Do you take delight in watching films, listening to pop music, or reading books? For English learners, movies, songs, and books are one of the most wonderful sources to explore the language! You can indulge in your favorite pastime and still learn some expressions, words of wisdom, and oftentimes good lessons while you’re at it.
#93. Rekindled (authored by Jan Canty, Ph.D,
ABPP)
Rekindled,
written by grief psychologist, homicide survivor, and podcast host Dr. Jan
Canty, blends decades of clinical expertise with her own personal experiences
and compelling research on After-Death Communication (ADC). Through this
thoughtful exploration of spontaneous ADC experiences and the nature of death,
she offers readers both scientific inquiry and heartfelt compassion. This book
provides an insightful and comforting perspective on grief, death, and the
possibility of what may lie beyond.
“They
recognize that just because something can’t be explained doesn’t mean it didn’t
happen. My goal is simple. If we can move the needle for greater awareness and
acceptance of spontaneous ADCs, it will benefit grievers who have had, or who
will have, spontaneous postmortem communication.”
ð In this quote, Dr. Jan Canty encourages readers to acknowledge After-Death Communications (ADCs)—such as vivid dreams, an unmistakable sense of a loved one's presence, or meaningful signs—even when they cannot be explained scientifically. Her purpose is not to persuade readers to adopt a particular belief, but rather to normalize these experiences, reduce the stigma surrounding them, and offer comfort to those who are grieving.
An experience should not be dismissed simply because it falls outside conventional scientific understanding. Instead, its value can be recognized by the profound comfort, hope, and healing it brings to the person who experiences it. Dr. Canty advocates creating a compassionate, judgment-free environment where mourners can openly share these deeply personal experiences. Many grieving individuals remain silent for fear of being misunderstood or ridiculed. By validating ADCs rather than dismissing them, she believes we can help grieving people feel less isolated and more supported on their journey toward healing.
“Before
the late 1800s, grief in Western Culture was publicly discussed and displayed.
Death and its aftermath were viewed “holistically”. Life and death were
interconnected, part of a unified system. People widely accepted that the soul
continued with the living through dreams, prayers, visions, and nature.
Everything in the universe (humans, animals, and nature) was widely regarded as
interconnected.”
ð Dr.
Jan Canty reflects on how Western society's understanding of death has changed
over time. She explains that before the late nineteenth century, grief was
regarded as a natural and communal part of life rather than a private burden to
be hidden. Death was viewed as an integral part of life's journey, not as
something to be feared or separated from everyday existence.
People embraced a holistic
view of life and death, seeing death as a continuation of life's journey rather
than an abrupt ending. Second, mourning was a public and communal experience,
allowing family members, friends, and neighbors to openly express grief while
offering one another comfort and support. Third, there was a continued sense of
connection with those who had died. Many people accepted that loved ones could
remain present in meaningful ways—through dreams, nature, or other symbolic
signs—providing reassurance to those left behind.
She suggests that as modern society has become more private and clinical in its approach to death, many people have lost the openness that once allowed them to recognize and talk about these comforting experiences. Rather than asking readers to adopt a particular belief, she invites them to consider how earlier cultural attitudes toward death may offer valuable insights into grief, healing, and the enduring bonds of love.
“It is
impossible to go on as you were before. So, you go on as you never have.” (quote
from Cheryl Strayed in this book)
ð
Cheryl
Strayed's well-known quote from Tiny Beautiful Things speaks to the profound
reality of life after devastating loss, trauma, or grief. Rather than offering
false reassurance that life will eventually return to normal, she acknowledges
a difficult truth: once we experience a life-altering event, we can never fully
return to the person we once were. A profound loss permanently changes the
landscape of our lives. The world we once knew no longer exists, and trying to
recreate our former selves or reclaim the life we had before often leads to
frustration and sorrow. So, we gradually rebuild our identity, develop new ways
of coping, and discover reserves of courage, resilience, and wisdom that we may
never have recognized within ourselves.
In the context of Dr. Jan Canty's work on grief and trauma, Strayed's words beautifully complement the book's central message. Healing is not about "getting over" a loss or returning to who we once were. Instead, it is about embracing transformation—learning to carry our grief while allowing it to reshape us into people with greater compassion, deeper understanding, and renewed purpose. Rather than erasing the pain, healing integrates it into the story of our lives, enabling us to move forward with strength while continuing to honor those we have loved and lost.
** Jean’s Small Thoughts:
As we grow
older, we inevitably hear more news of someone's passing. It may be a family
member, a dear friend, a neighbor, or even a celebrity whose poster once hung
on our bedroom wall. Whenever such news reaches us, what is the very first
thought that comes to mind? Do we believe those who have departed have
completely severed their connection with this world?
This book
does not ask readers to accept the existence of invisible communication with
the dead. Instead, it invites us into an open conversation about death—one that
encourages us to stop avoiding the subject and honestly share the unexpected
experiences that sometimes accompany the loss of someone we love.
The year 2017
was especially heartbreaking for me. Within just a few months, I lost both my
father and my cousin. There is no single word that can capture such grief. It
leaves us weeping, aching, quiet, and withdrawn.
After their
passing, I experienced several moments that felt like subtle connections with
them, though I never realized these experiences had a name. A lone white
butterfly appeared at my grandparents' gravesite long after butterfly season
had ended. I saw vivid images of both my father and my father-in-law around the
time of their deaths. During a trail race shortly after my cousin passed away,
a striking blue bird appeared along the path, as if offering a silent greeting.
I quietly treasured these moments, believing they were too personal to share.
This book
introduced me to the concept of After-Death Communication (ADC), a phenomenon
that has also been explored in psychology and medicine. Rather than dismissing
these experiences as wishful thinking, hallucinations, superstition, religious
zeal, or attention-seeking, the author presents research suggesting that ADC
often consists of vivid, spontaneous encounters between grieving individuals
and their departed loved ones—without the involvement of mediums, hypnosis, or
other techniques.
Whether you
ultimately embrace or question the idea of ADC, I believe this book offers
comfort to anyone navigating grief. It gently reminds us that love does not
necessarily end when a life does.
I would like
to close by sharing a short poem I wrote after losing my beloved father and
cousin, a poem that also appears in my novel. My heartfelt prayers go out to
everyone who is walking the difficult path of saying goodbye to someone they
deeply love. Lastly, my heart and prayers are with my mother’s best friend Mrs.
Lee who has recently left for Heaven and her beloved family.
Hope and Pray for You in Heaven
by Jean J. Lee
The days you left behind
have felt like the most unfamiliar
grind.
When I hit quiet trails
I hear my breathing becoming sad
exhales.
The empty hollow filled with sorrow
Makes it harder to hope for tomorrow.
Here I go again with another stride
slowly but tenaciously with you
inside.
A hundred-mile-long walk is not lonely
as you are watching over me closely.
Miles and miles apart between Heaven
and earth in existence,
but walking these miles would truly
shorten the distance.
I know that I’d cry now and then
but I promise I’d head out again.
When it rains, I’ll think of it as
your gift
to hide my tears as I sniffed.
When it snows, I’ll listen to my footsteps
in my joyful stroll of a hundred
steps.
A birdie on that cedar tree
must be that you are finally free.




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