Synopsis

The Shared Death Experience (SDE). Most people know of the Near Death Experience (NDE), but very few have heard of the SDE. The SDE is similar to the NDE except that it occurs not to the person who is dying, but to a loved one who is physically well. That person could be sitting right next to their loved one, sitting across the room, or even across the globe unaware of the impending death of someone they love. Location or activity level is of no consequence to the SDE. That person is “invited along” to witness the aftermath of physical death. The invitation extended has no RSVP–the person accompanying the dying individual can neither accept nor refuse–they are just “taken” or “given” the experience by powers outside of their control.

Becoming Starlight is one of those stories. Deeply embedded in Starlight is an ongoing war with death, faith and hope– and with God–a war most of us have experienced or will experience in our lifetimes.

Becoming Starlight is a story that has been written, in one way or another, since the beginning of time. The war between life and death–who lives and who dies is at the heart of this deeply personal experience. It’s a life-and-death struggle with spiritual darkness and loss of faith. It is a story not unlike the stories of anyone who has loved and lost, grieved and sorrowed, felt anguish and rage, fallen from Grace and questioned the very existence of God. The specifics are different, but the humanity splattered on every page is the stuff of life. Some find redemption more easily than I. It took a complete fall from grace for me to awaken from the darkness that had found its way into my life, and an unexpected encounter – a SDE — to bring me into the very arms of a compassionate God. “Becoming Starlight” is the “Lifting of the Veil” that led to a peek into foreverness.

Praise

“Becoming Starlight is truly sensational; everybody who is seriously interested in the question of life after death should read it.” — Raymond Moody, M.D., Ph.D., author of Life After Life, Reunions, and Glimpses of Eternity

“In Becoming Starlight, Dr. Sharon Prentice describes the deeply human losses and hurts that gave birth to a vision of our true identity and place in this universe. Her life-changing—and life-giving—encounter with the divine simply had to be shared. This book is a gift.” —Seth J. Gillihan, Ph.D., author of A Mindful Year and The CBT Deck, and Psychology Today contributor

“Dr. Sharon Prentice, in her book Becoming Starlight, assists all of humanity by transmuting our collective fear of death into love when she journeys to that mysterious place we call Heaven and returns to share her experiences with us. This messenger is worth listening to.” — Tim Miejan, editor of The Edge Magazine

“In Becoming Starlight, the author teaches us the most important lesson of all—that love is the eternal fiber connecting all existence, living and beyond. Her extraordinary true story provides faith and ease to all who wonder what happens when our loved ones or we die.”  —Randi Fine, Author of Close Encounters of the Worst Kind, Podcast Host of A Fine Time for Healing

“A magnificent reckoning with love, death, God, and the unexplainable universe that surrounds us all. From living through devastating heartbreak to cracking wide open with indescribable awe, Becoming Starlight is a deeply personal story on where we can find peace, solace, and stillness in the world of grief.”  —Shelby Forsythia, Intuitive Grief Guide and Podcast Host of Coming Back: Conversations on Life After Loss

“Sharon’s experience is probably the most extensive and beautiful shared-death experience I’ve come across. And the struggles she experienced in her life demonstrate that no matter how hopeless life seems, all of us are loved by God, infinitely. Becoming Starlight is more than just the missing link in near-death literature (which it is), and more than just powerful evidence of the afterlife (which it also is), it’s a testament to the power, potential, and infinite worth of the human soul.”  — Chas Hathaway, Host of the Near-Death Experience Podcast

Guest Post

The Myth of Closure After Loss

by Sharon Prentice,

Author of Becoming Starlight: Surviving Grief and Mending the Wounds of Loss

“This wasn’t supposed to happen! Tell me why this has happened!” These are the spoken words of countless bereaved parents throughout countless years in countless languages. A never ending and always present wound in the Souls of those who have buried their children.

Parental grief is forever boundless; an ever present, deep-seated wound that has no name. There’s a reason no label has been ascribed to those who have lost a child — it is too foreign a concept, a much too chaotic form of brain freeze, an enormously frightening emotion for any language in the world to even consider naming.

Within that foreign concept lies the heart of the matter — losing a child is the most frightening, unspeakable, unresolvable and ultimately the most devastating deprivation of a lifetime. It is disorienting, unimaginable and is the most unacknowledged universal trauma of them all.

It is the very nature of this grief that makes the concept of “closure” almost laughable. Psychology tells us to look to “closure” as a way to live within this boundless grief. Finding the “certainty” we need to make things whole again is supposed to exist within this concept so easily spoken of by well-meaning friends and therapists. The need for cognitive closure (NFCC) is supposed to provide us with an ending to all ambiguity and bring us certainty. Within that certainty, we should find freedom from all the questions that live and breed in our lives as to “why” our child had to die. Problem is — most parents see their child’s death as multi-factional. It wasn’t just the child that was lost, it was the parent as well. The parents lose their way in the world and the entire premise of how the universe operates is shaken to its core. There is a natural order in life, a death order, if you will. First, it’s the grandparents, then the parents. All should pass from this world in the natural order of life events. At least, that’s what we think. But it doesn’t happen that way in “real” life.  Children die and the overwhelming loss that becomes the new way of living in the world is never one for which “closure” exists. The feeling of having “lost a limb” becomes a life wound, a Soul wound that never heals.

There truly is no definition for exactly what this form of grief “feels” like. It is a wrenching sadness and a despair from which recovery cannot be found in any form of what we call “closure” except that which can, somehow, reach deep within the recesses of what we know as Spirit and start a healing process that acknowledges the fact that life isn’t fair, that we never really “get over” this kind of loss, that we keep on breathing and that children do die. Trying to accept our, and our children’s mortality, trying to accept all that has been or will be or can never be again, deciding how we will honor our child and keep them “alive” within our family, and trying to accept the fact that death is part and parcel of all life may be the key to survival for those parents who suffer endlessly with questions for which there are no answers. But there is never certainty, never total acceptance and never closure in our collective human condition that keeps us from fully accepting all these things. And, perhaps, an even larger impediment to consider can be found within the parents need to “keep and maintain” the relationship with the lost child. Holding onto the grief, many times becomes a staple in the need to maintain that relationship. As if letting go of the grief means letting go of the relationship and losing their child all over again. Maintaining the relationship within the grief experienced at the time of death can become all important to a bereaved parent. Those final moments may be all that can be “felt” because anything else — memories of the good, the bad, and everything-in-between can become tangled up with unanswerable questions and lead to the could of’s, should of’s and if only’s of having no future with the lost child. Losing a future together can be and, often is just as devastating as is the actual physical death of that child. Even thinking of closure as a possibility then becomes some foreign notion that will never be considered because it is seen as a complete loss of all relationship, past and future.

Healing from the death of a child is a lifetime journey. If there is any healing at all!  And looking for “closure” does one thing and one thing only — it simply grounds you in the very thing that you are trying to heal within your very damaged and wounded Soul. I mean, life is hard stuff. It presents itself in the light of day and the dark of night in varying shades of joy and despair-all in the same day. Life is amazing. Then it’s not. It’s mundane. Then it’s horrific. You can’t out-run it any more than you can defeat it. You can’t change it without changing yourself, your environment and your very Spirit. You can deny it and try to hide from the realities of it for a while until it catches up to you, which it always does! Life can be messy and painful and joyful and filled with grief and laughter all at the same time! Don’t try to plot it on a straight path, you will lose every time!

All you can do is look within and try to accept the mortality of all things. Then decide how you will be “in this world’ and how you will honor those you love while trying to figure out how to honor yourself again. Forgetting isn’t an option. No drug, no mind-bending herb, no (as the song says) “wishing and hoping and thinking and dreaming” will take you back into that “before time.” That moment in time is forever gone. There is now only the “after time” to be dealt with and incorporated into what is remaining…and what that “remaining” stuff is, well, that’s up to the survivors to decide for themselves.

About the Author

Dr. Sharon Prentice is a psychotherapist and spiritual counselor whose work focuses on helping patients process the grief of losing a loved one. Becoming Starlight is her memoir of healing from the devastating loss of her daughter and husband. She experienced a unique spiritual experience, known as a Shared Death Experience (SDE) which gave her a peek into foreverness and a sense of peace that was otherworldly.

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