It’s not the first time I’ve seen one, but last Wednesday morning (at 3:37 a.m. to be precise), I walked out of my kitchen (after getting a glass of water) to see my mom sitting on the couch. I stood there, in the faint glow given off by the street light outside our living room window, and watched the way the light played on her smooth, young skin. She ignored me completely, her head turned toward the TV as though it were turned on to her favorite show. She smiled and her head tilted up as though she were giggling, but she didn’t make a sound. She was wearing one of her favorite night shirts – white with a bunch of little teddy bears dancing all over it – and she had knitting sitting in her lap. She looked to be about my age – perhaps a little bit younger – and she was beautiful – radiantly so. I stood there, in the archway between the kitchen and living room, for nearly two solid minutes with my breath caught up in my throat, wondering if I was losing my marbles. Brain tumors that caused hallucinations sprung immediately to mind, but I knew in my heart that this was as real as real can get. I took a deep steadying breath, closed my eyes and counted to ten before opening them up again and looking at the couch. Phew – no more mom ghost. Just the same old ugly, hand-me-down hide-a-bed that I’ve hated with a passion for the last five years. I chalked it up to being half asleep and made my way back to bed. When I woke up in the morning, I recalled my encounter of the wee morning hours and smiled – if it really had been her, it was a pleasure to see her again, even if it had been so briefly. It felt good to know that she was happy.
The next morning (Thursday), at 3:37 a.m. to be precise once again, I woke up abruptly for no apparent reason. I decided to go to the bathroom, since I was awake anyway, and, as I was walking out of the bathroom, my dad’s mother (Gramms, as I used to call her) was standing just outside the bathroom door. She was wearing a mauve suite, with gold buttons down the front, with grey shoes and she had her hands clasped loosely behind her back while she looked up at the pictures on the wall. This time, I had the bathroom light on and it’s full power shone on her, so I knew I wasn’t seeing things. She wasn’t whispy or see-through and I felt as though I could have reached out and hugged her and she would have felt as real as you or me. This time, and because I have been reading endless books on the subject of souls and all things spiritual, I recognized that the time I woke up was significant somehow. I took a deep breath again and waited for her to say something or give me some sort of signal that she was trying to send me a message. Instead, I was greeted, again, with complete ignorance of my presence, and a little smirk as though she was laughing at some internal joke. Then I blinked and poof, no more Gramms. I woke up hours later and thought to myself, What the…?
Many people might think it creepy to be visited by a ghost or an echo or an imprint of a lost loved one and, I admit, it certainly gave me pause to have two encounters in as many nights. But the thing that caught my attention the most was that I had only ever seen a departed loved one while walking through the stages of a very detailed meditation exercise designed to invite souls to speak to us from the other side. For those of you who think this is a bunch of malarky, I totally understand. I used to laugh out loud at the very notion that ghosts or souls or what have you even existed and it was only through a fluke moment that I came to believe. I read a book by Sylvia Browne called To The Other Side and Back in which she explained all the different ways our loved ones communicate with us after they’ve left this life. I didn’t believe much of it, but I thought I’d try some of the suggested meditation exercises and try to see if my mom would come and visit me in my dreams. I tried it for nearly two weeks before I was surprised one night to find that, at the end of the exercise, when I sat down in front of the fire in a big, comfy chair inside my mind and looked over to see who was in the other chair, my Grandpa Alex was sitting there, smiling at me in his sweet, quiet way. I was so startled that I bolted out of the meditation and realized I’d broken out in a sweat and had the shakes. I was too chicken to try it again for a month or two, but when I finally got up the nerve again, there was a beautiful, dark-haired, native-looking woman who said she was my spirit guide and the name Katarina appeared before me on a white sheet of paper with black letters. Weeeeeeeeiiiiirrrrrrrrrrdddddd, isn’t it. Since then, I’ve come to learn so much more about the spiritual side of things – spirit guides, angels, imprints, souls, masters, etc. If you don’t believe, no biggy, I’m not asking you to. I’m merely letting you all know what I’ve been experiencing lately.
The topper to this crazy spiritual cake came last Saturday while I was photographing my cousin Jodie’s wedding. We were at a beach in White Rock, shooting pics of the Bride & Groom and this guy kept getting in the picture. He was tall and bald, but young and pretty good looking. At first, I just ignored him and moved my position every time he appeared in the background through my lens. But after awhile, I admit I started to get a little PO’ed and thought he was following us around just to be an ass. I even sent a few dirty looks his way to try to give him the hint that he was annoying me, but that just seemed to make him smile more. Big jerkwad. I eventually went back to ignoring him and did the shoot and then forgot about him. A couple hours later, there was a slide show presentation about the Bride & Groom and as I was watching it, a picture flashed up on the screen of my cousin and her husband and another couple and my head filled instantly with a buzzing feeling and my knees felt a bit wobbly. The man from the other couple was the guy I’d seen at the beach – the one I’d been feeling annoyed at – and his wife was the widow of the Groom’s best friend. It was only then that I realized that the guy I’d seen had been Tom, Blake (the Groom)’s best friend who had died in a plane crash months before. I’d heard the story about Tom’s death and met his wife, Megan, but I’d never seen a picture of him and hadn’t had any idea what he’d looked like until I’d seen his picture on the screen. I think my heart skipped a few beats, but I shrugged it off and tried not to think about it.
I went back to my table and thought about what had happened. Why on earth would a complete stranger decide to make his presence known to me? Why hadn’t he shown himself to Jodie or Blake or hey, how’s this for an idea, his wife??? I thought and thought and thought and I eventually came to the conclusion that I must have been the most receptive person around and he’d somehow just picked up my vibration or whatever. Armed with that revelation, I thought that if he’d appeared at all, he must want people to know that he was around, so I pulled my Auntie Terri aside and let her know what I’d seen. I didn’t want to tell Megan outright – she didn’t know me very well and it would have seemed mighty cocky of me to walk up and say, “Oh hey, I saw your dead husband today at the beach” – so I thought I’d leave it up to Auntie Terri to tell her if she thought it was a good idea. I’m still not sure why I saw him, but I did figure out why I saw my mom and Grandma – they were subtly reminding me of the proper path to travel – thanks ladies.
The questions I keep asking myself in the last few days are Am I losing my marbles? and If I’m not losing my marbles, who am I going to see next?
I’m not sure who I’m going to see next, but you are going to see a couple sneak peaks from my cousin Jodie’s wedding. I won’t get a chance to go through all of them until after the weekend, but I just grabbed the first two that I really liked to show you. By the way, the necklace she’s wearing is 100% real!
I wish you enough and stay thirsty my friends.