No one knows for certain what happens to us after we die. Do we simply cease to exist? Or does our energy – our personality or spirit – continue on some other plane? Most people think there is an afterlife, and every once in awhile people experience events that forever convince them that life after death is a reality. Paula Jenkins, who suffered the loss of her son, is one of those people. This is Paula's story.
I LIVE IN Houston Texas and I have decided to share my very own proof positive, so to speak, of the afterlife activity that has gone on in my home since the death of my youngest child, Christopher Michael Jenkins (April 3, 1983 – December 5, 2002).
Christopher was a very bright, talented young man. He was 19 years, 8 months and 2 days old when he crossed over. He was a high school graduate, an accomplished artist in drawing caricatures, and could play keyboard, bass guitar, lead guitar and drums. He liked to make up new lyrics to old songs, like Weird Al Yankovich, with his own melodic satires. He had just been promoted to Chef where he worked and was going on to culinary school. His dream was to open his own restaurant.
Christopher never met an enemy he couldn't make a friend. He started a rock band with his older brother. He had plans – big plans – and he was going for them; the whole pie in the sky, not just a piece of it. He was 6'4" and 360 lbs. at the time of his death, and there was nothing he couldn't do.
Then Death came. It was a cold, overcast, wet, gray December day. Chris had moved his room into our den, which had sprung a leak the night before, and had moved his mattresses into the living room. I had just gotten back home from taking my oldest son to work when Chris came into my room. He had woke up and felt cold. He asked if he could sleep in my bed. "Sure," I said. After all, he may be way bigger than I, but he was still my baby. He crawled under the blankets. He told me, "I love you, Mama" and I told him, "I love you too, Punkin." Those were the last words he would ever speak to me.
Twenty minutes later, my daughter – my firstborn – showed up. She couldn't seem to get her new cell phone working, could I help? Of course I could, I am SuperMom! She was online activating her phone when it started. Chris was snoring. Loudly, as usual. Then he got really loud and it startled us. We looked at him. Chris's legs started shaking. At first I thought he was having leg cramps; he often got them while he slept. I started rubbing them and talking to Chris, but got no response.
My daughter raised his head up and his eyes were rolled up in his head. She screamed, "Mom! Something's wrong with him! I'm calling 911!" While she frantically called for help, I stood up and rolled him over. My heart stopped when I saw the blue ring around his mouth. My son was dying. I screamed, "Oh, God! No! Not my baby!" We started CPR immediately. His girlfriend and brother-in-law ran into the room (they had slept over the night before). I had my son-in-law take over for me while I desperately tried to contact my husband at work 12 miles away.
The ambulance arrived. They gave him shock treatments to stimulate his heart. But we were getting no response. An hour later, they pronounced him deceased. My baby... gone forever.
Or was he?
Next page: Chris signals