ON HIS DEATHBED, late in the final stages of debilitating Tuberculosis, Theodore Sewall spoke weakly to his attending wife, May, who leaned closer, the better to hear his rasping words. Strands of graying hair fell against the dampness of her tear-wet cheek.
“Listen a moment while I speak about what you refuse to see.” He paused, feebly drawing a faintly rattling breath. “You cannot believe that I am going.”
She slowly shook her head, tears flowing from her eyes.
His wasted fingers briefly pressed her hand, which desperately but gently clung to his.
Suppressing a cough, he continued--gasping for air between sentences, “I know it is inevitable. -- I wish now only to say -- if I discover that I survive death, -- the first thing I shall do -- will be to ascertain whether or not -- Jesus ever returned to earth -- after his crucifixion.”
For a second her breath caught, just short of a gasp. Involuntarily her eyes widened slightly in restrained astonishment.
Controlled though it had been, Theodore did not miss her reaction to his declaration. He nodded tiredly. “I know we have never believed it, -- but if I find that He actually did -- return to His disciples, -- I shall do nothing else --until I have succeeded in returning -- to you.”
For a moment his eyes focused intently on hers. His voice, already weak, softened as he added, “Unless, before that time -- you have come to me.”
His mouth quivered. Tears pooled in his eyes. He pressed her hand almost imperceptibly. The effort of speaking had exhausted him. She fell forward to lay her head lightly on his emaciated shoulder sobbing quietly.
“Oh Theodore, I would rather go with you now.” Wearily, his head moved against hers. He whispered, “No,” adding, barely audible, “You must wait.”
Theodore Sewall quietly slipped into a near-coma, barely conscious for two more weeks, capable only of the most limited responses to May’s loving care, as he gradually weakened and finally passed away two days before Christmas--December 23, 1895.
IN HER JOURNAL May Sewall wrote: “We desired immortality as most happy people do; we believed in it much as we believed in the indestructibility of matter, but we felt no certainty of the survival of the separated individual entity. Upon this point, our creed may be stated thus:
“As far as we know we have no responsibility for our birth into this life, but we have found it so good that we shall never leave it voluntarily. If, when we are removed from this plane, we continue on some other, we shall doubtless find it to be just as suited to our further happy development as this has been; and if we do not survive death, extinction will prevent all sense of loss.” --Neither Dead Nor Sleeping --p.34 Lacking either hope or expectation, May sensibly dropped all thought of Theodore’s promise, innocently unaware that although physically in his grave his immortal spirit remained faithfully close-by. In slightly over a year he was able to overcome her stubborn doubts and prove it to her. Those living, who care, need only to study “Neither Dead Nor Sleeping” to learn the how and why of inter-existence communication. It was accomplished between Theodore Sewall and his widowed wife, May, over one hundred years ago. The same means are available to us today. The language may be out of fashion but the message is as real and new as current explanations of the closely related Zero Point Field, recently acknowledged as the basic energy of the Universe, attributed with all the characteristics expected of a Universal Consciousness.
The spirit-personality of Theodore Sewall, existing on his Etheric Plane, was able to reach through to the physical and instruct his wife, changing her doubting mindset and saving her from painful, premature death.
Which of us would not want to do the same?
BEREAVED but far from beaten, May Sewall carried on with her busy life.
There was the Girls’ Classical School she and Theodore had established in 1882, thirteen years earlier. Forty-four students attended that first year and hundreds graduated over the ensuing years fully prepared for college. As Principal and teacher of several classes she supervised a staff of twenty-five teachers and varying numbers of girls, rarely less than fifty, of grammar school age to high school most of whom lived in the associated boarding facility, The Classical School Residence. At that time Indianapolis was entering what could safely be described as its age of modernity. Automobiles were beginning to appear, electric lights were replacing gas lights in homes and city water and sewage flowed reliably.
May Sewall maintained an active social schedule at her home, Sewall House, where she entertained regularly, with a staff of ten. Her visitors included overnight dignitaries coming from far away cities and countries.
She possessed a reputation for hospitality which had resulted in a circle of friends extending throughout the United States and into Europe.
Much needed to be done in her efforts to establish women’s rights including the right to vote. Following the death of her beloved help mate, she barely faltered in her stride toward accomplishing goals other women dared not attempt.
In an age of voluminous floor-length skirts, she defied convention and shortened hers to the more practical ankle-length, beginning a trend never to recede again, especially not as a mandate of propriety. She designed previously unacceptable loose and shorter clothing for the girls in her school more suitable for sports, exercise and comfort. She traveled unescorted to all major cities in The United States and many in Europe attending meetings of organizations dedicated to women’s rights and world peace. May Wright Sewall was a leader, pragmatic and focused, so much so that she was unable to hear the whispers of her husband, Theodore, from his side of The Veil, telling her of his love and his determined efforts to keep his promise.
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