loved ones and for us to crossover, there is nothing to worry about. They often talk about where they live, and where we will live, when it’s our time. They talk about how happy and peaceful everything is in the hereafter. They work very hard to bring a three-dimensional reality to a world we can’t yet see.
What you are about to read comes from the Eternal Light of Love through the souls. I cannot take any credit for some of the incredible things the souls want you to know about the life that waits for you when your journey here on earth is done. The material in this book is strictly from the souls and from what I learned when I finally started paying attention to what they were saying during the sessions they sent my way. If I wrote something contrary to what they wanted me to say, I’d find myself deleting sentences, paragraphs, and even chapters, and rewriting them until I was conveying the messages they need us to know while here on earth.
The souls insisted that this book contain real questions from real people. Let me reiterate that the replies to these questions aren’t my responses. Whenever I was asked a question, I would typically go for a walk and listen to what the souls had to say. And talk they did.
My hope, and the hope of the souls, is that those who read this book will also know that there is nothing to fear—nothing at all! We are never alone on this journey back home.
Anthony Quinata
April 30, 2014
CHAPTER
1
What My Father Saw
On Thanksgiving Day 2009, my sisters Meridith and Nadine went to Saint John of God’s assisted living facility in Los Angeles, California, where both my mother Rosalia and my father Antonio were in the hospital unit on the grounds. My father was there having suffered a heart attack the week before. My mother was there because she had broken her ankle. Because she suffering from moderate Alzheimer’s, she couldn’t understand why she was in a cast and confined to a wheelchair. My sisters were there to bring them food that was typically cooked on the island of Guam to celebrate the holiday.
Nadine went to my father’s room to let him know that Meridith was getting my mother from her room so that they could enjoy a meal together. While she was talking to my father, she noticed that he wasn’t paying attention to her but looking off to the right at the ceiling. “What are you looking at, Dad?” she asked him.
Our father looked at her and said, “I’ve been there before, baby. I don’t know when . . . I don’t know how . . . but I’ve been there before.” He turned his attention back to the ceiling and something Nadine couldn’t see.
“Where have you been before, Dad? What do you see?” Nadine asked, worried that he was hallucinating. “Dad, what is my name? What day is today? How many children do you have?”
My father turned his attention back to her and said, “Deena, I’m okay.” With that he again looked away from her and up at the ceiling. Meridith wheeled my mother in, and they all ate dinner together. My father put aside his dessert, saying he would eat it later.
The next morning at 4 a.m. a nurse checked in on my father and saw that he was sound asleep.
At 6 a.m. when he was checked on again, he had passed away.
Nadine told me this story the day before his funeral. “What do you think he saw?” she asked me.
“Home.”
CHAPTER
2
There Is More Than This
Long before my father made his transition from this life to the hereafter . . . long before Angel told me that I myself had died, crossed over, and come back with knowledge to share with the world . . . long before Rick told me that my time as a medium was coming to an end so I could teach what the souls have taught me, I was standing on the sidewalk of a shopping center . . . and weeping—in front of God and anyone who happened to be walking by.
I was thinking about my friend, Camille, whom I loved, then and now. I was thinking about my family, my mother and father, and my brothers and sisters. And I was wondering what happened after life ended.
I remember praying to Christ, “You’d better not have been lying! I don’t care about myself, but there had better be something more than this. If there isn’t, then what’s the point? Why do we love one another? We could just procreate like animals . . .” I don’t remember what I said after that. All I remember was that I grieving for those I loved who hadn’t even died. I was grieving the idea of dying and never seeing them again. More than that, I was grieving the thought that good people who died ceased to exist. They deserved better than that, I thought to myself. Otherwise, nothing we do really matters, and this thing we call “life” is little more than a cruel joke.
Looking back I now believe that this was the day I was chosen to do the work that I do today—to act as a bridge between this life and the hereafter and to share the message with anyone who’ll listen that death is not the end of life, love, or relationships . . . but a new beginning.
Although I didn’t talk about it in my first book, there were several incidents that hinted at my ability. Like the time I worked for a company that sold burglar and fire alarms to homeowners. One night I was in the home of a woman who told me that she lived alone with her two children and wanted a system so they would feel safe. Halfway through my sales presentation I started bawling my eyes out, uncontrollably. She looked at me like I had lost my mind. I wondered if I had.
“Why are you crying?” she wanted to know.
“I don’t know,” I told her. “I just feel really sad all of a sudden, and I have no idea why!” I kept trying to compose myself, but I just couldn’t. “Who died?” I blurted out suddenly.
The woman whom I was talking to looked at me shocked. “What are you talking about? No one died.”
“Yes. Someone died . . . here . . . in this home.” I insisted, having absolutely no idea where this was coming from. Then, suddenly, I did know. “It was your husband. He died. In this home. Around a month ago. That’s why you want this system.
I have to tell you, he’s still here . . . with you.”
“How do you know that? How did you know my husband died here . . . a month ago?” she demanded, looking more than a little afraid of me.
“I don’t know,” I told her. “It just came to me.”
With that she asked me to leave.
I went to see my friend Mary’s new home before we went to lunch. I say “new” because she had just purchased it. While we were eating lunch, I said to her, “Did you know your home has a ghost?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to come and see it!”
How did I know it was haunted? It was a feeling I had. It was the same feeling I got when I would take a shower on Guam and felt like I was stepping out of the tub into a freezer. It was a chill I felt that wasn’t external, but internal. It was the feeling I received whenever
