Subtle Shmuttle- part one

I probably overuse the word “subtle“ in a lot of my storytelling. “Spirit is subtle”… “I can’t believe how subtle the signs are!“ I know, I know – you get it already!

But, there have been a few times lately where it hasn’t been so subtle – and those are the really cool connections. Those are the ones where there is absolutely no question that what’s happening is really happening, and there’s also a lot less internal wishy-washiness about telling the recipient when you know how hard their loved ones must’ve worked to get through.

I haven’t asked permission from this next gentleman to tell his not-so-subtle story, so I will keep names and places very general, but this is how it went down:

I was with my family and we were taking a tour of our friend, “Tim’s” workplace. He is overseeing the renovation of an old building in California. We said our hellos outside on the grounds, and then stepped into the front door of the project, which was very much under construction; scaffolding lined some of the walls, ladders laid on the floor, and various workers milled about. During the tour Tim gave us, he was highlighting all sorts of stuff… NONE of which I heard. Why? Because as soon as we walked in the building, my brain started doing that buzzy spinny thing again. It’s apparently spirit’s version of, “Hey look at me!!”

The buzzing had just started when I looked at Tim and simultaneously heard, “grandpa.”

Oh…… NO. Here we go.

So at this moment, my brain is not only going haywire with spirit energy, but also trying to start processing how I will (or WON’T) possibly tell Tim what I’ve heard. Am I supposed to repeat just that to him? “Hey your grandpa is here!” What if nothing else follows? Then we’d all look around at each other, my kids doing that wide darting eyed silent code for “dude. Mom is WEIRD” and my husband looking at his friend like, “oh I’m so sorry about her.”

But hallelujah something DID follow. As I walked, I heard: “Dad’s Dad.” “Namesake.”

Hey! Now we are getting somewhere!

The tour probably lasted anther 15-20 minutes with no more outright information- just me trying to physically shake off the “ooglies”- and boy were they THICK. It’s SUCH an odd feeling. It’s kind of like…. a light electrocution mixed with confusion. You can’t get everything to stop, I dunno… moving. Just continuous waves of energy. It doesn’t hurt- it’s just kind of annoying when you’re trying to think, listen, be normal, and NOT give off “ghosts are all over me” vibes. I was literally in the back of the family tour pack- walking and throwing my hands trying to flick it off, and hoping no one would notice my new tick. (That didn’t work.) I knew then that the only way to shake this was to just come clean with Tim, however looney it sounded.

Tim finally walked us out- I waited for my family to each say their goodbyes and get in the car before I made my move. My hands were vigorously shaking, and I started to tear up. (This stuff gets freakily emotional- and you don’t always know why,)

“Soooo, you know that thing I do?” (This is my innovative go-to line apparently..)

“…no.”

“You know… the medium thing….” (I was sure we must have discussed this over a bottle of wine when he visited the prior year..)

“…no…but my wife is really into that stuff…”

Sigh. “Well when I walked in I got some serious vibes and heard ‘Grandpa’ and then, ‘Dads dad’ and ‘namesake.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

“Oh lots of stuff happens here!” Tim explained, glossing over my specifics. “I hear things all the time…” He said he hears footsteps and voices as clear as yours and mine saying, “hello?” as if they are looking for someone in the building. He told me two men ran into his office one day, scared to bits because “something was chasing them.”

Well, Ok… that’s neato and all, but… “this is for YOU. YOUR grandpa.”

Tim eyes went wide.

“Grandpa. Dad’s dad. Namesake.”

The wheels were obviously turning in Tim’s head but it was like he couldn’t even comprehend what I was saying now that this was so personal. He started talking about his Dad, thinking it must be him when I interrupted, “What was your grandpa’s name?”

“Well, my DAD’S name was Bill…”

“And your GRANDFATHER?”

“Timothy,” Tim casually stated.

I looked at Tim with my hands in the air as if to convey, “well duh!” and just said, “namesake!”

Tim was fairly speechless. It was like he knew there were ghosts there, but he never considered they were HIS ghosts. But now Tim was curious, like, “ok grandpa is here….. and? Why?”

Well actually, I had already asked! “He just wants you to know he sees what you are doing and loves watching you at work and he’s proud of you!”

And that is exactly what happened. At some point during the tour (that I’ll have to take again someday,) I did ask Grandpa, “so what do you want me to tell him?” and I didn’t hear anything like a sentence- nothing audible. It was just a feeling and the knowledge of the late, great, Timothy, hanging out and proudly watching his successful namesake at work.