I have heard and read a hundred times that death is just like moving from one room to another, from one dimension to another, from one frequency to another. But I have yet to experience it to know the truth.
I have lost people and pets over the years, but I never truly understood what happened. I saw a body, still and cold. I saw it being buried. And then, there was no body to see. But something stayed intact. The memory. The feeling of presence. The presence.
I could never convince myself that a person or pet I loved was no longer in the same room with me. No matter how much I tried to imagine them stepping into another room, I never truly felt that separation. If I pay attention, I can still sense them. A person, a pet once held dear is still dear.
It is easy to believe they are still in their house, watching TV, eating, sleeping, arguing, doing all the normal things they used to do. It feels natural. So I wonder: is death really like stepping into another room? No. They are still here, in this room with the living. I believe they exist on a different frequency, in a dimension more complex than our three-dimensional perception.
And yet, they sit with you in the living room. They lie next to you in bed. Every room is crowded with people, those you have loved and lost, and those who died long before you were born. One day, we will all meet in that frequency.
So we should never feel desperate, lonely, or hopeless when someone leaves this frequency, not this room. And I am sure they must be happier than us.