Tyler Rowdy Lang

We received Tyler’s gift the evening before I was set to leave for Northern California. But first, let me take you back a month earlier, when Cody, a few friends, and I had just attended a beautiful talk at the Self-Realization Fellowship. Afterward, we had lunch and then wandered over to Soulscape. As we passed the bulletin board—normally crowded with flyers for local events—we noticed something unusual. Almost all the flyers had been removed. Only one remained: an announcement for an upcoming visit to Encinitas by world-famous mediums James Van Praagh and Lynn Probert. We bought tickets on the spot and started counting the days!

After Tyler crossed over, I read Talking to Heaven by James Van Praagh, and it brought me great comfort. Most of the stories were about near-death experiences. Books like that—and especially Embraced by the Light by Betty J. Eadie—offered me something to hold onto. I read them because I wanted to catch a glimpse of Heaven. I needed to believe that Tyler and I would be reunited one day, and more than anything, I needed to know that he was at peace.

Even though I’d received many incredible signs from Tyler, they sometimes left me wondering if I was just imagining things—or even if I was going crazy. Still, deep down, I was determined to believe that Tyler was alive in another dimension—Heaven—and that I would see him again.

The James Van Praagh and Lynn Probert event finally arrived. Cody and I entered the venue, and it was packed with around seven hundred people. We were all there with the same hope: to witness the channeling of departed souls—or, if we were lucky, to receive personal messages from our own loved ones. We quickly found our friends and sat between them, soaking in the powerful energy and anticipation in the room. It wasn’t long before James and Lynn stepped onto the stage.

About thirty minutes in, Lynn said she had a young man with her. She described him as very handsome, loving, and strong, and said that his mother and brother were present. Cody and I stood up, along with a few others, but as she shared more details, everyone else sat down. It was clear the young man was Tyler.

Lynn said he had taken his life on a Tuesday, and that it had happened outdoors. Tyler then showed her the tree where he ended his life on Earth. He said he knew that Cody and I had wanted to help him, but there was nothing we could have done. I could barely stay standing.

Then Lynn said Tyler had mentioned something that had recently been written about him—something that had been shared around. She emphasized that he said it in a very humble way. We knew what he was talking about immediately.

Some of you may know about Tyler’s Run. That very day marked the first annual run held in his honor to raise money for Invisible Children. Tyler’s passion had been to free the LRA child soldiers and bring down Joseph Kony (but that’s another story). I instantly knew Tyler was referring to the flyer for the run. It had been beautifully written by two of his teachers from Dehesa, who also organized the event.

Tyler also said he saw what I was holding earlier that day. During the memorial walk, I carried a rose. I let it go in the ocean, surrounded by people who loved and missed him. It was heartbreaking. I remember saying to myself, “Can you see us, Tyler? We all miss you so much.”

Then Tyler shifted topics and said he saw Cody fixing the lock on his door just a few days earlier. Cody responded, “I’ve been feeling his presence lately!” And it was true—a few days earlier, Cody had told me his lock was broken.

Next, Tyler showed Lynn the numbers 5-7-5. She didn’t understand what they meant, but Cody did. The night he learned of Tyler’s passing, he had written a haiku. Tyler said he liked it very much.

Tyler also mentioned a painting Cody hadn’t finished yet. He encouraged him to complete it. Though Cody has several unfinished pieces, he immediately knew which one Tyler meant. It’s a beautiful work, like all of Cody’s art—featuring a lotus, temple, ocean, and other peaceful images. Lynn told Cody that Tyler looked up to him and loved him very, very much.

Then Lynn turned to me and said, “You know when you rub your nose?” She mimicked the exact way I do it and explained, “That’s Tyler giving you a kiss because it’s the last place you kissed him.” It’s true. When I said goodbye to Tyler for the final time, I kissed his eyelids, cheeks, forehead—and finally, his nose.

Tyler then showed her a window I look out of all the time. He said he was there with me. I knew he meant my office window. I often sat there staring outside, wondering if his spirit was near—daydreaming, praying, and hoping. One day, as I sat working at my desk, a dandelion floated right through that window and landed in front of me. I caught it gently in my cupped hands.

Then Tyler said that one day, I would see a kiss in the bottom-right corner of a window—and I would know it was from him. I’ll always be captivated by windows and reflections now. I suppose when I need it most, that kiss will appear.

There was more Tyler shared, but I’ll keep those messages just between Cody and me.

Lynn said Tyler wants us to know he’s okay now. She repeated it several times, almost as if acknowledging my stubbornness.

I hope you find comfort and peace in what I’ve shared. Tyler’s messages gave me the faith I needed to believe that I will see him again someday—and that life on Earth isn’t the end. It’s only a small chapter in the story of our eternal journey.

Love, Nancy