Two houses ago I lived with a ghost. Maybe two.
My sister saw a sailor looking guy at the foot of her bed once when she was visiting. He never came to visit me.
The one who visited me was a young girl.
She was dressed in antebellum, sort of plain, almost peasant clothing.
Long dress.
Aprons.
Bonnet.
She did not scare me ever. She never conveyed any message to me.
I never got to know why she was there.
She visited me about three or four times during the almost 20 years we lived in that house.
The first time I woke up to see her gliding down the hallway and into the bedroom. She just stood there and looked at me. I sat up. She went back down the hall. Backwards.
Her next two visits were similar.
I talked about her to a few select people and they asked me questions about her so I decided to be very alert the next time she came, if she did.
The next visit, she was standing beside my bed. She must have awakened me somehow because I was suddenly completely awake.
I looked her over carefully. I realized that I could not see the things on the wall behind her. I couldn’t see through her,
I asked her what she wanted or needed. She didn’t say anything, but somehow I knew that . She was calm and happy. She didn’t smile or have any other facial expression. I couldn’t tell you what she looked like.
We moved to a different house. She didn’t follow us. There were no ghosts living in the new house, darn it.
We lived there for 18 years.
This house? Should have a ghost or two, but I haven’t seen her-him.
I am not crazy. (Some might dispute this)
Not stupid.
Hey, I have a master’s degree!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Accidental Visit With a Medium
While attending my brother, Johnny’s wedding, I had an incredible experience with a medium, who also happened to be the maid of honor.
While at dinner, the night before the ceremony, she suddenly said, “Tom. I am hearing a call for Tom.”
She wouldn't quit asking for a connection for Tom.
No one knew what she was talking about, but then she pointed at me and said,
“Does anyone here know a mortician?”
I said, "No." (Thinking, "Like I'd hang out with a mortician")
Then YES! I DO!
I told her that suddenly realized I did know a mortician, and incredibly his name is Tom.
She said his brother, someone with a “J,” was here jumping up and down because we had figured it out.
She then said that he had gone to the other side so quickly that it took him a while to figure out that he had gone over.
I had dated and been friends with him, both before, and after we dated.
I visited with him every time I returned to my home town.
His name was Jerry.
He had ridden his bicycle to a Super Bowl party, and on his way home he pulled his front brake at the bottom of a hill, and had gone over his handle bars and landed on his bare head.
She then mentioned two names that unfortunately I don’t remember. They were boy’s names. (He left 4 children)
She said that he had a beautiful soul, a beautiful aura. (He was always a social butterfly!)
She said that he was happy and well on the other side and that he wanted me to tell his brother. He said to tell him that he loves him.
I sent his Brother an email.
He said he didn't believe in that sort of thing.
While at dinner, the night before the ceremony, she suddenly said, “Tom. I am hearing a call for Tom.”
She wouldn't quit asking for a connection for Tom.
No one knew what she was talking about, but then she pointed at me and said,
“Does anyone here know a mortician?”
I said, "No." (Thinking, "Like I'd hang out with a mortician")
Then YES! I DO!
I told her that suddenly realized I did know a mortician, and incredibly his name is Tom.
She said his brother, someone with a “J,” was here jumping up and down because we had figured it out.
She then said that he had gone to the other side so quickly that it took him a while to figure out that he had gone over.
I had dated and been friends with him, both before, and after we dated.
I visited with him every time I returned to my home town.
His name was Jerry.
He had ridden his bicycle to a Super Bowl party, and on his way home he pulled his front brake at the bottom of a hill, and had gone over his handle bars and landed on his bare head.
She then mentioned two names that unfortunately I don’t remember. They were boy’s names. (He left 4 children)
She said that he had a beautiful soul, a beautiful aura. (He was always a social butterfly!)
She said that he was happy and well on the other side and that he wanted me to tell his brother. He said to tell him that he loves him.
I sent his Brother an email.
He said he didn't believe in that sort of thing.
Mimi Speaks with Me From the Other Side
Judy and Glenn have been friends of ours since I was pregnant with Rob. Their daughter, Kia is Martie’s age. They have been friends since they were two.
When they were about seven, Kia got the chicken pox. She was at our house and even barfed on the floor in Martie’s room. I waited for the spots to break out on Martie and Rob, but they never came.
Fast forward twenty-six years. Martie is pregnant with Jack. She goes over to Kia’s house so Rachel can play with her son Nickie, but before she even opens the screen door Kia yells, “Don’t come in if you haven’t had the chicken- pox, because we think Nicky just broke out with them!” Martie turned around and left. Two weeks later Martie came down with the worst case of the pox that I have ever seen or heard of. She couldn’t even open her eyes.
I began to worry, and research cases of chicken pox and pregnancy. I read that if its occurs in the first trimester it can cause deformity in the limbs. If it occurs in the second it can cause permanent skin lesions and discoloration. We figured that she was at the end of her second trimester and beginning the third while she was sick. Her doctor does an ultrasound and things look OK. I still fret.
Meanwhile our beloved 92 year old grandmother, Mimi, gets sick and crosses over on June 6th. Martie goes into labor just after midnight on June 7th. We are in the birthing room. It is very quiet while we all rest between contractions. I am sitting in a rocking chair with my eyes closed. I hear, as clear as day, Mimi’s voice. She says, “It’s going to be OK.” My eyes flew open! I looked around at everyone else in the room, but their eyes are still closed. When Mimi grew old her voice got old, too. The voice that early morning was her thirty-year-old voice! The same voice she had when she said, upon losing the key to her trunk, “Oh, I’m so mad I could just spit!”
I smiled and whispered a thank you to her.
She was right.
Everything was OK.
When they were about seven, Kia got the chicken pox. She was at our house and even barfed on the floor in Martie’s room. I waited for the spots to break out on Martie and Rob, but they never came.
Fast forward twenty-six years. Martie is pregnant with Jack. She goes over to Kia’s house so Rachel can play with her son Nickie, but before she even opens the screen door Kia yells, “Don’t come in if you haven’t had the chicken- pox, because we think Nicky just broke out with them!” Martie turned around and left. Two weeks later Martie came down with the worst case of the pox that I have ever seen or heard of. She couldn’t even open her eyes.
I began to worry, and research cases of chicken pox and pregnancy. I read that if its occurs in the first trimester it can cause deformity in the limbs. If it occurs in the second it can cause permanent skin lesions and discoloration. We figured that she was at the end of her second trimester and beginning the third while she was sick. Her doctor does an ultrasound and things look OK. I still fret.
Meanwhile our beloved 92 year old grandmother, Mimi, gets sick and crosses over on June 6th. Martie goes into labor just after midnight on June 7th. We are in the birthing room. It is very quiet while we all rest between contractions. I am sitting in a rocking chair with my eyes closed. I hear, as clear as day, Mimi’s voice. She says, “It’s going to be OK.” My eyes flew open! I looked around at everyone else in the room, but their eyes are still closed. When Mimi grew old her voice got old, too. The voice that early morning was her thirty-year-old voice! The same voice she had when she said, upon losing the key to her trunk, “Oh, I’m so mad I could just spit!”
I smiled and whispered a thank you to her.
She was right.
Everything was OK.
A life-Saving Tap on My Shoulder
It was Easter Week. My sister and brother-in-law, Linda and Ches were moving in next door to us. We were putting things away, playing music, and just having a noisy party. It was getting late in the day and Richard left to go referee a basketball game. Ches began to fire up the barbeque grill. I looked at then nine-year-old Rob and when I saw how grubby he was I sent him next door for a shower. About five minutes later I suddenly got a powerful feeling that I had to go check on him. My aunt, Karen said, “I’ll go with you.” When we opened the front door, we heard him singing and then there was a huge crash. I ran in and found him standing in shards of glass from the shower door, which he had opened with a Karate kick. Blood was spraying out of his leg. I reached in and picked him up by the armpit with one hand. (Adrenalin—powerful stuff!) I clamped my hands over the two worst slashes (I could see that the entire calf muscle was severed and pulled apart) to try to stop the bleeding and told Karen to call 911. I did not see or hear a thing, except Rob’s quiet frightened face until the room started to fill up with people in blue. A fire truck, an ambulance, a police car, and the paramedic’s truck screamed up, sirens blaring to the street in front of the house and I didn’t hear a thing.
While the emergency room doctor sewed him back together, (57 stitches) he told me that if I hadn’t gone to check on him when I did he never would have made it to the front door. If Karen hadn’t gone with me I wouldn’t have been able to let go of the wounds to call 911. No one would have heard me if I called for help because of the music playing on outside speakers next door.
While the emergency room doctor sewed him back together, (57 stitches) he told me that if I hadn’t gone to check on him when I did he never would have made it to the front door. If Karen hadn’t gone with me I wouldn’t have been able to let go of the wounds to call 911. No one would have heard me if I called for help because of the music playing on outside speakers next door.
Prophecy Dream
When I was eighteen on the morning of the day before Easter, I came downstairs and told my mother about the dream I had just had. I dreamed of a funeral that was so huge, it had to be held in the rock gardens of East Central.(?) There were nuns (?) there. It was raining a fine mist. It was the funeral of a young boy. I did not know who the boy was.
Mom gasped and told me she had had a dream about a funeral, too. Many people were there. In her dream the people were coaxing her to go up to the casket and see who it was.
She did not want to know.
They kept saying, “Go see. Go see who it is.”
She did not go look.
At ten minutes after four o’clock that afternoon, my younger brother was killed when the car in which he was riding was hit by a southbound freight train. His friend was also killed.
So many people attended the funeral, the multipurpose room of the church had to be wired for sound so the spillover crowd could hear. All day long a fine misty rain fell.
Mom gasped and told me she had had a dream about a funeral, too. Many people were there. In her dream the people were coaxing her to go up to the casket and see who it was.
She did not want to know.
They kept saying, “Go see. Go see who it is.”
She did not go look.
At ten minutes after four o’clock that afternoon, my younger brother was killed when the car in which he was riding was hit by a southbound freight train. His friend was also killed.
So many people attended the funeral, the multipurpose room of the church had to be wired for sound so the spillover crowd could hear. All day long a fine misty rain fell.
Leigh's Choice
This is the song that Leigh chose for the first dance as Mr. and Mrs.
She was right.
She left this world after only ten years of marriage.
Nothing Lasts For Long Lyrics
Take my hand
And walk with me
And tell me who you love
And make a wish and you can see
The first star from above
Ya ever feel so deep and lost
Somewhere in the past?
Is it wrong to not hold on
if nothing ever lasts?
Maybe nothing lasts for ever
Not the mountain or the sea
But the times we have together
They will always be with me
The sun is down and the wind is calm
As it gently fades away
I wonder then and I think of you
And how nothing ever stays
Take my hand
And walk with me
And tell me who you love
Make a wish and you can see
The first star from above
Nothing lasts for long (4x)
Searching for writer.
She was right.
She left this world after only ten years of marriage.
Nothing Lasts For Long Lyrics
Take my hand
And walk with me
And tell me who you love
And make a wish and you can see
The first star from above
Ya ever feel so deep and lost
Somewhere in the past?
Is it wrong to not hold on
if nothing ever lasts?
Maybe nothing lasts for ever
Not the mountain or the sea
But the times we have together
They will always be with me
The sun is down and the wind is calm
As it gently fades away
I wonder then and I think of you
And how nothing ever stays
Take my hand
And walk with me
And tell me who you love
Make a wish and you can see
The first star from above
Nothing lasts for long (4x)
Searching for writer.
Attending a Death
(Written October of 2004)
I have spent the last two days doing something that I have never done before.
My mother’s only brother, Uncle “Buddy” had a stroke at home and was taken to the hospital, where he had another stroke. The attending physicians in the ER sent him to ICU, where they put him on a respirator.
He had previously signed a document that said not to resuscitate him. The attending physicians were given a copy and there was one on file with his regular physician. They still wired him up with all the machines available to keep him “alive.”
After giving him test after test, they declared him as having no brain activity.
Pegi, my sister called me, crying, and said to please come to Saddleback Memorial. I went.
Buddy was a guy that everyone loved. He was a comedian. He loved cigars and Budweiser and his family. Last year he kept Pegi’s boys while she was in Hawaii. I went to visit them at Pegi’s house. Before I left to go there, I called to see if he needed anything. Buddy told me that he would sure like some “Bud.” He said he had tried to drive Pegi’s SUV but found it too big so he “just put it back into the garage and propped the fenders up against the wall and shut the garage door.”
He could always make me laugh.
Yesterday, I went to the ICU and found him alone in a room. I went in and kissed him on the forehead and took his hand. I began to talk to him. I told him that I was here and that I loved him. I asked him to squeeze my hand if he could see Mimi. (His mom, my grandmother, who is on the other side.) He squeezed my hand tightly for about fifteen seconds. Now, I know that a person who has no brain activity cannot do this, so I know something else was at work here.
Peg and Cathy, his wife, came into the room and reported that they had been in a meeting with the doctors about taking him off of life support. Someone would be coming in soon to take the respirator tube out of his lungs.
After three hours of waiting, this finally happened.
The cable TV station in the room was playing The Green Leaves of Summer while they pulled the tubes out. I always notice the music involved with events. My life has a sound track.
The doctor said it wouldn’t be long. He began to breathe on his own the way a person with pneumonia might sound.
Today his breaths were short and labored. All day long we talked to him and petted him and wiped his forehead.
His doctor said he would have another stroke and he wouldn’t live through it.
He was right on.
At 4:20 his eyes opened but I could see that he was not seeing anything. His head came up off of the pillow. He gasped for air and then his head went back on the pillow. He swallowed about twelve times and then I closed his eyes and kissed him on his head and hands and he took no more breaths.
I have never attended a death before.
I told Pegi that he was dancing with Mimi.
I just knew it.
On the way home that night, They played an old song on the radio;
"Another One Bites the Dust."
I smiled through my tears.
Because,
Not two weeks earlier, I had told my daughter, Martie that when I die I want "Another One Bites the Dust" played loudly as everyone is exiting my wake. I told her I meant it and made her promise. I still mean it!
I have spent the last two days doing something that I have never done before.
My mother’s only brother, Uncle “Buddy” had a stroke at home and was taken to the hospital, where he had another stroke. The attending physicians in the ER sent him to ICU, where they put him on a respirator.
He had previously signed a document that said not to resuscitate him. The attending physicians were given a copy and there was one on file with his regular physician. They still wired him up with all the machines available to keep him “alive.”
After giving him test after test, they declared him as having no brain activity.
Pegi, my sister called me, crying, and said to please come to Saddleback Memorial. I went.
Buddy was a guy that everyone loved. He was a comedian. He loved cigars and Budweiser and his family. Last year he kept Pegi’s boys while she was in Hawaii. I went to visit them at Pegi’s house. Before I left to go there, I called to see if he needed anything. Buddy told me that he would sure like some “Bud.” He said he had tried to drive Pegi’s SUV but found it too big so he “just put it back into the garage and propped the fenders up against the wall and shut the garage door.”
He could always make me laugh.
Yesterday, I went to the ICU and found him alone in a room. I went in and kissed him on the forehead and took his hand. I began to talk to him. I told him that I was here and that I loved him. I asked him to squeeze my hand if he could see Mimi. (His mom, my grandmother, who is on the other side.) He squeezed my hand tightly for about fifteen seconds. Now, I know that a person who has no brain activity cannot do this, so I know something else was at work here.
Peg and Cathy, his wife, came into the room and reported that they had been in a meeting with the doctors about taking him off of life support. Someone would be coming in soon to take the respirator tube out of his lungs.
After three hours of waiting, this finally happened.
The cable TV station in the room was playing The Green Leaves of Summer while they pulled the tubes out. I always notice the music involved with events. My life has a sound track.
The doctor said it wouldn’t be long. He began to breathe on his own the way a person with pneumonia might sound.
Today his breaths were short and labored. All day long we talked to him and petted him and wiped his forehead.
His doctor said he would have another stroke and he wouldn’t live through it.
He was right on.
At 4:20 his eyes opened but I could see that he was not seeing anything. His head came up off of the pillow. He gasped for air and then his head went back on the pillow. He swallowed about twelve times and then I closed his eyes and kissed him on his head and hands and he took no more breaths.
I have never attended a death before.
I told Pegi that he was dancing with Mimi.
I just knew it.
On the way home that night, They played an old song on the radio;
"Another One Bites the Dust."
I smiled through my tears.
Because,
Not two weeks earlier, I had told my daughter, Martie that when I die I want "Another One Bites the Dust" played loudly as everyone is exiting my wake. I told her I meant it and made her promise. I still mean it!
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