In the second 4:30 recording session I ever had with my guides, they told me that my grandmother had approached them to speak to me. They said she was sad that no one ever visited her grave to leave flowers, and she wanted me to visit her grave site. "Don't forget now. Bye-bye," she said to me. I had to sheepishly admit that I did not know where my grandmother was buried. She had died while I was out of the country in 1976. Both my parents and all of my aunts and uncles from that side of the family were also deceased. None of my living relatives that I was able to reach knew where she was buried. But I made the determination that I would follow her wishes and I just had faith that, when the time came, I would find her grave. (continued below...)
The opportunity to visit my grandmother's final resting place came quicker than I anticipated. In late July we got an urgent phone call from family in California, advising us if we wanted to see my wife Stella's beloved uncle Roger one more time while he was still alive, we'd need to do it soon. This was not a surprise. Roger had been suffering from cancer for several years. I immediately booked a flight for us to San Francisco near where Roger lived, and added a stop in Los Angeles. Although I still didn't know where my grandmother was buried, I knew it had to be in Southern California. She lived in Santa Paula, California when she had passed away. While I was at it, I added a stop in Phoenix so we could visit the grave of my brother Eugene. We could also rent a car and drive from there up into the mountains to Show Low, where we could visit my family and the graves of my mother and father.
Eugene was older than me by six years. He had been a Vietnam veteran. I had admired his simple and sincere manner. I was always much more reserved but Eugene was open and fun loving, with a bit of a rebellious streak. He also developed cancer and passed away at 59, the age I was at the time of this crossing. I will always be grateful for the spiritual protection he provided to me at our haunted house, and continues to provide. After landing in Phoenix we rented a car and picked up my niece Colleen, who had recently rented a house in East Mesa and was considering moving there permanently. I was happy Colleen could join us for this very emotional crossing at the ceremony, as she had played such a large part in my spiritual development. I performed the crossing ceremony next to Eugene's grave under unrelenting sun and heat. Only three of 1,307 spirits gathered chose to remain.
Later, Colleen wrote very beautifully about her experience that day. "Joe started his incantations and prayer to invoke the light for crossing spirits. I closed my eyes and what I saw was so beautiful. I witnessed the most sacred and beautiful gathering completely beyond anything I had seen prior. Angels and loved ones were gathered in a symphony of colors and lights. There was happiness and joy in the reunions with these beloved souls. My words are incapable of portraying the emotion and sacred beauty. My eyes fill with tears each time I remember it. I know how much we are loved. I have no fear of leaving this earth when my time comes. These souls are loved; no one will be left behind. Some were lost. Some were confused. Some were even mislead, controlled and rebellious. Each one is loved and there is a plan to bring them home. I also know that Joe's path has been laid very carefully and that his time here now is blessed. His calling is not an easy one. Even with his angelic protectors he is attacked spiritually daily. His walk is a sacred, one that I am very grateful to witness." (continued below...)
Before we left Florida I was finally able to discover where my grandmother was buried. I figured she had to be buried next to my grandfather, who had been a WWI veteran. Looking online through military records, I located the cemetery. We flew into LAX and we rented a car for the drive to Whittier. At the grave site I went into my normal crossing ceremony but was quite surprised at the emotion I felt in performing the crossing at the graves of my grandparents. After all, my grandmother had passed away 38 years before, and I had never actually met my grandfather, as he had died before I was born.
I never faltered, but I was very nervous because I kept seeing dark figures darting between the trees. And not just out of the corners of my eyes, but often right in front of me. I didn't know what the dark human-like shapes were and if I should be concerned. But I got through the entire ceremony without incident. Later, I asked my guides about the shadowy figures and was told, “They were running away from us because they could not decide what to do. But when they saw and understood what you were doing, they went through, too.”
4,261 decided to cross over at the cemetery, more than at any other event up until that time. After I was finished, I used a ghost box to ask the ones that remained why they opted not to cross. A ghost box (or spirit box) is a device that cycles through radio frequencies very quickly, usually between 200 to 300 times per minute. That means it only stays on one frequency for one-fifth to one-third of a second. The idea is to create static that the spirits can use to speak through. If you hear a full word or multiple words, that means the sound was formed across multiple frequencies and could not be the result of radio broadcast interference. A video recording of one spirit's response follows next.
"Why didn't you cross?"