The Afterlife of Billy Fingers: How My Bad-Boy Brother Proved to Me There's Life After Death
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Annie Kagan is not a medium or a psychic, she did not die and come back to life; in fact, when she was awakened by her deceased brother, she thought perhaps she had gone a little crazy
In The Afterlife of Billy Fingers: How My Bad-Boy Brother Proved to Me There's Life After Death, Kagan shares the extraordinary story of her after death communications (ADC) with her brother Billy, who began speaking to her just weeks after his unexpected death.
One of the most detailed and profound ADC's ever recorded, Kagan's book takes the reader beyond the near-death experience. Billy's vivid, real-time account of his on-going journey through the mysteries of death will change the way you think about life. Death and your place in the Universe.
In his foreword, Dr. Raymond Moody, author of Life after Life, explains the phenomena of walkers between the worlds, known to us since ancient times, and says that Dr. Kagan's thought-provoking account is an excellent example.
saying over and over, ‘Show me the money. Show me the money.’” Now I went silent. Tex was laughing, but I was more confused than amused. This wasn't just about my hearing Billy's voice, which was strange enough. Billy's conversations with me were one thing, but now Billy was bringing other people into his realm—Tex and J.B. and my writing class. Why? SEVEN Rescue Mission When Billy woke me a few days later, he was speaking so quickly I couldn't keep up. “Hold it,” I said out loud, putting the
after you're dead, nostalgia. But no more neuralgia, arthralgia, fibromyalgia. None of those other “algias” plague you up here in heaven. Did I say heaven? I guess I did. I was floating all alone enjoying becoming the Universe, and what happens? Along comes Ingrid, my first wife. I cannot convey the joy, which is way too small a word to describe what I experienced when I got my first look at Ingrid in spirit form. The last time I saw her we were both on earth and she was on morphine, dying of
things your brother had on him.” Since I didn't have to view Billy's post-accident body, there was no reason to fly from New York to Miami. By the time my sixty-two-year-old brother died, he was homeless, so everything he owned was in his pockets. My brother had left things neat and tidy for me—not like when he was alive. What I had worried about for years had now happened. Billy was dead. I called Billy's drug counselor at South Miami Hospital. Eddie's voice was edgy. “Billy showed up at the
doctor. A few days later, Steve phoned. “The doctor said I just have an infection that's hanging on. Nothing to worry about. He gave me some more antibiotics.” Again, from far away I heard Billy's sinister laugh. This time it was louder and sounded truly evil as it echoed around my ceiling. Trying to keep cool, I told Steve, “I want you to see someone else.” “Why?” “I don't know. Go see Florence. I'm sure she'll fit you in this afternoon.” Florence was Steve's primary doctor. Maybe the
had remembered. What was written was simply, But for the Grace of God. Words are words, and wisdom is beyond words, but people need words for their minds to hold onto and point the way beyond the words. Lo and behold, what is actually written on the coin? Simply, “But for the grace of God.” That's it, the whole thing. Leaving out three little words gives a completely different meaning. The saying you thought you remembered seeing, with the extra words added in, is a compelling but slightly