On August 11, 2012 my Dad, Brian Klepinger, died unexpectedly. He decided to have some elective surgery and ended up with a major infection that ultimately shut down all of his vital organs. You never know what is going to happen in life, unless of course, if you are psychic…

The last time I talked to my dad was just less than a month before he died. It was mid July and my daughter and I were preparing to leave on a two-week trip to Europe to celebrate her high school graduation. He called me from his home in Colorado to wish us well and to let me know that he had decided to have this surgery while I’d be out of the country. I immediately had a bad feeling. I questioned him on the necessity of the surgery and if he was clear about the potential complications.

He explained that yes he felt the surgery was necessary. He loved to travel around the world and especially to remote out of the way places. Earlier in the year he narrowly escaped having a debilitating diverticulitis attack in the middle of some South American jungle. Fortunately the pain began just a day before he was to leave, so he ended up missing the trip and opting for an extended hospital stay.

He also assured me that any complications were minor and that there was nothing to be worried about. I continued to pepper him with questions and he seemed to have an answer for every one of them. Finally I told him that I hoped that it would turn out the way he had hoped and that I’d be really mad if he died while I was out of the country.

He was true to his word – he didn’t die while I was out of the country, he waited 9 days until after I returned. I called him the day I arrived back in the US and his 3rd wife told me he was home, asleep on the couch and needed his rest. She’d have him call me over the weekend. He didn’t call. By Monday he was experiencing severe pain and was readmitted to the hospital. I flew out as soon as I could and by the time I arrived in Denver on Wednesday morning, he was intubated and unconscious.

I am continually amazed at how unaware I am of what I’m aware of – I had a really bad feeling about the surgery and even though I tried to impress that upon my Dad, I never came out and said, “You are going to die.” Frankly I don’t know if that is what I should have done or if it’s even my right to say something like that to someone. Ultimately, it’s all about free will and free choice.

In my book, which is being released this summer, Art of Living Happy, I talk about the experience of him passing over:

Within 15 minutes the nurses had prepared him by removing his breathing tubes and the IV’s. We stepped into the cubicle. His wife and I each held one of his hands and my brother put his hand on my dad’s leg. I closed my eyes and immediately got a picture in my mind of what was happening. I explained what I was seeing to them.

“I see him above us, smiling. He wants us to know that he loves us and that he’s sorry for everything that happened. He loves you so much and wants to thank you for taking such good care of him.” I directed this toward his wife. “And Eric, he is telling you that he is proud of you and me too. I see a great light and he’s moving toward it. I see him reuniting with Grandma and Grandpa. It’s such a beautiful sight. The feeling of love is overwhelming.” Tears were streaming down my face, not from sadness but from joy – the joy of seeing him transition and entering the kingdom of love.

No matter how many issues you have with someone, death seems to melt them away. I found that my feelings of loss overwhelmed all of the other feelings that I had felt for my father throughout my life. I felt at peace with my father, maybe for the first time.

That was true until two days later when we arrived at the attorney’s office…

Yes, going to the attorney’s office changed everything. I was faced with more life lessons in which I discovered a lot more about myself. Including the fact that I do have a dark side, a very dark side.

Meanwhile my dad has been coming to me in various ways:

He came through as a vision to one of my clients, while we were in the middle of a healing session.

He showed himself to a friend of mine in her dream. She visualized my house and saw him sitting on the couch. A month later she came to my home for a dinner party and was shocked as my house was exactly what she saw in her dream – she had never been here before.

During a recent training weekend, my mentor channeled a message from him to me. Everyone else got messages from Buddha, Jesus and other ascended masters – thanks Dad!

He’s contacted me twice through a well-known medium, Roland Comtois, at two different events where only a handful of people were given messages.

He’s come through to my brother’s girlfriend in a healing session she had with a gifted energy healer.

He’s woken me up and had me write 2 pages of channeled information.

Not to mention, he’s always leaving me signs – usually in the form of cigarette smoke or white butterflies whenever I happen to be thinking of him.

Needless to say, he is making up for lost time. I’m glad that he has finally seen the light and that he is reaching out to me since his passing. I just wish he had been more open in this lifetime, so we could have healed our issues as we went rather than trying to do it all now.

This is another reason why I wrote my book, Art of Living Happy. I’m hoping it will inspire people to wake up and deal with their issues before they die. It’s so important to connect truthfully and openly with your loved ones on every level while you are alive and able to do so. I also know how difficult it is to discuss estate planning and what will happen when your loved ones dies, but let me tell you, it’s much easier to have some heated discussions now rather than to be left with a potential bomb that could blow your world up – like mine was. Don’t wait – we are all going to die, so get your affairs in order, or if you have parents, bring up the subject and sort out the issues so that everyone can be happy.

How about you? Have you had a bombshell explode after the death of a loved one? Have you been contacted by a loved one who has passed over? Are you looking to connect to your loved ones? Are you stuck or need help moving forward? Leave me your comments – I love discussing these issues.

Love and Blessings, ~Lisa

My life has been filled with a lot of drama. I was adopted at birth, molested as a 4 year old, date raped at 16 and physically abused by a boyfriend during my college years, which resulted in a fractured skull. I lived in San Francisco during the 1989 earthquake, and survived the fires of the Berkeley Hills in 1991. My father in law dropped dead of a heart attack while visiting our home in 1992 and our daughter was born with her esophagus not attached to her stomach in 1993. Not to mention the death of my husband when I was 37. I could go on, but I won’t. Whenever I’d share a few of these details with people I would always get the same response, “Wow, you should write a book!”

Well, I did. I started writing it soon after my husband, Ian, died from cancer in 2004. It started out as a memoir about my life up until Ian’s death. However, once I met, started dating and ultimately married my second husband, David, I put the book down, wanting to concentrate on all the happiness I was experiencing. For the first time, I felt I could fully embrace life and not dwell on past traumas.

In the fall of 2011, I decided I had to share my story. Since Ian’s death, I’d had such a dramatic shift, having given up accounting, started connecting to angels and the spirit world, and was coaching other people, both individuals and groups.

When I revisited the book this time, I focused the beginning on Ian’s death and my spiritual awakening the very moment he passed. It took me over a year and a half and I’m finally done! I could have never done it without my book coach, Caroline Allen from Art of Storytelling. If you have a desire to write a book, Caroline is the coach for you. My book is currently with my editor for the final polishing with the expected publication to be early summer of this year.

To give you an idea of what I’ve written in my book Art of Living Happy, here is an excerpt about my experience of connecting to the angels:

One of the girls, Barb, lived in London. She came to my home for a visit. We were chatting and she asked me if she could ask the angels a question. I told her I’d have to get a pad and pencil.
“Can’t I just ask the question, and then you just directly tell me the answer? Without writing it down? You know, just speak what they say?”
“I’ve never thought of doing that before. Ok, let’s give it a try.”
We sat on the floor in the guest room, crossed-legged and facing each other. I closed my eyes and said, “Ok, what’s your question?”
Barb said, “I want to know about the direction of my life. Am I on the right path?”
Suddenly, I felt as though a train dropped on top of my head. I felt this huge rush of energy pouring right into that spot.
“Welcome, Barb. We are glad you are here and are very happy to answer your question.” My voice sounded like a robot, mechanical and halting. “We want you to know that you are on your path and that…” The energy wouldn’t stop. My teeth started to chatter and I felt as though I was floating or being lifted off of the ground. My entire body was vibrating and my neck became stiff. No words were coming out; a rush of energy, like a lightning bolt, was coming through the top of my head.
I called out to Barb, “Make them stop! Make them go away!” I tried to push the words out of my mouth, because I felt as though I had no control over my body. “Tell them to go away!”
Barb said, “Stop! Angels, leave Lisa’s body now! She wants you to leave.”
As quickly as the energy rushed in, it rushed out. I felt light-headed and disoriented.
“Oh, my god, Lisa. Are you ok?” Barb asked.
I rubbed my forehead. “Oh God, I’m ok. I just need some water. That was crazy. I’ve never felt that way before. It was a rush, but scary too.”
Having the angel energy enter my body was mind-blowing. When I wrote down their messages on paper, the energy felt lightly connected; yet, when I opened myself up to channel the message through my voice, it was as though I became an untethered live electrical wire. The experience reminded of the time I touched the glowing red wire in a toaster with a knife.

In writing my book my goal was to not only tell my story, but to help support others who happen to find themselves in a similar situation. The more I share my story the more people I am connecting with who have had their own struggle. I had felt so alone and now I’m finding a whole community of people who understand where I have been or who are just starting out and appreciate the support they are finding from my experiences.

I’d love to know if you have ever had a psychic experience? Please leave me a comment below and tell me all about it. I find all of this so fascinating – and the best part is now I get to help people all over the world connect to spirit and help them with any issue that they are dealing with, so they can live a happier life. Let me know how I can help you.

Love and Blessings, ~Lisa

This blog post is part 1 of a 4 part series.  I thought this series may be helpful to anyone who is facing the death of a loved one or knows anyone that has passed away.  At times you may find it difficult to read, yet in the end I hope you can see the inspiration and gratitude I found in this 24 hour period.
Blessings ~Lisa

It was about 10pm, I had gone upstairs to get ready for bed.  Ian was sleeping peacefully as I walked by the bed to go to the bathroom.  I turned the water on and let it run to get hot.  I looked at myself in the mirror and thought I got through another day.  I wasn’t surprised by what I saw, dark circles under my eyes, gaunt cheeks, pasty white skin and haunted eyes.  I gazed at the reflection and noticed that the waist of my pants was bunched up where the leather belt had drawn the belt loops close together so my jeans didn’t fall down.  I had lost about 15 pounds since we had arrived home three months ago.  Given the fact that I didn’t have any weight to lose on my 5’6” frame I looked on the verge of anorexia.  Food had lost its taste and I had more important things to take care of each day.  My dirty blond, shoulder length hair needed highlighting, my dark roots were beginning to show more than I liked, but leaving the house for a 2 hour event wasn’t going to happen.  As I stared into the mirror, I lost myself.  I had crawled into the mirror and burrowed into the blue hollows of my eyes.  I stared and stared back.  I didn’t recognize myself and yet I knew who I was and what I had to do – I just didn’t want to do it anymore.  I wanted to run and never come back, but I knew who I was and I knew that I was in this for the long haul, no matter what that meant.  Till death do us part.

My acting days... before Ian's final days.

I brushed my teeth feeling the bristles on my gums thinking of what was to come.  As I washed my face, the hot water felt good and bad at the same time.  Good because it made me feel something, bad because it felt like a flame licking my face.  Such routine in such chaos.  I went to the closet and pulled on a t-shirt and some flannel pajama bottoms.  After getting my night clothes on I turned to walk back into the bedroom.  The bedside lamp on Ian’s side was on and the rest of the room was dim.  The two windows on either side of the king sized bed were closed and the curtains were drawn.  I couldn’t believe that our bedroom had been turned into a hospital room in the last few hours.  There was the boxed air mattress on one side of the bed, which I would have to figure out how to use and place on Ian’s side of the bed in the morning.  Also there was the freshly delivered plastic covered shower chair and walker which were pushed into the corner by the television.   A bedside commode was also brought over, which I was thankful for because I didn’t think Ian would be able to ever walk to the bathroom again.   The oxygen compressor was on and making a loud whirring noise.  Ian didn’t seem to be bothered by the noise, and I was so relieved that he was getting the fresh clean oxygen that he needed.  I walked to his bedside.  I had showered him earlier in the day, which I never thought I would be able to do.  The thought of it felt so demeaning for both Ian and me and yet when I took him into the shower and washed his shrunken 125 pound body, the reality of it became beautiful and lovely.  He was a man returned to a child.  He sat innocently, depending on me to clean his body.  He had been a robust 230 pound man 7 years earlier, before being diagnosed with Lymphoma.

Ian on our wedding day

As my eyes wondered over the king sized bed with the cream and tan satin duvet cover, which we had purchased almost two years prior for our ten year anniversary, I caught sight of the new wedding band on Ian’s finger that I had given him a week ago as a surprise Valentine’s Day gift.  His fingers had gotten so small due to his continued weight loss that his original wedding band was swimming on his ring finger and he finally had to put it in a safe place so it wouldn’t be lost.  He had mentioned once or twice over the years that he had wished he had gotten a yellow and white gold band, as it would have been more versatile. I decided that I would get him a yellow gold and platinum band, one that would really last.  It seemed extravagant, as it cost over $1,000 and yet when I handed him the gift and he fumbled to open the ribbon wrapped package and saw what lay within, the tears in his eyes made every penny worth the expense.  He was so grateful to be able to show his love for me by wearing his new ring.

I continued to follow my gaze up to Ian’s sunken face.  He looked serene and ravaged at the same time.  He was in no pain while sleeping which was a blessing.  Yet his face showed the stress and stain of fighting this terrible disease.  The scar on his neck seemed to grow as his body shrunk.  It was the original sight of the lymphoma, a swollen lymph gland which after removal never healed properly and left an angry scar.  He had undergone 3 bone marrow transplants, one a year after his initial diagnosis, which was in 1997, and two more during our 7 month stay in Seattle, where we lived with our two children in a hotel for over seven months so that Ian could get the best cancer treatment in the country.  He had also undergone hundreds of countless horrific experiences trying to fight his way out of this terrible type of hell.  His cheeks were sunken, his brown hair a wisp of its former self, his skin sallow and hanging.  His mouth had become distorted; his teeth seemed disproportionally too big for his small face.  It was almost as if his skull was peering out from beneath his skin.  At the time all of these changes had happened so gradually that it didn’t seem so striking.  I could really only tell when we went out in public and saw the way people would stare at us, then reality was brought home to me  – that things weren’t right.  I bent over and kissed Ian’s forehead, “Goodnight my love, sleep well.”

Life After Death

Ian Sharpe

The art of living after the death of a loved one is quite challenging, to say the least.  I lost my husband, Ian Sharpe at the age of 44.  He died after a seven year battle with lymphoma.  His struggle included three stem cell transplants, a one month hospital stay at Sloan Kettering Hospital in NYC, and a seven month visit to the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Care Alliance in Seattle, Washington.  Our family lived in a Marriott Residence Inn for the entire seven months!

Ian did have a four year remission in the middle of his battle, which allowed some time for creating lasting memories as a family.  Vacations at Disney World, attending Camp Sacramento – near Lake Tahoe in California, and the opportunity to coach Jenna and Robbie’s soccer teams were all enjoyed.  Unfortunately night sweats, fevers and weight loss crept back into our lives while celebrating our ten year wedding anniversary in Bermuda.  I knew at that moment that we were going to have a bad ending…

When Ian succumbed to death on February 22, 2004, I realized I was relieved.  I was relieved for him – his fight was long, painful and arduous.  I was also relieved for myself – I hate to admit it – but I was.  The task of caring for the dying is difficult and all consuming.

My mother arrived in Connecticut the day after his death and stayed with me for a couple of weeks.  I couldn’t eat, sleep or breath.  I was truly happy for him, as the pain and agony were over.  I was terrified for myself, I was alone with two kids – 8 and 10 years old.  We then all flew to Minnesota and stayed at my mom’s for a week.  It was nice to be away from the house.  It was comforting to be taken care of.  Our final week away, we went on a cruise to the Caribbean.  It was a family affair, as my brother’s family and my mom and her husband attended.  Being on the ocean, in warm breezes and surrounded by people that both loved and cared for me (my family) and by people that had no clue what had just happened to me was cleansing and refreshing.  It was nice to get away.

The scariest part was returning home to an empty house.  Opening the door would make it real – Ian not being there would be proof that he died and it was only me and the kids now.  It was dreadful.  But, I did it.  I stepped over that threshold and didn’t look back.  I made the decision that life would go on and that I needed to take charge.  Of course, I had my sad times and my fits of rage and frustration for being left here on this earth.  I kept myself busy with positive activities.  I took up Pilates and bought new clothes – I had been living in sweat pants for the two years before Ian died!  I met my friends for lunch even had my house Feng Shuied (an ancient Chinese art of arranging your possessions for positive life results).  The Feng Shui changed my life – many more blogs about that in the future!!!

It is now many years later, and I’ve never been happier.  I’ve remarried and my amazing, fabulous husband, David, adopted my children.  Ironically he always wanted children, but never wanted to do the baby thing – and he always wanted a son names Robert – yes my son’s name is Robert!  I’m also thrilled, as I am now pursuing my life long dream of helping others to achieve their happiness in life.

Losing a loved one is awful – but if you keep moving forward, while always remembering your loved one in your heart, and allowing their whispers of advice to guide your way, life can be even sweeter and happier – I guarantee it.

Love and Blessings! – Lisa