and it contained two books by Jack London, 'Treasure Island' and 'White Fang'. He attached a short handwritten note that said: 'Dear Wally, These were two of my favorite books when I was your age. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I did. I will try to plan a trip up to Northern California next summer and, hopefully, we can visit. I hope you and Julie are well. Please give her my 'best'. Love from your dad, Bud."

Dr: "Nothing more? Did he come to visit the following summer?"

WW: "No, nothing more and 'no', he did not come the following summer. But, at least it was contact and I was thrilled by it. Our meeting on Easter Sunday 1949 had really had an effect on me. It changed my life in an almost magical way."

Dr: "How so?"

WW: "Well, after we returned home from our visit that evening, Mom helped me press the little bouquet of violets he had given me in the pages of my book of Bible Stories."

Dr: "You had a book of Bible Stories?"

WW: "Yes. I loved that book. It was given to me for Christmas. I read it over and over again. Then she laundered and ironed the handkerchief he had given her to wipe her eyes and said she wanted me to have it as a keepsake, so I folded it and pressed it into by book along with the violets. You know how little kids have their special secret treasures? Well, those were mine. There wasn't a day I wouldn't think about him. I must have driven Mom crazy asking all sorts of questions. I wanted to know every single thing I could about Bud. He became an obsession with me. One particularly lovely memory I have is when I asked Mom if she thought I would grow up and be tall and handsome like him. She looked at me, gave me a kiss and hugged me tightly to her and said, 'Oh, please don't ever ask to be anything other than you are. You're the most beautiful boy I ever saw. Please don't ask to be taller, or have blue eyes. You're the only "you" in this whole world. You're so perfect and handsome and "the only you". Just think how special every person in this world is. We are all just a one of a kind and, therefore, perfect and special in our "only one of me" way.' I loved that. That's the kind of heart and kindness mom had."

Dr: "I suppose you were hoping that Bud would return into your lives and replace your stepfather Guy?"

WW: "Of course. I daydreamed about that all the time and how Mom's and my lives would be so different if we were with him. Wouldn't any kid? It was a fantasy, but it kept me going and I think our circumstances became easier for me because of it. For instance, I told you how Guy used to slap me around and whip me a lot. From this point on, whenever that would happen, I would sneak off and hide behind a chicken coop and pray to my father. I believed that he would hear my prayers and come to Mom's and my rescue and that none of these things would happen to the two of us anymore. You know, that 'Knight in Shinning Armour' sort of fantasy? Those daydreams truly helped me survive the next years ahead for those were to become the worst years of our lives."

Dr: "More difficult than what you had already been through? Dear Lord! I can't imagine!"

WW: "Please Gina. You're embarrassing me."

Dr: "I'm sorry. Why?"

WW: "Because I think you are pitying me. I told you at the beginning of our interview that I have a very hard time talking about my childhood."

Dr: "Well, I am only human. It's only natural to take pity on any child who has suffered your circumstances. I can well imagine how hard it is for you to talk about your childhood. It must be terribly hard on you to be asked to revive these memories."

WW: "No, it isn't that at all. I don't hurt over these remembrances of my past anymore. So many years have passed since then that I can recall them without pain. I did that healing many, many years ago."

Dr; "Then please tell me what I have done to embarrass you. I would feel terrible to have offended you in any way."

WW: "You haven't offended me. Please don't think that. I did not mean to imply that. I obviously and foolishly, worded things wrong. What I meant to say was that I was embarrassed because you were feeling sorry for me, or for that little boy I was back then, when, in fact, the things abused children go through in this current period in time are for the most part, far, far worse. My situations occurred long before drugs became a problem in society. The atrocities drugs have done to modern day abused children is significantly more tragic than anything I was put through. With this in mind, I don't know that I am worthy of being that pitied. And besides·in truth, I think that I am terribly embarrassed by giving this interview. Do you remember a few months back, when you and Helen asked if you could interview me for both a parapsychology profile and your magazine interview?"

Dr: "Yes, of course."

WW: "And you said that 'It would be a very long and emotionally in-depth interview' about my life, family history, psychic experiences, philosophy, etc.?"

Dr: "Yes."

WW: "Do you recall what I said?"

Dr: "Yes, of course I do. You stated that you were uncomfortable about being interviewed regarding your personal life because your childhood years were very sad ones and that you were afraid people might pity you or perhaps think that you were making up stories in order to win their sympathy."

WW: "Yes, but I said I wouldn't mind being examined or interviewed for a parapsychology project. It is the magazine interview I am uncomfortable with."

Dr: "Is it that you are concerned how the readers of the magazine will accept your unusually sensitive life story?"

WW: "Yes, I find myself rather anxious about this. You see, I have never ever sat down and told anyone my life story. Oh, I've told a few friends parts and pieces of it - different segments, but never my whole story. In the instances I have shared an experience, my friends would usually react with a suspicious look of disbelief. I think they thought that I was over dramatizing these events, so they never really took me seriously. Sometimes they would just kind of smile the kind of smile that says, 'Oh brother·get this one! Like I had just told them a highly exaggerated story like the tale of 'how big the fish was that I caught last summer', you know?"

Dr: "Yes."

WW: "So, therefore, I would just stop whatever I was telling them because I knew they didn't believe me anyway. What is happening to me now is that I realize that for the very first time ever I am telling someone everything I have lived from the beginning to now. Putting all these memories together is rather a shock to me. I feel as if I am watching a movie of my life not just short clips and sequences out of order. It's very embarrassing to see how sad my story has been. It reads like a real sappy soap opera!"

Dr: "And, therefore, you are afraid that no reader will like it or believe it?"

WW: "Yes. Thus far all that I have shared with you sounds like the script to one of those 'orphans caught in a snowstorm' sort of melodramas they used to serialize in the movie matinees, and if I continue to go on with my life story I can promise you it isn't going to get any less saccharine than it has been so far."

Dr: "But now that you are an adult, you have succeeded in becoming a very happy and successful man, have you not?"

WW: "Yes, I am very happy now."

Dr: "Well then?

WW: "Well then, what?

Dr: "Don't you see? Your story is, indeed, going to have a very happy ending! So please trust me to walk down the memories of your life with you so that we can see how you managed to get here. O.k.?

WW: "All right. I see what you are getting at. I'm so sincerely sorry for my childish fit of insecurity. I hope you will forgive me for it?

Dr: "Walden, may I step aside from my role as on interviewer for a moment and simply speak from my heart?

WW: "Of course you can."

Dr: "I think you know that I have grown to love you very much? You and I have been friends for several years now, plus the fact that you have been my trusted astrologer. I have shared my life experiences with you. With due respect to your statement that you can view your past life situations objectively because you have healed with the passing of time·"

WW: "Yes."

Dr: "·despite that, as a parapsychologist I know that there are moments in everyone's lives when recalling past memories, especially unpleasant ones, sends certain emotional, or shall we say electrical impulses, to the brain. Even though a person in the present time has healed from the hurts of the past, there still is the emotion of the time they are recalling coming into play while they are discussing this event with another person. They are, in these discussion moments, dealing in their minds at the time of the event discussed and thus still thinking at that age and therefore are not emotionally using their current conscious mind."

WW: " Like being in a time warp?"

Dr: "Yes, and, therefore, emotions can indeed run rampant. I think this is what you are now experiencing. Consider the fact that you are remembering those you have loved, or those who have offended you. Naturally, a charge of energy affects that part of your brain tied to that emotion and reaction you remember about that person. Simply recalling your mother's face will bring about emotional reactions of love, sympathy and even anguish because she has since passed away. Do you understand? Remember, too, that you are recalling only highlights from the happiest and the saddest moments of your experiences, not the trivial day to day stuff we usually omit from our memory."

WW: " I understand fully."

Dr: "Now·I want to say something to you which is very heart-felt. I believe these rare and extraordinary stories you have lived and shared. I have no doubt whatsoever as to your honesty and sincerity. But, equally important, is the fact that, despite the sadness, I love your story. I do, however, wish for your sake that your life had been far easier and you could have personally had a happier story to tell, but, unfortunately for you, that was not to be. As for myself, and I feel certain this is also true for any reader, I am intrigued and fascinated by what you have thus far shared. Your story makes a book that one simply can't put down. As a writer, I am enamored by your unguarded sensitivity. You speak from your heart and that is indeed a rare human trait these days. It is obvious that you feel emotion while you speak. Just as Van Gogh and Picasso viewed and painted life with rare and significant differences, so do you. You share your stories with such pathos and sincerity. I adore your unguarded feelings. You have that ability of capturing an audience. This is your story, Walden, so please present it through your perception. It is of no matter whatsoever what anyone else may think. It is your story as you lived it and it is also your truth. I don't think you realize that you are a significantly important and gifted person; otherwise, you certainly would not be the subject of this interview. I urge you to please relax and put your anxieties aside and continue with your fascinating remembrances?

WW: "Thank you, Gina. I apologize for my little snit of childish insecurity. You make me feel better. I promise you this won't happen again."

Dr: "You were not being childish in the least. You were simply being considerate of what you thought people wanted from you versus the truth in what you lived."

WW: "All right·I'll pick up now from where I left off o.k.?

Dr: "Wonderful!"

WW: " Shortly after Mom and I had our visit with my father, Mom's health began to deteriorate quite rapidly; her heart condition, that is. She made countless trips to both hospitals and heart specialists. It was finally decided that she would definitely have to undergo heart surgery if she had any hope of survival. She was so ill during this period that she could barely walk without help. Every little exertion tired her beyond belief. It would frighten me to hear her gulp in tiny little mouthfuls of breath. Mom had become weaker than I had ever seen her, but, despite that, she would try to pretend she felt fine and would smile often to reassure me she was o.k. She was never a person to pity or feel sorry for her self. I guess it was her Arian nature to fight being ill. I never saw her ever to once express self-pity. It would best be said she became disgusted with herself whenever she became ill.

"Heart surgery was in its earliest stages of exploration during this time. I believe this was in 1950 or early 1951. It was decided that Dr. Frank Gabode, then the world's leading heart surgeon, would perform the operation. Mom's main aorta to her heart had closed and the hope was to surgically reopen it in order for her to receive the proper blood flow and oxygen to her heart. The operation was scheduled to be performed at The Presbyterian Medical Center in San Francisco. I remember meeting Dr. Gabode. I went to his office one day, along with Mom while he discussed the procedure he would perform. He sat me on his lap and said that he would do his very best to try and make mom well, but that I must be very brave because Mom had a very weak heart and he could not promise he could fix it, but that he would try the very best that he could·that sort of thing."

Dr: "Was that of any comfort to you?"

WW: "No, not at all; if anything, it panicked me. I knew that he was trying to prepare me for the fact she might die. I had also heard a couple of my aunts whispering amongst themselves that 'Julie had better make preparations for Wally in case she doesn't make it.' I was very aware of the seriousness of what was happening and was more frightened than I had ever been before. It was at this time that my behavior started changing radically."

Dr: "In what way?"

WW: "In two ways, actually. The first was that I started sleeping underneath my bed or in the closet. Any psychiatrist would have fun analyzing that one·even Freud or Carl Jung. (Laugh) I suppose the obvious diagnosis would be that I was trying to escape back into the womb. Perhaps that was true, I really don't know. I just felt safer and more secure and less afraid if I slept in either place, so I would just take my blanket off my bed and do so."

Dr: "Were either of your parents aware of this?"

WW: "Eventually, but not until many months after I started this practice. It may have been close to one year before Mom became aware of it."

Dr: "What was the second behavioral change that you experienced?"

WW: "I have always been a very active dreamer. My dreams are always in color. I think that I must have dreams every night of my life. During this period of my childhood I kept having a very simple yet significant reoccurring dream. When I share it with you, it will probably sound like a beautiful dream, but, in truth, it scared me and left me unsettled for many years until I finally discovered its meaning. This dream always unfolded, or came in two parts, or segments. The first part, or segment, would simply be of a beautiful long stemmed red rose set against a dark black background. During this short dream the rose would very slowly begin wilting, then droop over on its right side, as it were dying from lack of water. I would always awaken in a panicked state whenever having this dream. It seems beautiful, I know, but it was emotionally like a nightmare for me for whatever reason."

Dr: "And·the second segment of this dream?"

WW: " The second segment of this dream might come several days or even many months later. It varied. It always began exactly where the previous dream left off·where the rose was wilted and drooped over. Then, all of a sudden raindrops would start falling and slowly the rose would begin to come alive again. As the rain showers fell upon the petals of the rose, it would once again raise to the original erect position it had been standing in at the beginning of the first segment of the dream. It looked healthy and alive once more. I always awoke to this dream feeling very rested and happy."

Dr: "And what did you find was the significance of these two dreams?"

WW: "No, I won't tell you yet. I want to save this for later. I didn't discover its meaning until 1973. Besides, I want to talk about the spiritual significance of dreams a bit more in depth at that time. May I save this discussion for later and present this during the 1973 period of my life?"

Dr: "Of course you may. I won't forget to ask you when we reach that period of your life. I think you may have analyzed your reason for sleeping under the bed to the satisfaction of several, but not all psychiatrists. However, do you think that perhaps this change in your behavior pattern might also have been because you were afraid that, should your mother die, you would be left in the care and guardianship of your stepfather, Guy?"

WW: "No, I don't recall that I was overly concerned about that. I suppose, though, I must have thought about it. However, I'm sure I trusted that mom would never leave me to live with Guy. She would have given me the choice of living either with my grandparents or one or two of my aunts."

Dr: "Do you recall if you thought that, in the case of her death, perhaps you might live with your natural father Bud Welch?"

WW: "No, I never thought about that. I wouldn't have wanted that."

Dr.: "But why not? You said you actually used to pray to him."

WW: "Yes I did, but that was just my fantasy, I think - an escape from the situation I found myself in. It didn't take me long to realize he wasn't going to answer my prayers. I hadn't heard another word from him since our visit, nor had Mom, so I was aware that he really didn't care. Besides, I really didn't know him at all and, therefore, never would have chosen to live alone with him. He was really a stranger to me considering the short time we spent together during his visit. And besides, he hadn't appeared to be any warmer or more demonstrative than Guy. I think my praying to Bud came more from my wishful thinking or perhaps just childish make believe. Mom had told me he had never remarried since their divorce, so I fantasized that we might all live together as a family again; kind of go back in time and make right whatever between them had gone wrong."

Dr: "At anytime before her surgery did Julia discuss what might become of you? Meaning, who you might be living with?"

WW: "Yes, she did. It was just a couple of days before her surgery. Guy drove my grandparents and me to the hospital in San Francisco to visit with her. I hadn't seen Mom for a couple of weeks, for she had been admitted to the hospital beforehand for tests and preparation. I was excited beyond words to see her again. I remember that day so well. It was very foggy in San Francisco and the red brick hospital looked so old and frightening. The walls inside were painted an awful shade of apple green, which looked almost gray, and the floorboards creaked. It seemed like a set out of Dracula to me.

"The adults got to see her first. I waited in the lobby while they visited. I was to get to see her alone. Finally, Grandma came to take me to Mom's room. She was lying in a big white hospital bed wearing an oxygen mask. I gasped when I saw her and bit my lip so as not to cry. The ugliness of the oxygen mask frightened me and Mom saw that I was afraid, so she removed it and laid it on the bed next to her. Then she asked me to crawl up on the bed and lay next to her, which I did as gently as I could, and we snuggled and kissed. I put my head on her left shoulder and she held me to her. I recall her hands holding and squeezing mine. She was wearing 'My Sin' perfume, which was her favorite. I loved her smell. It was such a wonderful moment. She told me how much she had missed me and that she thought about me every moment. I told her the same sentiments, of course. As she spoke, I noticed she was having a hard time breathing and that her lips had discolored to a purplish blue, so I reached across her and put the oxygen mask over her mouth. She said, 'Sweetie, you didn't have to do that. Now I'll look like a big ugly bug and scare you away.' I replied that she looked just beautiful, with or without it. She was trying very hard to keep up the pretense that she was feeling well, but, in truth, she was exhausted. More than anything, I wanted to cry. I'm certain that she knew that because next she said, 'It's o.k. to cry, Sweetheart. I know how worried and scared you are. I'm so sorry I had to be ill and cause you all this worry and hurt. I'm doing everything that I can to get better. Things will get better. I promise you they will. After I get well I will get a job and you and I will get a house together, just you and I. We won't have to live with Guy anymore.' Then she told me that she had made plans for me to stay with my grandparents and Marilyn for several weeks while she was recuperating."

Dr: "You haven't mentioned Marilyn before. Was she one of your aunts?"

WW: "At that time I wasn't really certain what part Marilyn played in my life. I was very young and not really certain of what the difference was between and aunt and a cousin. I would refer to Marilyn as my cousin, even though I thought she was my grandparent's youngest child. Marilyn was five years older than I and the only remaining child living with my grandparents."

Dr: "I see. Please go on with your story."

WW: "Mom went on to say that my two favorite aunts, Marie and Lorraine, also wanted me to live with them and that I could choose to live with whomever I wished. Well·when she said, 'Live with' rather than 'Stay with' I knew that what she really meant was that, should she die, I would have my choice of living with whomever I wanted."

Dr; "Whom would you have chosen?"

WW: "I don't know. I was too frightened by the possibility of losing Mom that I couldn't even consider such a happening. But Mom thought it best that I stay with my grandparents at first because my aunt Marie and her three children were staying with my grandparents, too, as Marie was going through a divorce. Her children were near my age and Mom wanted me to have someone to play with. I asked her who was going to help Guy with the farm and she told me his son Guy Foss, Jr., who we called 'Bucky', was coming to live with him. Bucky was eight months younger than I."

Dr: "Then you were concerned about Guy and the farm?"

WW: "No, not at all. I was just curious. Obviously, what mom was assuring me of was the fact I would not have to fear being left in the care of Guy, should she die.

"It has always been very hard for me to cry. I wish it weren't, but it is. Sometimes when I am going through a very hard emotional situation, I absolutely ache inside myself, truly physically hurt, yet tears won't come - much to my regret. I have several retrograde planets in my chart. People with retrograde planets internalize their emotions; kind of lock them up inside themselves rather than display them outwardly. It's sheer agony because I can really ache with pain inside. I think this is also a fact of whether I am just too scared to cry or not. If I watch a sad tearjerker of a movie like "Imitation Of Life", I can just pour out buckets of tears and make a fool of myself in front of people. If I am frightened from fear or too anguished, I just can't get tears to flow. I guess this is the difference between what is make-believe and what is reality. The prospect of losing my mother was so horrific to me that I was emotionally paralyzed from fear. I knew Mom knew this about me because she always encouraged me to express how I felt about a situation rather than hold my emotions inside. For instance, while we were laying side by side in her hospital bed she said to me, 'Sweetie, I know how afraid you are that I'm going to die. It's o.k. to be afraid. That's nothing to be ashamed of. Why don't you cry out all your pain so that you can feel better? God gave us tears as a way of releasing our hurts. That's what tears are for.' Her intimacy in knowing how I felt allowed me to let go and then my tears could flow. She always seemed to have a way of speaking to my heart and soul. So, I just lay with my head on her shoulder and cried until I was cried out. 'It's o.k. That's better.' She would say this over and over while she dabbed my cheeks with a Kleenex, and she would continue to talk about matters she thought would be of help to me. 'Sometimes there are sad things that happen to people in this world that is beyond our control or understanding. We just don't have any choice about it and must deal with whatever this sad, bad thing is even though we have no idea whatsoever as to what we did to deserve it. I was born very sick and I don't know why, but I think that God maybe put me in this world to show other people that they don't have it so bad; that if I could endure what I had to go through, then they could, too. And, maybe, He put me here to undergo heart surgery to help the doctors learn how to heal other people and make them better? You see, Sweetie, God has a plan for each and every one of us. Sometimes what we think is awful and bad really isn't, but we just don't know that because we don't have His wisdom. I think maybe He wants me to get better and that's why I am to have this operation and I am going to do everything that I can to live through it and get well. I cannot promise you that I will be able to do this, Sweetie, but I can promise you that I will try very hard and with all my might to. I will promise to try not to leave you, but, if I cannot do this, I can promise you I will not stop loving you or being with you every, every moment because love never dies, nor do people, really. We just become souls without bodies and are just as alive as ever we were, but in a different form, that's all.'

"It seemed far too short a time before a nurse came in with my grandmother and said we would have to leave. I kissed Mom goodbye and told her I loved her. Then I whispered into her ear, 'Please, Mama·please don't leave me, please don't die. I love you Mama, please.' She smiled at me and said, 'I promise, Honey. I promise I will try. I love you, Sweetie.' The nurse carried me into the waiting room where Guy and my grandparent's were waiting. Then Guy drove the four of us home.

"It seems so strange that in those six years of living with Guy, he and I only shared one incident of intimacy and caring for each other."

Dr: "And when was this?"

WW: "Two mornings after we arrived home from visiting Mom. I was well aware that everyone in the family was trying to hide the date of Mom's operation from me. I'm certain that she had insisted that no one let me know which day this would be because she knew how much I worried and all the anxiety I was going through."

Dr: "That's understandable. I'm sure she wanted to spare you from the trauma of the painful experience of the hospital waiting room ordeal."

WW: "Exactly. Well, the morning before her surgery I was alone in our kitchen having my breakfast. I was eating a bowl of Kellogg's Rice Krispies with sliced banana, when suddenly Guy walked in. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a matching flannel hat. The moment I saw him I froze and dropped my spoon, which cracked my cereal bowl. You see Guy usually wore khaki slacks and plaid flannel shirts. He never wore a suit unless it was for a special or serious occasion such as weddings or funerals, so I knew immediately that this was the time he was leaving for the hospital for Mom's surgery."

Dr: "And you panicked?"

WW: "Yes, I think I was in shock. I recall that I felt as if I had been slugged in the stomach and couldn't catch my breath. Maybe I was in hyperventilation? Whatever it was I must have looked pathetic because he did the strangest thing."

Dr: "What was that?"

WW: "We had never ever once hugged or kissed one another before. Even during the incidents in which he would hand me something, I would deliberately try never to touch his hand because he repelled me so much. I guess it's natural that when we don't like someone we avoid touching him or her? Well, what was different about this occasion was that he actually picked me up and asked me to put my arms around his neck while he carried me into the living room. Then he sat down on the sofa with me on his lap. I tried to get up and move, but he said, 'No. Just sit here.' Unbelievably, he then kissed me on the cheek and gently forced my head onto his shoulder and said, 'I know what you are going through. I know how hard this is for you, Wally. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.' Between the fear of knowing my mother's surgery was soon to be, plus the unexpected act of Guy's kindness, I began to sob. I cried so hard I was actually sobbing and my tears were wetting the shoulder of his suit where my head was laying. I thought for sure that he would hit me for this, so I tried to pull away from him yet he just kept holding me tighter and telling me, 'It's o.k. It's o.k.'"

Dr: "Do you recall if he cried as well?"

WW: "Yes, he did. I can still picture the look he had on his face. He looked scared, too, and his eyes were all teary. This was the first time I ever realized he cared about Mom or maybe even loved her. Then he said to me, 'You have to be a very brave boy, Wally. I have to prepare you for something that is very hard for me to say to you. Julia's doctor does not expect her to live through this surgery. He said that he will do all that he can for her, but Julie is very, very sick so you must be prepared that she may not make it. O.K.? All we can do is just pray and hope for the best and trust The Lord will be merciful.'"

Dr: "And what did you say?"

WW: "I couldn't talk. I couldn't say anything. I was crying so hard that my body physically hurt. Did you ever have that feeling, when you were a kid, that your heart was being pulled downward? Like someone unseen was tugging at it, pulling and squeezing it? It's a feeling that's hard to describe."

Dr: "Yes, I am aware of the feeling you are describing."

WW: "Well, that's what I was feeling. It is terribly painful. Perhaps that is what is meant by 'heartache', 'heartbreak' of 'heartsick'?"

Dr: "Yes, perhaps it is."

WW: "Well, anyway·Then Guy told me that he was going to have to leave for the hospital and that I was to pack my clothes and spend the night with Ken and Sue, who would drive me to my grandparents' home the following morning. He said he was sorry I had to leave him and stay with my grandparents, but that is what Mom wanted so he had no say in it. He told me he would miss me, that I was 'a good boy', and that he hoped for a miracle that everything would work out well so we could all be together again. Then he actually gave me $10.00 'for spending money while your at your grandparents.' I begged him to take me to the hospital with him so that I could see Mom before her surgery and be there while she was in the operating room. I told him I would feel much better if he would let me do this, but he said, 'No. Julia thinks it best you be with Sue and Ken instead of worrying at the hospital and that the doctor would phone us as soon as the operation was over.' Much to my surprise, he hugged and kissed me again and said, 'I'm sorry I can't take you. All we can do now is pray. There is really nothing else we can do.' I'm sincerely grateful that Guy and I had this one time personal encounter together. It was, unfortunately, never to happen again.

"After he finished speaking to me, I went into my bedroom, knelt beside my bed, and began to pray. Up until this moment, my prayers had only been the conventional 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray The Lord my soul to keep·'.

Dr: "If I should die before I wake, I pray The Lord my soul to take?"

WW: "Yes, and the 'God Bless Mommy' and so on. But on this day, my prayers were almost a plea. I really learned the value of prayer and the benefits it could bring."

Dr: "In what way?"

WW: "I suppose the difference between my usual nightly prayer and what happened at this time was absolute sincerity and dire need of being helped. All I could ask for over and over again was, 'Please God don't let my mother die. I beg you please, don't let my mom die. I love her so much God. Please let me be the sick one, don't let it be her.'

"During my prayer something amazing happened. I will do my best to describe what occurred as accurately as possible, but it is very difficult to find the right words so please bare with me if I fail to be totally comprehensive, and question me should you need further clarity, o.k.?"

Dr: "Of course."

WW: "Remember that I told you how my heart ached?"

Walden's Great Grandfather (In His Younger Years)

Dr: 'Like it was being tugged or pulled?"

WW: "Yes, kind of like someone was pulling it downward and squeezing it. I was still undergoing this hurting sensation while I was praying, plus I hadn't stopped crying, so sometimes I would have to stop my prayer to wipe my eyes. While doing so I noticed, through the corner of my eye, someone sitting on my bed. I was kneeling on the floor and up above me on the bed to my right I saw a man's knee. He was wearing trousers of a pearl gray color. At first I thought it was Guy, but then remembered Guy was wearing a dark blue suit, so I looked up to see who the man was. Much to my amazement, sitting there was a wonderful looking old man. He had beautiful snow-white hair that seemed to glisten. He was heavy set; no, maybe fleshy, or perhaps a better description would be to say he looked portly or robust. His face was very kind and sweet, and his cheeks were very rosy against his white skin - like perhaps he had just come in from the cold. He was watching me and smiling and I felt this fantastic feeling of love and warmth. He exuded 'happiness' like Santa Claus would, except the old man I saw didn't have a beard. He had no wrinkles whatsoever, which surprised me because he looked so very old, and his eyes were a very crisp pale blue and utterly beautiful and kind; the look behind his eyes was so kind. At first I described him as 'seeming happy', but I think the better description to use would be to say he 'look pleased and content' yet there was definitely joy exuding from him. He appeared to be completely solid, not transparent, and was wearing a three-piece pearl gray suit, white long sleeve shirt, but no hat. His face, hair and eyes seemed so lovely and remarkable that his attire seemed secondary, if not insignificant. His presence was so comfortable to be with that at first I thought I knew him. His smile was alluring and it seemed to come from deep inside him, or perhaps it's that I felt his smile deep inside myself? I don't know which it was, but I do know that his sweetness of presence so calmed and transfixed me that I had stopped crying and the painful tugging at my heart stopped completely. He seemed so wonderful that I smiled back at him and then realized I had never seen him before and did not recognize him at all."

Dr: "Did you become frightened?"

WW: "Oh, no·not at all! His presence and the feeling of love and kindness, which emanated from him, mesmerized me. It seemed as if my entire bedroom was electrified with this feeling that came from him. It was astounding. The surrounding atmosphere was alive with the feeling of the same sweet·soft·kindness that emanated from his face. Everything around was as if it was an extension of his radiation. I could also feel his warmth and tranquility inside of me. When he spoke to me, his lips did not move at all, but I could hear his voice crisp and distinct inside my head. Although he spoke in English, he had a Portuguese accent. I recognized this accent because my grandparents also had it, although his voice was entirely different from theirs."

Dr: "What did he say to you?"

WW: "In the kindest and sweetest tone a voice could ever speak, he said, 'Don't cry, little one. Julia will not die.' I knew the moment he said this that what he said was a fact. I knew! It was unquestionable and the peace that went through me was exhilarating. Yet I foolishly asked, 'Do you promise?' He smiled cutely, as if to humor me, then said, 'I promise. It is also God's promise.' There was simply no pain or anguish left inside me. I felt total calmness, or perhaps it was ecstasy? It is impossible to describe the feeling, but I absolutely knew Mama would not die. Next he turned his head a bit to the side in a silly 'talking to a kid' sort of manner, then pointed an index finger at me and said, 'You tell Julia she is a silly quay-etta.' I had never heard that word before and do not know even how to spell it, yet I can never forget it. Then slowly, but suddenly, disappeared or more like evaporated, before my eyes. I was amazed by his disappearance, the way he simply faded away. I thought perhaps he must have been an angel. However, I didn't know if God made old men angels, so I wasn't sure. I knew he wasn't one of the 'shadow people', the spirits I saw in church, because they never spoke to me or even looked at or acknowledge me. This kind old man had come to visit me with definite intention, this I knew. I knew he came with a special message meant to help me."

Dr: "Did you tell Guy about his visit?"

WW: "No. Something told me not to. Instinctively, I knew he wouldn't believe me anyway. I was so excited though that I ran across the street and told our neighbors Ken and Sue Martin about the visit."

Dr: "And, did they believe you?"

WW: "Yes, I think they did. If they didn't, they certainly didn't let on. Sue was a very superstitious person anyway. She would never get out of bed on Friday the 13^th or cross the path where a black cat walked, that sort of thing. Mom and I used to tease her about her superstitions. Besides, I'm sure that Mom must have told them that I had these unusual things happen to me and that I saw things other people didn't see. It would not have mattered to The Martins anyway because they truly loved Mom and me. But, in answer to your question, yes, I do think that they believed me because they had me tell my experience to them a couple of times and asked for more and more details. They seemed stunned, but very excited. Then Sue said that she had a surprise for me. Mom was going to phone me from the hospital at 6:00 PM that evening. They told me 'You must tell Julie every word of what you heard, and every single thing that you saw.'"

Dr: "And did you?"

WW: "Of course! I couldn't wait. I told you, I KNEW she would NOT die. I absolutely knew this to be a fact. Of course I had to tell her. I wanted to take her fear away."

Dr: "And when she phoned you and you told her about the supernatural visit, how did she react?"

WW: "Mom listened to my story; she listened very, very quietly. Then she said, 'Grandma is here in my room with me. Please tell her what you saw and heard too, Sweetie.' And so I related the experience to Grandma. When I finished, I could hear Grandma crying. She didn't say anything to me personally, but I heard her say to Mom, 'Blessed Jesus, Son of Mary.' Then Mom came back to the phone. I asked her why Grandma was so upset? Did I say something wrong or do something bad? Mom replied, 'You did nothing wrong, Sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong at all. What you did, what you said, was wonderful. Grandma is crying because you made her so happy.' I asked her, 'How come?' Mom replied that it was because Grandma knew who the old man I saw was. I asked her to ask Grandma to please tell me. 'Is he an angel Mama?' She answered me by saying, 'Yes, I think he is now. You see Sweetie, the man you saw used to be Grandma's father. That means that he was my Grandpa and that would make him your Great Grandfather.' 'Is he dead now, Mom?' I asked. 'He died many years ago, but he is a spirit now, Sweetie,' she answered. 'He is in heaven.' I asked her, 'But, Mama, how do you know for sure it is him? Did I know him?' 'No, Honey, he died many years before you were born.' 'Then how do you know for certain it's him if you didn't see him?' I asked. 'Because you described him exactly as he looked when he was alive. Great Grandpa had sparkling baby blue eyes, snow-white hair and was heavy set. His cheeks were very rosy and he hardly had one wrinkle, just as you described. And·you know what else?' 'What Mama?' I asked. 'He always called me a "Silly Quay-etta" when I was a little girl. That was his nickname for me because he said I used to waddle, or walk, like a little duck. He loved to tease me. Quay-etta means duck, or goose in Portuguese. He loved me very much and I loved him too, Sweetie.' 'Mama, he promised me that you wouldn't die. He said God promised that, too. I guess he knows God and God told him.' 'Yes, I think he does know God,' Mom replied."

Dr: "Yours is one of the most beautiful descriptions of spirit communication that I have ever heard."

WW: "What I experience and have shared with you is true, Gina. I haven't been able to describe it well, I'm sorry to say. So much of it was 'feeling' and there was an 'awesome-ness' about the experience that I lack words to describe, but it is what happened. I have always known reality from non-reality, and this was an experience that was not imaginary. This visitation had an affect on me that was far greater than any other I had thus far experienced. It was the first time I had really felt the divinity of God. The angels I had seen since I was a young child had always brought me a calmness and tranquility, which comforted me, but this visitation seemed to envelop me with a certainty and enlightenment beyond my control. I knew the man I saw was not God, yet I also knew that the energy, or spirit of God was there in the room with us."

Dr: "Beautifully said! You are far more articulate than you give yourself credit for. Please continue with your story."

WW: "After Mom and I finished our telephone conversation, Ken and Sue divulged to me that Mom's surgery was to be performed the following morning at 9:00 AM. Ken said to me, 'Zeke, it's going to be a long and hard night. How about the three of us going out for a Chinese dinner and a movie tonight to help pass the time?' I replied that would be fine, but I really didn't want to go to the movies, if that was o.k. with them. They asked what I would rather do and I asked them, that if it weren't too much trouble, would they drive me to the Catholic Church across town near my Aunt Marion's house so I could light a votive candle for Mom. So that evening before dinner, the three of us went into the church together. I took a dollar from the pocket of my jeans to pay for a seven-day candle, but Ken said, 'No, Zeke. Save your spending money, I'll pay for it.' I told him I appreciated his offer, but I thought it would mean more if I paid for it myself. He handed me two extra dollars and said he and Sue would like to light one for themselves as well, so I inserted the three one dollar bills into the collection box. Ken noticed that there were several unlighted candles available and asked if we should light them all, 'just for luck'. I said I didn't think we should because other people who may be sick might need them, and I didn't think Mom would want us to. Each of us lit our own candle, but I removed mine and set it before the statue of Saint Jude which was at the far end of the church."

Dr: "Saint Jude, The Saint of the Impossible?"

WW: "Yes. Ken and Sue were not Catholic, so I explained to them the significance of Saint Jude."

Dr: "That, when all else failed, Saint Jude was the last resort?"

WW: "Yes. Then all three of us knelt before Him and prayed. After that we left the church and went to dinner. When we returned home, Sue sliced us all apiece of lemon meringue pie. She had baked it especially for me because she knew it was my favorite. After we finished our dessert, Ken said he thought we had better try to get some sleep because we had a long and hard day ahead of us waiting for the doctor to call. Sue thought it best that I sleep in their bed between the two of them, so that I would not be alone. I put on my pajama's and Won Woo and I came into their bedroom to join them."

Dr: "Won Woo? Who was Won Woo?"

WW: (Laugh) "Their dog. I guess I forgot to tell you they had a Pekinese dog named Won Woo. It means 'Toy Thing' in Chinese. She had horrible breath, but we all adored her. (Laugh) When Won Woo and I entered the room, these two more than beautiful friends had done the most wonderful thing!"

Dr: "What was that?"

WW: "Without my knowing it, Ken had snuck a votive candle out of the church. When I entered the bedroom, it was burning on their dressing table near the foot of their bed. 'We forgot to light one for your Great Grandfather, Zeke,' Ken said to me. 'This is to remind you of his promise.'

"I don't think any of us really slept much that night. I did doze off a couple of times because I recall I had that upsetting dream again. I remember waking up screaming and Ken and Sue asked me what was wrong."

Dr: "The dream of the wilting rose?"

WW: "Yes. As always it was just a short, split second of a dream, but for some reason it always terrified me to watch the red rose droop. After the two of them calmed me, assuring me it was only a 'silly nightmare' Ken looked at the clock and said, 'It's 5:30 AM. Three and one half hours to go. Let's try and get some sleep.' I'm certain that none of us slept at all after that. We just laid in bed holding hands and cuddling and watching the candle glow".

End of Part Three

Next: Part Four, The Librarian

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