Beverly, a 45-year-old waitress in Louisiana, was asked to fulfill a request after her boyfriend’s mother, Jane, died from a massive coronary. But Beverly doesn’t know whether she was awake or asleep at the time she had this ADC: This was about a month after her death. My boyfriend, Roy, and I were living together. We didn’t have a telephone in the bedroom – only in the living room.

I was asleep when the phone rang and woke me up. I got up, went to the living room, and answered it. Roy’s mother, Jane, was on the phone! She asked, “Will you please take care of my son for me?” It was a tender request, and when she asked for this commitment, I told her that I would. Then I woke up in bed. But I wasn’t sure if I had actually gotten out of bed and answered the phone in the living room or whether the whole thing had been a dream.

I knew Roy’s mother very well. We were close confidants and friends before she died. Roy was a dependent man in a lot of ways, and Jane was asking me to be the emotional support for her son in her absence. I stayed with Roy for three more years, and then I left that relationship. There was some guilt involved for me because I hadn’t kept my promise to Jane. Though I had made a commitment to her, I had an overriding commitment to myself.

Ramona, a homemaker in California, was astonished by a call from her husband, Stanley, who was 43 years old when he died of an aneurysm: This was within weeks after Stanley’s death. It was morning and I was cleaning up after breakfast. The phone rang and I picked it up. My husband said, “Hi, honey!” It was Stanley – the voice was his!

He sounded as clear as could be, just as though he had called me from work. That was all he said and the phone went dead – there was no disconnect. For a minute, I thought I was going batty. But I know the phone rang. I was holding it in my hand, and I know I heard my husband’s voice!

Monica is a 52-year-old bookstore owner in Missouri. She heard from her father in an unusual way 3 months after he died of a heart attack: My father died in June, and this was in September. I was at home one day and called a company about something very routine. The operator came on the line and told me to wait, and then the elevator music began. Suddenly, the music cut off, and I heard my father say, “Hello, Dolly!” That’s what he always called me. Then he said, “You know who this is!” I knew his voice, but I didn’t say anything because I was so stunned!

A few seconds went by and then he said, “This is your daddy.” His voice was very gentle and sounded exactly the same as ever. It was like a long-distance connection, but there was no static and the line was perfectly clear. Then the operator came back on the line to tell me the person I was calling wasn’t there, and I hung up. Naturally, I tried calling that number again to see if anything would happen, but it didn’t. This unique experience was so real that I cannot question it. It shattered my skepticism about such communications. Perhaps my father chose this method so that I could in no way doubt the reality of it.

Ellyn, a human resources manager in Nevada, had this phone ADC after her 12-year-old daughter, Ashley, died of leukemia: This was more than three years after Ashley died. I was going through a real bad health problem. I had been diagnosed with a lung disease, and I was afraid I was going to die too. That night, I was making spaghetti on the stove and the phone rang. I picked it up and I heard this little voice say, “Mommy!” I thought, “What? Who is playing this terrible joke?” So I asked, “Please, who is this?” She said, “This is Ashley. What are you doing, Mommy?” I said, “Ashley? I’m cooking.” And she said, “You’re making my favorite meal. You’re making spaghetti!” It was Ashley’s voice – she sounded strong and healthy – and nobody could imitate her voice. At that point I thought I was crazy, but no one knew what I was cooking for dinner because it was a spur-of-the-moment thing to make spaghetti.

Then I asked her, “Ashley, are you okay?” And she said, “Mommy, I’m okay. I just called to tell you that you’re going to be okay too.” Then the phone went dead. There was no dial tone. No noise. Nothing. I just sat there with the phone in my hand for the longest time. I had lung surgery six months later. A month ago I went to the doctor. My blood count was normal for the first time in three years, and next month he’ll start weaning me off my medication. Ashley was right – she told me I was going to be okay!

Sylvia is a retired dental hygienist in Indiana. She received two messages from her 36-year-old son, Joe, after he was murdered: It was four or five weeks after Joe’s death. Sometime during the night, when I was fast asleep, I heard the phone ring. I picked up the receiver, which is on the night table next to my bed, and I found myself sitting up.

I said, “Hello?” And the answer came, “Hello, Mom. This is me.” This is the way Joe always started his conversations when he called us. He said, “Please stop grieving for me. Please stop crying. I want you to know that I’m happy and I’m at peace.” Before I could say anything, he was gone – just like the phone went dead. It was like a regular telephone conversation, but I didn’t hear him put down the receiver. I was wide awake at the time, and I know that I heard Joe’s voice. But for a while I couldn’t believe it. Finally, I woke my husband up and told him and he said, “You must have been dreaming.” I didn’t want to tell anyone else about it because I thought they would laugh at me and say, “Oh, that couldn’t have happened!”

About three weeks after the first call, it happened again! During the night the phone rang. I picked it up and I sat up in bed. This time Joe didn’t even identify himself but said, “Mom, you’re not letting me go. You’re still crying and grieving. Please stop. I can’t be at peace.” I could hear him just as plain as could be. I opened my mouth to say something, but my son was gone, and that was it. I’ve wanted to hear from Joe again. I’ve waited for something, and yet there hasn’t been any communication in all this time, which is over ten years. But I know you cannot wish it and make it happen.

Penny is a former loan officer for a bank in Florida. When she was only 16 years old, her 35-year-old mother died in the recovery room following an emergency operation. As a result, Penny and her two sisters never had a chance to say good-bye: A few months later, I was in bed one evening, not really asleep – just lying there thinking. I heard the phone ring two or three times at about 11:30. I jumped out of bed and answered it. On the other end was my mother!

She said, “How are you girls doing? I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye. You girls behave yourself and take care of each other. I love you and I’ll be watching over you.” It was like she was happy and wanted us to go on with our lives. I was so happy to be hearing from her. Yet I kept thinking, “This can’t be happening. I know my mother is dead.” About that time, my father came around the door and asked, “Who were you talking to?” I said, “I know you aren’t going to believe this, Dad, but I was talking to Mom.”

Then he said, “Penny, you know Mom passed away. You must be upset or you must have been dreaming.” I said, “No, Dad, I’m wide awake!” He came over and took the phone from me. On the other end there was a dead silence as if someone was listening. We looked at each other and I said, “I don’t understand how this happened, but I know why it did. Mom wanted to say good-bye.” Later my father and I sat down and discussed everything. He said he knew I was upset about my mother passing away. He felt it was hard for me to accept her death and thought that maybe I needed some professional help.

So I spoke to the pastor of our church and told him of my experience. After this conversation, he told Dad he believed this really did happen to me because I was so sincere, mentally and emotionally. After that, Dad just dropped the subject. No one will ever convince me that it wasn’t my mother on the telephone that night. I always knew I had to listen to my heart and my own conscience and say, “Yes, this really did happen to me.”

The final account in this chapter is from Hilda, who was contacted by her 82-year-old father about 2 weeks after he died from cancer. Coincidentally, she is currently employed in Florida as a telephone operator: We didn’t have telephone service for two days because they were widening a two-lane street into a four-lane highway behind our house. We had a crew of telephone people in our backyard, and all the wires were disconnected and lying on the ground. My seventeen-year-old daughter, Greta, and I were at home watching TV when the telephone rang. I have three extension phones in my house, and Greta answered the kitchen phone – the only one that rang. She kept saying, “Hello? Hello?” But all she could hear was a sound like the ocean – like when you hold a large seashell up to your ear. So my daughter hung up.

Approximately ten minutes later, the telephone rang again – only that one phone. Greta picked it up and said, “Hello?” and heard the same noise. Ten minutes after that, the phone in the kitchen rang a third time, and this time I picked it up. At first I heard the same sound, like ocean waves, but then I could hear a voice coming closer and closer.

I heard my father saying, “Hilda, Hilda, I love you.” He only spoke Polish, and he told me how much he loved me. I kept calling, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! I love you too!” But as soon as he spoke, his voice began fading away and was gone. Just the sound of the ocean remained, and then the line was dead. I looked at Greta and she asked me, “Mother, what’s wrong? You look as white as a sheet!” I said, “I just heard Grandpa talking to me!”

I ran outside and spoke to the engineer in charge of the phone crew and asked him, “Are we having telephone service again?” He said, “No, ma’am. The wires are still lying here, and you won’t have any service until tomorrow.” I said, “Are you sure? I just received a telephone call. Is it possible that they may have done something from the main office?” He said, “No, ma’am. There’s no possibility of that whatsoever.” He looked at me kind of strangely, and I felt I had better go back in the house before he thought I was crazy.

My daughter was right there with me when the phone rang three times. So I have a witness that I received a phone call from my father – when there was no telephone service whatsoever. I don’t know what to think of all this, but I know it wasn’t something imaginary.