The In-Between: Part Two Exploration of the Transition Between Life and Death Part 3 of 3

06/27/2026

As I continued my research in an effort to gain a deeper understanding of what happens when we die, I found myself wanting to hear from as many different perspectives as possible. My goal wasn't to prove anyone right or wrong. I simply wanted to understand how different people viewed the transition between life and death and how they arrived at those conclusions.

At this point, I had already spoken with Mr. Mac, whose perspective was rooted firmly in his Christian faith. I had also caught back up with Priscilla after our unexpected encounter at Walmart, where she shared her experiences as a medium. As different as their perspectives were, I still found myself wanting to explore further.

I decided to search locally for a psychic. After calling around, I eventually reached a woman who introduced herself as Sister Mary.

Before getting into the reason for my call, she asked me for my name and a little information about myself. She explained that names have power and that they help her get a sense of the person she's speaking with.

I'll admit, I was a little reluctant at first.

Part of me wondered if I should really be giving personal information to someone I had never met. I even had the thought that perhaps she could simply look me up later and use that information however she wanted.

Oddly enough, though, there was a certain peace over me during the conversation.

That concern quickly faded, and I decided to continue.

Looking back, she never attempted to tell me hidden details about my life or impress me with psychic revelations. Instead, the conversation simply became two people discussing one of life's oldest questions.

She eventually asked me why I had called.

I explained that I was trying to finish this three-part series and wanted to gain a deeper understanding of what happens after we leave our bodies. I told her about my mother's passing, the questions that had been following me ever since, and the strange shimmering presence I witnessed during her final moments.

After listening to everything I had to say, she told me she could tell I had been exploring this subject very deeply.

I laughed.

"You're absolutely right," I told her. "I'm quite the spelunker."

When something captures my attention, I don't just skim the surface. I want to understand it. I keep asking questions. I keep digging until I feel like I have a better grasp of whatever it is I'm trying to learn.

That's when she asked me if I had ever heard the old saying, "Curiosity killed the cat."

She went on to tell me that she had a feeling I probably wasn't going to stop exploring anyway.

She wasn't wrong.

As our conversation continued, she explained that there are many different beliefs surrounding death. She mentioned ideas involving spirits, veils, dimensions, timelines, and other concepts that people have discussed for generations. Then she gently brought the conversation back to one central thought.

Maybe I had explored this subject deeply enough for now.

She told me that if God wanted me to know certain things, those answers would eventually find me. There was no need to force them.

That statement stayed with me.

I then asked her the question that had been on my mind since the day my mother passed away.

"What happens when we die?"

She told me she believed my mother was with God.

When I asked whether we're immediately with God the moment we leave our bodies, she explained that there are different beliefs surrounding that question. Some believe the transition is immediate. Others believe there can be a period of travel before fully crossing over. She mentioned that some cultures believe spirits may travel for a period of time before continuing on.

She also reminded me that the subject is incredibly broad and that there are many ideas surrounding what happens after death.

Then I described something that has never left my mind.

I told her about the strange shimmering presence I witnessed in my mother's room during her final moments.

I asked her why I couldn't seem to reach my mother.

I asked why I felt almost repelled from entering the room, why I closed the bedroom door without understanding why I had done it, and why, after I opened the office door, Monkey immediately ran straight toward my mother's room.

She told me she believed Monkey was simply doing what cats do. According to her, cats are protectors, and she believed he was doing his job.

Then I asked the question I had been carrying ever since that day.

"What was that shimmering presence?"

Without hesitation, she said you know what that was. I said, "Death?" She said, "Yes."

She added that it isn't necessarily something evil.

Not necessarily something bad.

Simply... death.

When I conveyed that I had hoped it had been something more angelic, she reminded me that those ideas don't necessarily have to contradict one another.

She also told me she believed what I had witnessed was the veil.

Then, she returned to the same advice she had given me earlier.

Maybe I should stop exploring this subject so deeply.

Maybe it was time to focus more on living than trying to understand every mystery surrounding death.

Before we ended our conversation, she left me with two warnings that have stayed with me.

The first was to be careful who I spoke with during this journey. She believed that not everyone exploring these subjects has good intentions and that some people could lead me into dark places.

The second warning was more personal.

She told me she believed I had already gone very deep into this subject and cautioned me not to go any deeper. She believed dark spirits were already around me because I was exploring things I perhaps wasn't meant to explore. Whether someone agrees with that belief or not, those were her sincere thoughts, and I appreciated her honesty in sharing them with me.

Before we ended our conversation, Sister Mary shared a little about herself. She told me she was originally from the Midwest and spoke about her grandmother, who had raised her much like a mother. Having experienced that kind of loss herself, she told me she understood what it feels like to lose someone so close.

She also shared that she had witnessed many deaths throughout her life and believed she had seen that same shimmering presence before. That was one of the reasons she felt confident in telling me that what I had witnessed in my mother's room was what she believed to be the veil.

Whether someone agrees with her interpretation or not, I appreciated that she wasn't trying to impress me with psychic abilities or make the conversation about herself. It felt less like speaking with someone claiming to have extraordinary powers and more like talking to someone who genuinely cared, listened, and simply shared what she believed from her own experiences.

Before we hung up, we thanked each other for the conversation. She told me to call her anytime if I ever wanted to talk again, and I told her the same. When I got off the phone, I found myself thinking about everything she had shared... and still wanting to know more.

As I sat there reflecting on our conversation, I couldn't help but wonder if she was right.

Maybe I was walking the edge.

Maybe I was asking questions I wasn't meant to have answers to—not yet.

Or maybe, as she suggested earlier, if God wanted me to know those answers, they would eventually find me instead of the other way around.

Even after all of that...

I still wanted to understand more.

More perspectives.

More experiences.

More ways of looking at one of humanity's oldest questions.

The spelunking needed to continue.

Not because I was trying to prove anyone wrong, and not because I doubted what she believed. I simply wanted to understand how different people viewed one of life's greatest mysteries.

Up until this point, I had spoken with Christians, a medium, and someone who identified herself as a psychic. While their perspectives differed in many ways, they all believed there was something beyond this life.

So I decided to intentionally seek out viewpoints that challenged my own.

I opened TikTok and searched for "atheists explain death."

The first creator I came across was Lydia Joans.

She wasn't trying to argue against religion or tell people they shouldn't believe in an afterlife. Instead, she shared a story about a coworker who had lost her son in a tragic accident. From there, she explained that many people assume atheists must view death as meaningless simply because they don't believe in life after death.

Her perspective was almost the opposite.

She explained that life's temporary nature is exactly what gives it value. She compared it to a sunset, a song, or childhood. None of those things last forever, but that doesn't make them less meaningful. If anything, she argued, their impermanence makes them even more precious.

She also spoke about how the people we love continue living through the memories they leave behind, the lessons they teach us, and the ways they shape who we become. In her words, love leaves neurological fingerprints that remain with us long after someone is gone.

While I don't personally share all of her conclusions, I genuinely appreciated hearing her perspective. I wasn't searching for confirmation. I was searching for understanding.

Wanting another atheist's perspective, I continued scrolling and came across another creator named Promise.

She approached the question much more directly.

Her response began with what she believed was the most honest answer possible.

"We really don't know."

She explained that, from her perspective, no one has truly died and returned to tell us what happens afterward. She also spoke about near-death experiences, explaining that she views them as experiences occurring while the brain is still active rather than evidence of what comes after death.

Her conclusion was that death is probably similar to what existed before we were born—simply nothingness. Yet she didn't present that idea as depressing. Instead, she explained that if this life is the only one we know we have, then every relationship, every conversation, and every opportunity to love someone becomes even more valuable because we don't get another chance.

Again, I found myself appreciating the perspective, even though I didn't fully agree with it.

By this point I realized I wasn't collecting answers.

I was collecting perspectives.

There was still one viewpoint I wanted to hear.

The agnostic.

I searched for "agnostics explain death" and came across Dr. Todd Phillips, a former megachurch pastor who no longer identifies as a Christian.

His answer surprised me.

Rather than confidently saying there is an afterlife or confidently saying there isn't, he simply admitted something many people struggle to say.

"I don't know."

He explained that losing the certainty he once had was one of the hardest parts of leaving his faith. At first, that uncertainty made life feel smaller and darker because heaven had once felt like a promise. Over time, however, something changed.

Instead of uncertainty making life feel meaningless, it made this life feel even more precious. He even described it as more sacred because every moment, every relationship, and every opportunity to simply be present mattered more.

He also explained that while he no longer claims certainty about what comes after death, he remains curious about consciousness and open to the possibility that reality may be bigger than what we can perceive with our five senses.

I appreciated his honesty.

He wasn't trying to convince me that he had the answers.

He was simply comfortable admitting that he didn't.

After listening to Christians, a medium, a psychic, two atheists, and an agnostic, I finally felt like I had gathered what I had been searching for.

Not answers.

Perspectives.

Now it was time to step back and ask myself where I stood after listening to all of them.

Resources referenced in this section:

• Lydia Joans (Atheist Perspective)

• Promise (Atheist Perspective)

• Dr. Todd Phillips (Agnostic Perspective)

After listening to all of those perspectives, I found myself doing what I've been doing ever since my mother passed away.

Thinking.

Trying to make sense of something that perhaps isn't meant to be fully understood from this side of existence.

What surprised me most wasn't how different everyone's conclusions were.

It was how often they overlapped.

Mr. Mac never dismissed the possibility that someone outside of Christianity could have a meaningful experience. Priscilla never criticized Christianity. Sister Mary continually pointed me back toward God, even while discussing ideas that many Christians might never entertain. The atheists rejected the idea of an afterlife, yet they still found profound meaning in love, relationships, and making this life count. The agnostic admitted he didn't know, but discovered that uncertainty made every moment even more valuable.

The conclusions were different.

But almost everyone I listened to agreed on one thing.

This life matters.

As for me, my faith hasn't changed.

I believe Jesus Christ is the Son of God.

I believe He was born, that He died for our sins, that He rose again, and that He sits at the right hand of the Father.

I also believe that one day we will stand before God.

What I've been searching for isn't whether eternity exists.

It's the transition.

What actually happens between our final breath and whatever comes next?

Does Scripture mean that we're immediately with the Lord?

Is there truly an in-between?

Do some souls linger for a time?

Or am I simply trying to apply human logic to something that exists completely outside of human understanding?

The truth is...

I don't know.

And maybe none of us truly know the exact process.

We have our beliefs.

We have our faith.

We have our experiences.

Some of us have Scripture.

Some of us have personal encounters.

Some of us simply admit that we don't know.

As for me, I lean toward what Mr. Mac shared from Scripture—that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. At the same time, I can also understand why people have different interpretations or experiences surrounding that transition.

Maybe I'm simply trying to make logic out of something that isn't meant to be understood through human logic.

Sister Mary warned me that perhaps I had gone deep enough.

She told me to be careful who I listened to because not everyone exploring these subjects has good intentions.

She also believed that if God wanted me to know certain things, those answers would eventually find me.

I haven't forgotten those words.

Truthfully...

I'm still quite the spelunker.

When something captures my curiosity, I naturally want to understand it. That's simply the way I'm wired.

Whether that's a strength or a weakness...

I don't know.

As I continued researching, I also found myself revisiting Dr. Joe Dispenza's discussions about the quantum field and the possibility that there is far more information existing beyond what our physical senses perceive. Whether his conclusions are correct or not isn't really my point. What fascinated me was how often people from completely different backgrounds seemed to acknowledge that there may be far more to reality than what we currently understand.

Does that prove anything?

No.

It simply reminds me how much remains unknown.

Looking back now, I don't think this investigation was ever only about death.

I think it was about trying to understand loss.

My mother's passing opened questions I had never really asked before.

Then came more loss.

Lloyd.

John.

My cousin LD.

Dr. Perry.

Leilani.

And even Ozzy Osbourne.

I know that may sound strange to some people because I never knew Ozzy personally, but I grew up with his music. Like so many others, he became part of the soundtrack of my life. His passing reminded me once again just how temporary this life really is.

Ironically, one of the songs that kept coming back into my mind throughout this investigation was his song, I Don't Know.

Maybe that's exactly where I am.

I don't know.

But what I do know is that I'm grateful for the people who are still here.

It's just me, my dad, and Monkey now. They're my immediate family, and I don't take that for granted. I'm also grateful for my other loved ones I've connected with throughout life. Not all family is blood.

If you're in my life in some way, just know that I love you and I care about you. We shouldn't let too much time go by between one another. Time is precious, and so is the time we have together while we're here.

Maybe none of us truly know the exact nature of the transition between this life and whatever comes next.

We believe.

We hope.

We have faith.

We have experiences.

But perhaps the details of that final transition are something we simply aren't meant to fully understand while we're still here.

Maybe that's okay.

Maybe this investigation wasn't really about solving the mystery of the afterlife.

Maybe it was simply another step toward healing.

Someone close to me recently told me they believed I was healing, even if I couldn't see it myself.

Healing, they reminded me, rarely happens all at once.

It happens quietly.

Gradually.

Almost without us noticing.

Maybe they're right.

And maybe, when my own journey here is finished, I'll finally understand everything I've spent so much time wondering about.

Until then...

I'll keep my faith.

I'll keep asking questions.

I'll keep living.

And I'll leave you with the words of someone whose music meant a great deal to me throughout my life.

"See you on the other side."