Tag: paranormal

Signs

Signs

My dad, John Kampsen, could have been president, I swear. He’s the kind of guy that not only is well read, but he will engage in conversation so passionately that it makes you feel…important! He always remembers names, from the whole church congregation to the local gas station attendant. People WANT to be friends with him! He’s a helluva fit 73 years, and will randomly break into Thai chi while asking about your family. Or he may grab a guitar and play one of the finest versions of “twinkle twinkle little star” you’ve ever heard for the kids. He’s magnetic.

The problem is, everyone wants a piece of him, and rarely does anyone get it for long. My grandma, when she was alive, would spend much of our phone calls passive-aggressively mentioning that she hadn’t heard from my dad in months, or that my dad wasn’t coming over for Christmas that year. I would always tell her, “Welcome to the club, Gram!” Although it was probably just as much the other way around; me complaining and her trying to make me feel better by sharing that she, too, was out of the ‘Dad loop.’

Side note: If you’ve followed along with me from the get-go here, you may remember that my dad is also the person that wholeheartedly thinks I’m going to hell for doing mediumship. (I’m SURE he’d argue the semantics of that statement, but that’s the gist.) I remember one time I was so excited to have had another medium explain to me that Jesus himself was a prophet and spoke with the other side- and I excitedly called my dad thinking this would finally be the ticket; our two worlds ARE compatible! Crushingly, his reply was, “you think you’re the same as JESUS?!?!”

The point is, I want more of my Dad. I’ve always wanted more. More phone calls, more visits, more anything. It’s a weird thing to go though life angry that you don’t get enough of a person. It tends to make you feel like you aren’t enough. His passion for cacti and planting is almost certainly why I have way too many potted plants on my windowsills. His love of music is probably why I wanted to learn every instrument I could get my hands on. I wanted to connect with him.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen often.

And even more unfortunately, my dad now has really aggressive leukemia.

*******

A few days ago, I had a reading with a young college aged girl. The only thing I knew going into it was that her name is Devon. Come to find out, she lost her older brother, Nick, when she was in high school. It was a wonderful reading, even if I was feeling a bit rusty, because he gave small bits of evidence that, even if it was just a word to me- “Baseball”- Devon would smile and know exactly what he was talking about.

At the end of the reading, Devon’s brother showed me the book “Signs” by Laura Lynn Jackson. I’ve had this book since it came out in 2019, but it’s the first time it has popped up in a reading. I knew he wanted her to read it because he was really going to step up his “sign game” for her, but also wanted to make sure she would recognize when it was happening.

Within a day or two, Devon had already texted me that she’d gotten a sign. She was at a concert and witnessed the exact same scenario I had described in the reading about a guy with curly hair. At the time, we didn’t know what it meant. She offered, “It’s probably my dad, he has curly hair.”

“No, that doesn’t feel right,” I told her. All I was seeing was an outline, but I knew this curly haired guy was younger. I assumed it was a friend of Nick’s, but Devon couldn’t place it.


At the concert, though, as soon as Devon saw this man’s outline, she noticed he was wearing the same logo-ed brand of clothing her brother wore “all the time, but I haven’t seen since.”

“It’s a
terrible picture, but it
made me very happy.”- Devon

It seems so simple –it’s just a kid in a shirt– but I always stress to people, don’t let your own expectations (and just as importantly other’s expectations) dictate what constitutes a sign. Trust that “ting” that you feel! That “ting” is coming from something other than you. Don’t make the mistake of getting a sign that you KNOW deep down IS a sign, and then go “well if it’s REALLY you… blink the lights twice” or something just as silly. It doesn’t work like that. Learn to trust when you get a sign. And remember you dont have to explain (prove) it to anyone. Your connection to your loved one in spirit is as real (and private!) as you want it to be.

****

In the few days after my reading with Devon, I was talking to my sister, Laurel, on the phone. Laurel is a nurse, and thus is familiar with the terms and meds and all the things that are going on with my dad while he goes through chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant, and now… Leukemia. This is all in the past year. He and his wife retired, thinking they would finally get to do some traveling in their golden years, and as he put it it, ‘Then Covid hit… and then… Cancer.”

That morning my dad’s wife, Toni, had started texting us updates again. We already knew the cancer was back, but now his picc line to get the next round of chemo was infected. Dad couldn’t seem to catch a break and was back in the hospital. Laurel wondered aloud if she should get in her car and drive to Detroit. She lives in Virginia, so it’s not a quick jaunt, to say the least. She asked if I wanted to get a plane ticket and meet her there. But, we had doubt about going… “dad’s immune system… will the hospital let us in?… will dad and Toni feel burdened with us being there?” We agreed to reassess in the morning.

I then filled Laurel in on the reading with Devon. (Laurel is my biggest Small Medium fan, so I tend to go right to her with all the details. It’s the ONE thing in life that she defers to me for- spiritual guidance- so I usually tell her what I’m reading, what mediations I’m doing, etc.) I quickly mentioned I had seen the book “Signs” as a message. Laurel thanked me for reminding her, as she had the book on her shelf, too, and could see from where she was that it has a bookmark in it, and thus she needed to finish it.

And then we hung up.

I’m telling you, not four minutes later, I get this text from Laurel. She had taken down the Signs book to do a little reading, and this is the page it opened up to. THIS IS WHERE THE BOOKMARK WAS.

This is Laura Lynn Jackson’s book. Here she is talking about *her* dad, John. That *their* relationship was difficult. That *he* played guitar all the time. Laurel and I may have well written this paragraph!!!

After our heads stopped spinning, we both concluded that this indeed was a sign for us. But, what did it mean? Should we drop everything and get to Michigan? Again, we decided to sleep on it and see how we felt the next morning.

The next day, I called Laurel. Our dad was, of course, still in the hospital. “Should we go?” After mulling it over, we decided to wait. Clearly we’d gotten a sign, but did it mean to leave now? Or just that our Dad is up against an unbeatable competitor and we should start planning? What we didn’t want to do was project a sense of urgency to my dad and his wife, and worry them anymore than they already were.

If this was the end of my story, one would tend to think that it was pretty good in and of itself. “What a cool sign!” But NOOOOOOO. Spirit always has another trick up their sleeve!

Within an hour of the phone call with my sister, I received a text from a woman I sort of recently met, Amy. She’s a friend of my cousin, and I met her and her family when they all vacationed together in Austin last year. In chatting with her, we realized we were both into the “woo woo” stuff and have kept in touch every once in a while since. Well, I hadn’t heard from Amy in a few months at least, but that day she sent me this message:

Yeah. If my head was spinning before, it was now rolling down the hallway.

I quickly sent Amy a message back, going “You’re not gonna believe this but…” and I filled her in on what had transpired so far. “I dont wanna spoil anything but late in the book the author talks about her dad, John dying, which is my dads name and…” I gave her the whole rundown.

Let’s also revisit the fact that this book was released three years ago! Its not like it just came out and we are all reading a current NYT bestseller.

I FaceTimed my sister right then basically screaming, “you’re not gonna believe this!” And as we rehashed the whole crazy story, I get a new voice memo from Amy, in which she said:

“Well, Holly, it is a sign for you and Laurel to go to Michigan because when you popped in my head that’s what I was reading. The part about Laura Lynn Jackson’s dad John who is dying. That’s the chapter I was reading when I got the sign to text you and show you the book… fucking weird ass shit, dont you think?!” (That last part is why I really get along with Amy.)

I dont even know what to write here. All I feel is stunned silence. My jaw can’t drop any more. My eyes can’t open any wider. I am just in absolute…. awe. Just when I think Spirit is done stepping up their game with me, VOILA! It’s unreal.

But is isn’t. It’s REAL.

****

I’m a little embarrassed to admit… so far, the wrap up to this story is fairly anti-climactic.

*Sigh*

We have NOT left for Michigan yet.

I know, I know. It seems like I’m not taking my own advice about trusting signs. The thing is, I KNOW its a sign. I’m just not sure it was a sign saying, “get in the car RIGHT NOW.” God, I hope its not, because I’m still sitting at my desk in Texas while my dad is 1,432 miles away. I AM preparing, though. I’m calling my dad more often, I’m saying “I love you” at the end of every call, and I’ve asked him to please let me know when he is OK with me coming out. I told him I will hop on a plane tomorrow if he gives me the go-ahead. I also know that this sign I received is probably just as much of a “don’t listen to him, go anyway” as anything. John Kampsen is as stubborn as he is magnetic, and I can’t imagine the time will ever be “just right” for him to green light our trip. There will always be something.

Maybe, just maybe, the sign here is telling me I just need to take what I need finally, which is time with my dad, John.

“See if it works”

An old friend reached out a few weeks ago for a reading, and I am so glad she did. At that point, I had been traveling way more than normal, and mediumship had been forced to take a back seat. So, let’s just say, I wasn’t exactly giddy to make the appointment. I agreed to the reading, but set her up a few weeks down the line to make sure I had time to get my head on straight. And as you can tell by my description, “an old friend,” I also knew her… and in this particular case, I had even met the mother I knew she was hoping to connect with.

If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now- knowing the client can make readings very difficult. I mean, you KNOW their stuff! This brings up two scenarios- How can the client trust that I am actually getting info from their loved one, and it wasn’t something I already knew? (The whole “well you could have found that on my facebook” scenario.) But also, how can *I* trust that the information I’m getting from Spirit is actually from Spirit, and not from a random memory I’d filed away?

The answer is, there is no definitive answer. But it helps that I’ve gotten better at not worrying about what the client may or may not trust. Its up to their loved ones that want to come through to bring up information or have me say things that they know will resonate. And I’ve applied that same theory for myself as well. It’s up to the Spirit team to give me information that I’ve never heard or had no way of knowing. It goes further than “they had a red car” or “she wore wire rimmed glasses.” It might be a shared memory, or even a specific phrase, which is exactly what happened with my “old friend.”

We shall now move on from “old friend” because she has an actual name- Cherie. Ha! Cherie and I don’t chat much outside of FB comments, so my knowledge of her life is fairly limited. Still, I knew the big stuff. She’s married with three kids, and I even already knew how her mom had passed. Anyway, Cherie and I met up on zoom yesterday at 3pm, and let me tell you, I was prepping this noggin at noon. Somehow I managed to pass three hours, alternatively quieting my mind and asking my Spirit crew for help, and it felt like minutes. Its not hard to concentrate, though, when I recognize the weight of the situation and my responsibility to it. Think about it- this woman has been patiently waiting for weeks for this appointment to TALK TO HER PARENTS… that are not alive anymore. I CANNOT f**k this up. You know? That’s HEAVY.

(Quick aside, I called Cherie today to confirm some details, and she told me, “I was a skeptic until now! My mom knew I didn’t really believe in this stuff!” And then I sighed a big sigh of relief and said, “I am SO glad I didn’t know that beforehand!”)

By the time we started the reading, I was actually excited. I felt like the one piece of the equation that could fail, ME, was in a good mental space and ready. BUT, there’s still that part of knowing too much, and so when I sensed her mom in my aura, I definitely took a few extra seconds to make sure. Luckily, I think my spirit team “gets” this, and will almost always bring in someone else I don’t know, to basically usher in the spirit I do know. It worked like this in Cherie’s case… I could feel her mother up and to my left (not that that matters- it’s just interesting) and then I could sense HER mother, up more towards the center. I knew then that I was going to connect with the grandmother first, but I could also sense grandmother’s husband as well as Cherie’s father. My highly professional illustration should really sort this out:

I turned my attention to Cherie’s grandmother, who gave a few bits of information about being stricter with her sons, and even mentioned one son in particular, that he would have been the “bad boy” of the group- gotten away with more, but was also the “favorite.” As grandma was blending with me, I could also feel mom blending as well. It was as if their Spirit lines were getting crossed. I now realize that the info I was getting at that point rang true for both of them: “multiple sons,” and then bringing up one son in particular. In grandmas situation, it was regarding her youngest son that had also passed away. In Mom’s messages, it was regarding Cherie’s middle son, one she was extremely close to. (These details may be confusing and probably unnecessary – but I want to point it out because it’s something I need to work on!)

After just a few minutes, Grandma stepped back to allow Mom to come in fully. I turned my attention to Mom, and could tell she was apprehensive. I could feel how big this moment was for her, so much so that I struggled to contain my own emotions. She had been waiting for this moment, but wanted to make sure it was right- as in, she also wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to f**k this up! When she finally blended with me fully, it was intense. I could feel how overcome she was to finally connect with her daughter.

Initially, Mom gave me the feeling of being shocked by her own death. She passed after complications from a heart transplant, which in hindsight we can agree is risky, but to her it was completely unexpected. She gave me the feeling that she was ready to live for 200 years! She told me that she was at first uneasy with passing because she was such a helper to everyone, but then she saw that everyone did manage without her, and she was very pleased.

I then kept hearing “Shaan Shaan Shaan,” which I already knew is Cherie’s child. Again, this is where it gets hard, because I already KNOW this information, so the name itself wasn’t evidence. But when I told Cherie what I was hearing, she said, “Oh my God” out loud. Mom said she was worried about him the most, and also brought up him playing a sport. I really struggled with this part of the message, as I could tell she was showing me something specific about Shaan and this sport – as if there was a moment she wanted to me to recognize. I never could quite put it together. It was only AFTER the reading, I found out that Shaan had begged Cherie to be there for it, but she has insisted he go to his lacrosse practice. So he was AT practice, and his grandmother was trying so hard to explain that to me. (Just shows me some of the info I can get better at clarifying. I still have lots of work to do!)

Cherie’s beautiful mom with Cherie’s son Shaan, awaiting her new heart.

Cherie’s mom then showed me a watch on her wrist, and I knew that her being in the hospital was a significant piece of the information related to this. I kept trying to get more (again, I’ll get better!) but all I could get was that she was in the hospital with this watch, and was taking it off and giving it to Cherie. Thinking this was pretty generic, I told Cherie sort of with a shrug in my shoulders. ‘She’s showing me this watch. She in the hospital with it and she’s taking it off to give to you.” Cherie then said, “well she did have a watch, and I have it, not my sister.” Later she clarified with a text, “This is the watch on my bathroom vanity I see everyday. The transplant team gave it to my mom after her heart transplant. She told me to take it.”

Some of the other things Mom was telling me also seemed of the generic fare, so I wasn’t going back to Cherie often and asking for clarity or acknowledgement. For example, Mom went on to thank Cherie’s husband- described him as a totem pole of strength for the family to lean on after her passing. She then also showed me a visiual of Cherie seated and leaning over, immersed in a moment of remembrance and sorrow. Mom showed me that at those moments, she is kneeling down in front of Cherie holding her hands, looking right up at her. Now, this is one of those times that the info can seem generic, but Spirit manages to slip some real evidence in. I could tell Mom wanted me to delve into this further. So instead of just moving on to the next bit of info, Spirit gives you this cue that “you’re not there yet.” So I knew there was more to this. I then felt Mom was frustrated because Cherie’s mind had been too “busy” for Mom to get through. I could tell Mom was trying, but Cherie wasn’t recognizing it. And this is where it becomes evidential for me- because 9 times out of 10, my client will say, “oh i feel them around me all the time! I know they’re here!”- but I knew this was not the case for Cherie.

I asked and she confirmed, “No I never feel like that!” So what her mom was doing was not giving me a memory of Cherie, but handing out instructions on HOW to feel her, how to connect. (This is good info for all of us! Are you ready? Take notes if you must!) If you want to feel your loved ones from the other side, take the time to sit and THINK of them! Get yourself away from distractions and remember! (Heck, Cherie’s mom was encouraging Cherie to go into the bathroom and close the door so she could have that time!) Let yourself be taken over by the emotions. We try so hard to pack it away sometimes so we don’t feel the sadness, but we NEED to FEEL. And it is in those moments where they are closest to us. And- and this is a big one for me– give yourself permission to believe. It doesn’t have to be that the lights flicker on and off, or a plate flies across the room… give yourself permission to believe that the subtle shift of energy you might feel, or even just that knowing in your gut, means they are with you right then.

One of the final pieces of evidence Cherie’s mom gave, again, didn’t seem like evidence at all at first. Mom showed me a bird of prey, almost like a falcon face, and compared herself to this bird…How she felt so able bodied and strong now. She had me repeat to Cherie, “I am not meek. I am in charge. You’d be proud of me. I’m being very proactive, not reactive.” I was merrily repeating these “generic” words when Mom stopped. I waited for more but she made me feel that she wasn’t moving on until I went and confirmed this with Cherie. So I did- “Cherie, do you understand that? That she’s being proactive now and not reactive? She’s not moving on until I acknowledge this with you…”

Cherie’s eyes were wide and she laughed and said, “I used to get so mad at her and tell her, ‘You need to be more proactive and not reactive!’ I would use those EXACT words!”

(And that, my friend, is the kind of stuff I haven’t seen on FB or stored in the recesses of my brain. Thank you, Spirit!)

We were finishing up the reading, and in a moment of being distracted, I decided the candle I was burning needed to get put out. So I blew it out and as I did I heard “red.” I stayed staring at the candle for a second, trying to get more, when my attention was pulled to the corner of my computer screen. Cherie was wearing a red shirt. “Well that’s CERTAINLY not evidence” I thought to myself – but at the same time, I knew “red” didn’t come from my own mind. “I know you’re wearing a red sweater, but I just got the word red, and I don’t know what that means,” I told her. Cherie then explained that her mother used to tell her that red was a bad color for Cherie (or anyone!) to wear, that it would bring her bad luck. And here she was wearing it on the day of the reading! Haha! Mom clearly couldn’t let that one slide…

As Cherie and I finally wrapped things up, she told me something that was extremely touching, and I will never forget the pride I felt for what I am able to do. Cherie said that before her moms surgery that they had spoken about the possibility that things could go wrong. And Cherie told her mom about what I do, and that someday when she does go, whenever that is, that Cherie is going to “reach out to Holly and see if it works” and that meant Mom had to “find Holly somehow.”

Well, she found me.

And it worked. ❤️

My first “Reading”

I have a girlfriend who has been intently involved with my medium-y thing since the second spiritual experience.  She knows I’m not bullshitting, she believes all of it, and thus…

She’s a safe bet for my first reading.

I should mention this before I keep going: even though we have this spiritual trust,  I haven’t known her too long.  I did NOT know the ins and outs of her family life. I knew she has a brother who has passed within the past few years, but that was about it.  But… I also had a pull to her. As much as I passed this off as practice, I also had a push from beyond, if you will, that it be her I practice on.

I asked her for permission not long after the Houston medium class. I needed to put these new skills to a real world test.  My Houston teacher taught us to pre-read: To get info from Spirit as a starting point before the actual sit down face to face reading.  So, I sat down with my pad of paper and pen and sat in my bed propped up against my headboard. Lights were dim, doors were closed, and husband was squirreled away in the media room watching some sort of sporting event that would keep him occupied for a bit.  I wrote her name down at the top of the paper and basically just put it out there, “Does anyone want to give Amy XXXXX a message?”

From there I closed my eyes and cleared my head as best I could (I think this is where the meditating practice comes in. It’s not always easy to clear your head.  Basically, if my head is clear and an “idea” pops in, I have to trust that its Spirit. Not that I always do. Some ideas seem so basic and easy to come by that I have a very hard time thinking it didn’t come from me.)  The first thing I hear is “Grandpa Jack”  then, “tradesman” and “worked with his hands.”

(I should clarify, also, I will use “hear” often, but that not really what happens. The best way I can describe it is really just like I said, its like an idea popped into your head. There is no voice to hear, it’s just like, now you think THIS! And then THAT!  I will also use “see,” much in the same way. I have never seen a spirit in the way we see things… it’s just like, I know they are there… Yeah that doesn’t help, does it….)

Next in the pre-read, I see a guy being dragged to me. Lightheartedly, though.  There were men on each of his sides, their arms hooked under his armpits, and his heels were basically stopping in front of him with every step like brakes. It wasn’t in a serious way, almost like he knew he had to come, but still didn’t want to. I guess it was his way of showing his reluctance.  And just like that- Amy’s brother is right in front of me.  (How did I know who it was? … I don’t know. I just did. It was like he told me without telling me.) So I said/thought, “Why are you bummed?” (Yes, that’s really what came out of my head. It happened fast. I’m doing my best here.)

“I’m bummed because I could have stayed longer.”

As with all good tales, this doesn’t go smoothly. Right after that moment, my husband opened the door, startling me.  I fumbled to quickly shut my notebook, embarrassed at how silly this could all seem.  I still felt like this my was my dirty secret, that I wanted this to work so badly.

“What are you writing?”

“Ummm, just my stuff.”

“Then why’d you close it so fast?”

CAUGHT. “I’m just seeing if anyone has any messages for Amy.”

“Oh…. Ok. Well… don’t let me bother you.”

My meditation was done for that evening.

***

Now ideally, I would have set up the sit down reading with Amy for the next day, but every time we tried, something kept getting in the way.  In hindsight, I think there was a fear and reluctance on both of our parts. I know for me, I was extremely worried about getting it right. What if none of this made any sense to her?  Names are super specific.  You could have all the other details right but if the name is wrong, the whole message can get lost to the recipient.  (The medium in Houston actually had said she doesn’t like to use names because of that… which made sense at first but then also made me a bit skeptical of her. Is she not getting them? Is she making shit up? I dunno. I think it probably has to do with the way different mediums receive information. Maybe she just doesn’t get the clear names like I do.)  BUT, “Grandpa Jack” basically WAS the only thing I had so far…So if that is wrong…? Not that I was worried about convincing her – I was probably more worried about convincing MYSELF.  I am my own biggest skeptic (and of course more so of everyone else.)  Up until now, I have made damn sure, probably to a fault, that the info I’m telling you is coming from your loved one is not coming from Holly’s own brain. Even with the Henry story, I’m convinced that encounter could have gone much more smoothly if I’d JUST GOTTEN OUT OF MY OWN WAY.  Maybe he could have told her so much more?!

Sidenote: (I actually asked this question to “my peeps” this morning as I was lamenting about the fear I have about being right combined with getting enough info to be useful. I hardly finished the thought when I heard, “You don’t have to be right.  You just have to LISTEN.”)  Whoa.  (Sidenote to sidenote: husband just asked- “who are your peeps?” That’d be spirit guides. 🙂

***

It was probably a week later that I saw Amy next. We were walking to our car from an event we had both attended and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.  I had to know, “Do you have a Grandpa Jack?”

“Yes, I do.”

This is where I went full tilt on chills. I was turning my head and rolling my shoulders and shaking my legs and hands trying to get rid of the heebie jeebies.  Maybe that’s not the right word though: I’m not scared, it’s not gross, it’s just… FREAKING FREAKY.  And I am STILL just… flabbergasted that this can happen. Like, this is FORREALS.

Another friend was also with us and she pipes in, “Is this that ghost stuff? I have a Grandpa Jack too!”

Amy calmly replies, “Yeah, but yours hasn’t been dead for six months.”

OK. So now that we’ve established she has a grandpa Jack, I press on and tell her, “I also heard, “tradesman,” and “worked with his hands.”

Amy answered, “Well, his job job was with IBM, but his passion was woodworking.”

Again, there goes the chicken skin! Not only was that info correct, but earlier that same day, I had been talking to another woman and had used the company IBM as an example. Right after I said it, I actually thought to myself, “why the heck did I just say IBM? So random.”  I conveyed this info to Amy, and after some shrieks and “wows” I felt confident enough to proceed with my pre-read. But, I didn’t tell her about the brother being dragged in just yet…

***

A few days later, when no one was home, I sat down again with my notebook. I didn’t have much to go on, so I was going to give this pre-reading another go. I hardly even was able to close my eyes and the same brother who was drug in on his heels before was now rushing to me in excitement. He was eager and ready to talk!

“God I love her! She kind, generous, knowledgable, and she’s my savior!”

I tried to go through my list of questions I’d been taught, “What do you look like?” He told me he had been “chunky.” I asked if he had the same hair color as his sister and he replied, “well kind of, but not like hers! She dyes it!”

He mentioned a few other small things, one being that he had worked with his dad, but then gave me the name “Scott.”  I wrote it down, fingers crossed this was the brother’s name.  I was certain she had mentioned her brother’s name to me in the past but I couldn’t remember… was it Scott? Again, names are SO DANG SPECIFIC.

There were a few more basic things, but all very random. The information was just short snippets.  I basically ended up with whole bunch of (seemingly) random bits that I had no idea how or even if they tied together.  And there certainly wasn’t a message that I could tell.  When the brother stopped giving info, I had a faint energy of a grandmother come in -who only mentioned jewelry/a ring- and then I made a call out to Grandpa once more, “Grandpa Jack, you there?”

“I’m here!” he waved from a far corner, hanging out in a chair. “I had to go, but the kids are fine and they know where to find me.”

***

(Full disclosure: It was another week (maybe two?) before Amy and I met up for the sit down reading part. Prior to that, I couldn’t get the “Scott” portion of the info out of my head. Was that her brother’s name? It was killing me.  I went in to Facebook and scrolled through her pictures from years ago, hoping to find out for sure. I didn’t take long to find him, but no… his name was not Scott.  UGH. I’M A FAILURE.

I meet up with Amy a few days later, armed with my notepad and LOTS of nerves. I just wanted this to go right, for her AND me. Will I be able to “communicate” with Spirit once I’m sitting in front of her?  If I blow this reading, then what?   Am I not cut out for this? Do I have to wait for them to come to me again in some crazy way that I’m not prepared for? What if it never happens again?

We sit at a table in the way way back of a Mexican restaurant. We could get away from the people, but not from the constant mariachi music blowing from the speakers.  Oh well, this will have to do. There will always be some sort of distraction, I guess. Lets just see what happens.

I start off by reading my notes. I told her about her brother being reluctant at first, but then how he had such enthusiasm to talk to me the next time. She laughed a knowing laugh and told me that when her brother was alive he was the most anti-medium person you’d ever meet. He thought it was a one way ticket to bad bad things and wanted nothing to do with it. She thought him being dragged in was hilarious, because it made total sense.

I told her how he said he was bummed because he “could’ve stayed longer.” I read the part to her about her being generous, and knowledgable, and his saviour. I told her how he described himself as chunky, and that he had worked with his dad.  She confirmed it was all true, even that her brother had owned a business with her dad in the past.

But then we came to the name Scott.  I actually put my hand over it on my notes so she couldn’t see it, while confessing that I had already looked on Facebook to check if what I had written was her brother’s name.   Knowing I was moments away from a metaphoric punch in the gut, I move my hand and say, “So… who is Scott then?”

Amy’s eyes got wide and she exclaimed, “Scott is my nephew!”

WHAT?!?!?!!  DUUUUUUUUUUDE.

Amy then  told me, “but he’s my other brother’s son. I wonder why he would bring him up?”  I was excited that I wasn’t going crazy, but also kind of shrugged my shoulders because I hadn’t received any other info than the name… so I moved on. I took her through the rest of my notes,  about Grandpa Jack, and the grandmother with the jewelry. Amy confirmed that her daughter wears Amy’s deceased grandmother’s ring every single day.

Without anything else written down, we were both a little perplexed as to what to make of all of this. Like i said before, it was just bits of info, but what are we supposed to do with it?  Like the outline of a play that you haven’t fully written yet. The thing she was stuck on was, “Why would he mention Scott?” The only answer I had for her was that I could try to ask…

So, Mariachi music going strong, waiters bustling around me, I look down, close my eyes and ask in my head, “Why did you tell me Scott?”   IMMEDIATELY I hear, “Scott is going to have some trouble and Im going to be the one to help him I’m going to be the one in his ear.”

Whoa. Not only did the ghost just answer my question, but he just told me some seriously deep shit.   Do I tell her this? Is her nephew two years old and now she’s going to be afraid for him the rest of his days? Then I remember that I’ve read in multiple places, that Spirit won’t tell you things they don’t want repeated. They know what info their loved ones can handle.

So I tell her exactly what I heard.

Amy’s face turned into a satisfied frown as she nodded. I sat there for a moment very confused but finally ask, “Is Scott in trouble?”

“Scott is in JAIL.”

Moments like this is why I use emojis so often in my texting. The face with the mouth straight and eyes WIDE is exactly how I looked. Disbelief.  WOW.  She then started explaining the situation somewhat, but I kept hearing her brother, though, even as she spoke.  It was like he couldn’t say it enough. “I have a team of people over here working in this. So many people. Uncles you’ve never even HEARD of.”

Amy was taking it all in as I instantly felt the need to go back over my notes to her one more time. I was quickly rereading them to her, “he says you were generous, knowledgable and his savior…” and then the brother words flowed right out of my mouth as I put my pencil down next to the word ‘savior’ and drew a hard line directly to where I had written ‘Scott’ and circled his name while saying, “BUT YOU ARE NOT HIS.”

THIS was the message.  THIS was why we were there that day.  Amy needed to stop worrying about saving Scott. Her brother was on it.

Apparently, Scott’s father (Amy’s living brother) had had enough of his sons trouble making and had washed his hands clean of the situation out of desperation.  It had fallen on Amy and her other brother to try to help Scott get back on track after that.  Now that the other brother was gone, Amy was feeling hopeless and wasn’t sure how to handle it anymore.   All of a sudden I knew what he meant by “I could have stayed longer.”  As soon as I thought this, he affirmed it and added, “There’s more I could have done” and “strange turn of events.”

As I told this to Amy, again she nodded. This all made sense to her. They had, as siblings, made big plans. Their mother had been very ill, and so they were arranging to take their father traveling after her impending death. It was a ‘strange turn of events’ when all of a sudden her father passed before her mother, and then soon after, her brother unexpectedly, too. And now Scott in jail. Amy knew exactly what he meant with that message. To her it was an understatement. 

It took me this particular  reading experience to realize that I had started out with this set of notes that at first glance meant nothing. (Hence, the nerves) And only with her input (along with Spirit’s ) were we able to take it further. It showed me that even if to me it looks like I don’t have a lot, everything I need to get the message across is right there.  Although I still wonder… like… why didn’t Grandpa Jack just say, “I loved woodworking?” Why’d he have to give me the whole roundabout “tradesman who worked with his hands” deal? ha!  But again, I need to learn to set aside my fears and… trust it. Or as spirit said, “Just LISTEN.”

*I would normally end this here- but I have to finish up with Grandpa Jack. This guy was a character. I’ve had the pleasure of channeling a couple of spirits where you get a good idea of exactly what their personality was like, and he was full of it. Before we ended our reading, I asked Amy about him. I told her I could tell he was a spitfire and she verified that absolutely he was.  She actually was starting to tell me about the accident he’d had, when I hear him say ,”It was STUPID.” Well, Amy confirmed, it was indeed stupid. He had been trying to kill a bug and fell and broke his hip. (He ended up in the hospital where he deteriorated quickly.)  I could see Grandpa Jack still acting defiantly and rolling his eyes as she told me the rest of his story, and we ended with a chuckle and a hug.

Oh wait- lets take a step backward.

Whoops! I went a little out of order.

In doing this blog, one of my main objectives is to tell the story from the beginning.  We have many mediums that we have access to; we can watch them on TV, read their books, listen to their podcasts… but it seems to me like the stories always gloss over the how to’s, and get right to the part about proof and validation.  It’s always the same iteration of “Well I’ve been seeing ghosts since I was ten.  And now I have your grandmother here who is showing me a turquoise watch.”

Then everyone goes, “OOOOOHHHH, my grandma DID have a turquoise watch!”

Meanwhile I’ve been the one yelling at the TV going, “wait WHAT? BACKUP. Tell me about the ghosts! What did they say? What did they look like?”

So that’s the journey I want to take you on. I have NO IDEA where my life will be in a year, two, or ten. I don’t have any desires to be on TV, have people pay to go on cruises with me, or ask anyone to spend $500 for a reading on a two year waiting list.  (Yet, anyway.  *WINK* haha! I’m not knocking it- it’s just not where I’m at.)

I just want to A) continue to learn and have extremely badass spiritual experiences happen (is that too much to ask? 😉 )  and B) to share them when they do.  Really, though, I feel like we are all finding this out together, and sometimes I’m the only one that can see the movie so I just have to tell you all about it as it goes along, you know?

Anyhow, I realized I had another story to tell when after my “coming out” a few days ago, I got a few specific email messages from friends. They were wondering if, when I’m around them, I’ve ever had any “feelings” about their loved ones who have passed away.  Here’s the deal: if you would have asked me that prior to the Henry incident, I would have looked at you like you were nutso.  But now? Well, I’m not so sure.  Let me explain…

Near the end of last year (2015), I attended a swanky party with some old friends. This was just a couple months after the Henry Incident, and I hadn’t yet had any real guidance about the whole situation. I’d discussed it with close friends and family somewhat, but my head was (almost literally) still spinning. At that point, the biggest long term goal I had was to read a few books I’d found on some, again, WEIRD, spiritual internet site.

I hadn’t been at the party very long when in walked a woman who I had known ABOUT, but had never met in real life.  I knew she had lost her sister (again in a very unexpected way) and suffice to say, they had been EXTREMELY close.  We were introduced and all standing around in circle of about, maybe 15 people. Her name was Annie*, and after the introduction, I was standing directly to her right. Within just a few moments of our meeting, I felt my body leaning towards her. I actually wanted to not only touch my arm to hers, but to lean my head on her shoulder!

The whole mental process went quickly. My head was leaning in slowly, but touchdown was approaching fast!  I had to overcome the deep desire to physically comfort this woman, with the absolute knowledge that this would be a bad scene for me.  (Our direct circle was of 15 people, but that was inside a PARTY of, oh I don’t know… 200?)  I remember pulling away from her defiantly and giving myself an internally stern “No! This cannot happen right now!”  I stood up straight and moved over a few inches and tried to rejoin the conversation.   Of course I didn’t hear a thing anyone was saying.  My head felt like a radio trying to tune in. That’s the only sound I could hear.  (I don’t even know how to spell that phonetically?! WHHHEEEEEOHHHHHHHH WHHEEEOOHHH? But take out the fluctuating “ZEEEOUUUS” of radio tuning and add more crackle. Makes perfect sense, right?)  All I could envision was a repeat of the Henry scene, but now in front of 200 people I didn’t know!  Me- sobbing hysterically in the bar? A crowd of people standing around wondering what was happening?  NUUU UHH!

I just needed to get away from her, I figured.  (To be clear, I now have the privilege of 20/20 hindsight. I don’t know at what point I was finally convinced this was a spirit and not me just being weird… but it certainly took a while.  And remember, I had yet to talk to the weird medium in Houston from the previous post, so I didn’t yet have the tools to try to channel Annie’s sister any differently.) I made a beeline for the lobby and sat down in one of those swallow you up chairs that was tucked in a hidden corner and again tried to re-ground myself.  Deep breathing, eyes closed… This was the point when I started entertaining the idea of pulling Annie aside to tell her… tell her WHAT? Good God how do I explain this?  I knew it was either that or I leave the party, which I would have gladly done, but then I struggled with, “If it was my sister, wouldn’t I want to know?”  I even actually started telling Annie’s sister, “Listen- I would love to help you but I don’t know how the heck to navigate this. You can’t just make me feel weird! You have to give me something to tell her.”

Having calmed myself down a bit, (and knowing people were going to start looking for me) I took a few more deep breaths, got some food and a soda water (Not wine! Gotta be clear headed for messages!) and made my way to a table to eat, AWAY from the bar.   Lo and behold guess who comes and sits down at the table to eat her food?  Yep. Annie.   She didn’t sit right next to me-  It was a large circular table and she was on the other side- but man did I feel her presence.

Another friend’s husband was seated next to me and he was politely making small talk, “So how have you been? What are you guys doing nowadays?”  Well, anyone who knows me knows that I have TONS to tell, and I love to talk!  I have three kids who all do amazing things and an awesome husband who is opening up a golf course with Tee Dub!   I mean, C’MON! Where do I start, right?  So I answer with,
“fine. Not much.”

All the while I keep shifting my eyes towards Annie. The anxiety was really kicking in now, so I excused myself as best I could and made a beeline for the bathroom… or the exit. I wasn’t sure where I was going to end up.  On my way out I passed my girlfriend who I had come with.  She was talking to another friend but noticed me and paused her conversation to ask where I was headed. I tried to make some neutral sign like I was just heading to the bathroom,  but I just burst into tears instead.  I had lost it- I didn’t know WHAT to do at that moment.

The two girls followed me up the stairs where I proceed to tell them what was happening. I had told my friend about the Henry incident, but we didn’t discuss it enough for me to be convinced that SHE was convinced.  Again, I come at her with, “Remember that thing I told you about? Well it’s happening again.” (This is my new tagline, apparently.) We go back and forth about the ramifications and the what ifs (Should we tell Annie? Is she open to this? Will she freak?) and I finally just make a decision: “Yes. Go get her.”

I don’t know what my friend said or how she approached her, but within two minutes, Annie was being led up the stairs to me wide-eyed and with trepidation.  I must also note that Annie seems beautiful, graceful, gentle… the kind of girl that at the get-go makes me feel like a big bounding puppy.  Which just made this even more nerve wracking.  She could tell I had been crying, and I nervously laughed through my tears and just said, “Can I talk  to you for a minute?” We walked into a separate rarely used women’s lounge and sat down at a table.  Nervous and anxiety riddled, I blathered on about the Henry story, trying to tell it in as few words as possible as to not lose my new audience in the rambling.  “So I had this thing happen and now from the moment I met you your sister will not let up! Every time I get close to you it’s like this electrical current and I can’t think of anything else! I thought of just leaving but I couldn’t imagine having your sister trying so hard to communicate with you and me not telling you about it, but I don’t really have a message I just know she’s here.”

Annie smiled and was calmly reassuring to me, “It’s ok.” I don’t remember exactly, but she even added something about being into this stuff. She told me she was on a waiting list to see the Long Island Medium.

“Oh wow! Ok!” I was so relieved to know she was open to what was happening. I explained to her that I really have no idea what the heck I’m doing but…I guess maybe I could hold her hand and see if I can get anything?

So that’s what I did. I took her hands, closed my eyes, and tried to quiet my brain.  I know I “got” a couple of things, but I still wasn’t sure what I was hearing wasn’t just me making stuff up.  Remember how I said the women’s lounge was rarely used? Yeah, well, tonight I had a parade of lounge goers. Some of them were there just by coincidence, others had noticed the commotion and tried to pretend they, too, were just there for a break as they passed by.  Needless to say, I certainly wasn’t feeling comfortable to sit there holding Annie’s hand in silence for very long.  (I’ve also since learned that stress is one of the biggest blocks. And of course, this was a stressful situation for me!) I must have waded through it because I remember telling Annie, “She loves you. And she misses you and the kids.”

I tried to explain once again that while I could sense her sister was there, I just didn’t really know what the message was.  Yet as I told her this- my whole… whats the word… self? Focus? Attitude? I don’t know that I can explain it. Something shifted. It was like all of a sudden the anxiety washed away and Annie’s sister made me feel that this was all she was asking for. She was perfectly content with me holding Annie’s hand, looking into her eyes, and Annie KNOWING that she was there.

And that’s exactly what I told Annie, hoping it was enough.  Annie replied, and I knew I had done the right thing. “Wednesday is the anniversary of my sister’s death. I have a really rough week ahead. And this is going to make it a lot easier.”

I knew then, this was no coincidence. We hugged and I told her if I ever figured this medium thing out, I’d get in touch with her to make sure we “got” it all.  I walked back downstairs and rejoined the party- all the anxiety (and mascara) now absolutely gone.

(Quick note: When I rejoined the party, another old friend approached me and gave the “whats the deal?” look.  Not having the mental energy to make anything up, I unenthusiastically said something like, “Weellllll, I had this experience recently with this kid jumping into my body to talk to his mom and now I’m kind of getting some of those vibes tonight.”

She answers, “Oh GIRRRRL, that’s nothing. I’ve been seeing ghosts since I was six.”

Yeah, we’ll come back to that one soon.)

Now that I’ve told that story, back around to what made me think of it: the emails from my friends asking if I’ve ever felt “things” around them.  Well, here’s what I figured out. If I had been in that same situation WITHOUT the Henry incident to go on- I would have written the whole party night experience off as random anxiety. The uneasiness would have probably made me go full introvert and leave early, or even more probable, drink!  Three glasses of wine will certainly (unknowingly) put Spirit in it’s place! (FYI, Now that I’m all medium-y I like to capitalize ‘Spirit’.) Anyway, I certainly wouldn’t have had the catalogue to even contemplate that it might be spiritual energy.

So have I felt weird around friends? Maybe! But if I did, I didn’t know well enough to know what was making me feel that way, and I probably either left, or (again, lets be real here) drank with you.   Odds are, there have been numerous situations where a spirit was trying to grab my attention, but I never took notice until two of them, 15 years apart, basically hit me over the head with a cast iron skillet ghost whomp.

Do I have a few more stories to catch you up to where I am today? Yes. And the next one I’m gonna tell you is so badass it gives me the chills and the willies at the same time.  But in terms of where I’m at in my learning, at this very moment, I am in the same place as when I left that party. I’m really just trying to intercept messages before they become… frying pans.

 

 

So now what?

In search of answers and help- I started telling my spirit story to people that I trust.   Everything on the internet seems so hocus pocus or what they call  “Woo”-ish that it tends to be off putting. Why does everything that has to do with “the other side” also have to have crystals and tarot cards and candles and… weird shit?  Still, the only people I have yet found to talk to (that say they are mediums) are, yes, weird. (But, helpful also, as it turns out!) I discovered a woman about an hour away that was giving a “medium” class in her home.  Two days- i think it was $80- what could it hurt, right?

I show up and the teacher hands out, what else, CRYSTALS.  Jiminy Christmas.  They are purple and supposed to help with… something.  There were two other people in my class- both in their early twenties and very normal looking (yay!).  The teacher, though, is a bit older than me with dark orange hair and blunt bangs just above her eyebrows, kind of like a 50 year old “emo” woman.  I had to talk myself into putting aside my preconceived notions of the weirdness and remember I was here to learn, so I hung the crystal around my neck.

The first day was filled with lots of information, mostly about how different mediums get their info (clairvoyance, clairsentience, etc.)  and the different types of mediumship (trance, physical, etc.) The teacher told me she’d like me to get to a place where a spirit didn’t have to take over my body to get me to convey information. (Novel idea, huh?)  That I could actually say “no” to a spirit that was giving me messages that way and ask to do it differently. It made sense, as the “Henry” experience had literally left me exhausted for two days. It was all interesting, but I still felt like maybe these experiences I’d had were flukes, that it wasn’t going to happen again, that I just didn’t have the right brain.  I felt like I was no where nearer figuring out my next step.

Day two, however, It all became a little more clear for me.  That next day’s lesson was hands on- we were going to try out our skills.  Guess what the weird teacher pulls out?  Tarot cards.  UGH.

We were to take turns thinking of a question and having the other then try to read the answer from the card.  I don’t even remember what my secret question was or how the other student read me, but a funny thing happened when I did a reading for him.  He picks out five random cards (which are apparently not random at all. I say that slightly sarcastically but then again- not really- because who am I to say something is crazy at this point?) Anyway- he has thought of a question he wants some guidance on and I am supposed to look at the cards and answer him.

Ummm. I got nothing.  I have no idea how the serendipity card mixed with the marriage card affects you, dude.

After staring at the tarot deck for 30 seconds (which is an eternity when everyone is staring back at me) I finally had a “f**k it” moment, and decided to do things my way. I grabbed my pad of paper and pen and closed my eyes.  Immediately I got  “Timothy” and “motorcycle accident,” and then saw a windy two lane road.  (By the way- I’ll try to explain this more later, but when I hear something or see it, it’s not really different than my own thoughts, so sometimes its hard to discern. Especially in the very beginning- how did I know I wasn’t just making this up?)

“Alright,” I started, feeling somewhat overwhelmed, “I have no idea what this has to do with the tarot cards but i just saw a two lane road and heard motorcycle accident, and this may or may not have to do with a guy named Timothy.”

“Yeaaaaaaah… no. That wasn’t my question,” he told me. “I wanted to know whether I should go to my grandmothers house for Christmas or not.”

“Well, don’t drive a motorcycle there I guess,” I told him, rolling my eyes at my defeat. I felt like I was wasting my time here- again that maybe this channeling stuff was just a sporadic thing that will happen to me every decade or so. But then the guy says to the teacher, “Hey wait- remember my old coworker Timothy who died in the motorcycle accident?”

“Oh yeah,” the teacher commented, “he came through at your reading with me as well!”

I sat there eyes wide open.  My heart and mind raced as I realize I have actually just channeled a spirit again, QUITE EASILY IN FACT! I’m about to burst out with “it worked!” when the teacher  turned to me and said nonchalantly and dismissively “But that’s not what we’re working on. We want to get our information from the tarot cards today.”

Seriously.

 

And so it begins.

(*identifying details have been changed or removed) 

So, this thing happened. A life-changing thing. I certainly wasn’t expecting it, being as the first time it happened was 15 years prior and hadn’t happened since. It’s the sort of thing where… you know how they say, “You had to be there?” …Well, you had to be there.

I still need to tell this story, though, because the mark it has since left on my absolute existence has been profound; Spiritually, I am forever changed. And maybe, just maybe, there are some people who will still read this and (because they know me well enough to realize I’m really not THAT crazy) go “Holy shit! That’s awesome!” and then know, without a doubt, that there really is SOMETHING else.

Sit tight- this is a long one.

One thing before I start the actually story from the summer, though. You kind of have to know the background on this. I had my first spiritual experience about 15 years ago. I call it the “blue hair/yellow Cadillac” incident. (“BHYC” from here on out…) I’ll cut and paste it here from when I wrote it down in 2009. Feel free to skip if you’re familiar with it:

***

“A few years back, my husband, sister in law, and I had a long day of discussing some extended family concerns. The conversation was extremely sad and tense and emotionally charged. We felt like we were the only ones that could fix the problem, and we had to figure out how.

Later that night, I was laying in bed, sort of back and forth from reflecting on the day and just staring at the wall. All of a sudden, I had a buzz in my right ear. It was almost like a bee just hovering there, or kind of like when your fingers are dry enough that when you rub them together you can make a buzz noise. It was enough that I literally pulled away from it and gently jerked my head to the left.

Immediately, there was a sphere in front of me- about a foot in diameter. Here’s what’s hard to explain, though. I didn’t SEE it, hear it, smell it, touch it, taste it- it just WAS. I can’t explain what it looked like, because it wasn’t visual. I just knew it was there. A ball about 12 inches in diameter and about a foot in front of my face.

Just as quickly, ideas were put into the sphere. I say “ideas,” but it was as if someone was just going, you’re going to think THIS now! And now THIS! And these ideas were IN the sphere, if you will.
The ideas went, “Nanny” “Blue Hair” “Yellow Cadillac.” And then it was gone. I guess sort of knew what was going on, but I just sat there for a few minutes not only trying to process it all, but hoping it would start again…

I finally answered my husband, who had by now noticed something was up and was trying to get me to talk. I knew beforehand that his grandmother was called “nanny” by his family. I had even met her briefly before she died, so I was very familiar with the term. So I asked him, “Did Nanny drive a yellow Cadillac?”

And he answered “yes.”
“But she didn’t have blue hair, did she?”
“No.”


Hmmmm. After some more talking to him, he informed me that Nanny had had that yellow Cadillac many years back, before I knew his family, but that it was sort of her “signature car.” He also surmised that I MUST have seen a picture of her with it, and that’s how I knew. (He has still not been able to find a picture in any family books, BTW.:)

The next morning, I went out and woke up his sister from the couch. First thing I said was “What kind of car did Nanny drive?”
“Yellow Cadillac!” she said proudly.
I then repeated the same question as I had posed to my husband the night before, “But she didn’t have blue hair did she?”

“No, but her MOTHER did!”
…I can only think that “Nanny” came through to me, just trying to tell us she (and her mother) were there the whole time and knew what we were going through…”

***

So that’s the first one. Nothing since, although I have to admit I’ve watched many episodes of “Long Island Medium” and read a couple James Van Praagh books just thinking about how amazing it would be to have that gift more than once.

Cut to a few weeks ago. I got a call from a new friend of mine asking if I’d be interested in joining her and a few other of her friends and acquaintances on a girls weekend. Another girl had to drop out and they had an extra spot. The rooms were all comp-ed, so she just requested that I bring a couple bottles of wine. It was a no brainer.

I ended up in the “suite” with four other women. It was an absolutely gorgeous layout: a full living room, dining table, kitchenette, massive flat screen television encased in a thick gold ornamental frame, and even a big black shiny grand piano that played by itself (if you knew how to get it started, anyway.) There were two actual bedrooms on opposite sides of the suite. The far one (the big fancy master king one) was where our host Kim and her friend slept. I and two other women (Lena and Pam) were sharing the two queen bedroom.

The weekend itself was fairly uneventful. We made a few laps in the lazy river and chilled out in our big old suite drinking the wine we brought. It was on this “wine in the suite” night that I decided to tell  Pam about the BHYC incident. All the other girls were out gambling in the casino downstairs, or doing their own thing somewhere else, so it was just us two.
I’m not sure how/why the spiritual conversation got started, but despite her being a fairly devout Catholic, she was still surprisingly intrigued and supportive. (Usually when people hear this story with the religion filter thrown in, I get a mix of “it was your mind playing tricks on you,” or that it might be the “devil trying to trick you.”)

After that- we simply listened to our forty plus year old bodies and called it a night. We were going home the next morning and needed to get our schedules back to normal… little did I know the next day would be anything but.

The next morning, my two hotel roommates and I were in our beds watching some TV when Kim came in to chat. The rest of the women (aside from my suitemates) were back down gambling again and she had just woken up after a late night. She sat down in her robe and we were casually swapping stories when the subject of her son came up. I knew a little bit about his story; he had died a year before tragically. But now she was telling us that Monday had been his birthday. That it was a combination of details that once in place made him do something he wouldn’t have normally done. That she frantically tried her hardest to save him.

As awful as the details were, the conversation was more informative than anything. It wasn’t highly emotional: she only had a few tears run down her cheeks, and (if we’re being honest) I only teared up when I started putting Mack (my 20 year old son) in this kid’s place.

She got up to leave the room, “Well, I guess I should shower…” and I remember at that moment thinking somewhat callously, “Someone should probably give this lady a hug, but I don’t hardly even know her… these other two women know her way better than I do and THEY aren’t hugging her…” So I didn’t.

About an hour and a half later, we were finishing up packing to leave for home. I was standing at the foot of the bed my friend Lena was sitting in- she was watching a news report about some tornado damage and was apparently telling me a story about it… but at that moment my head started to get a bit fuzzy and I felt like my body was being pulled backwards. I even put my hand up to her to signal that I needed a moment…. I remember feeling like I needed to “get it together”- that I didn’t know Lena very well and here I go again with the “zoning out” thing I do to people. So, I attempted to steady myself by leaning forward and planting my feet to continue the conversation. At that same time, though, I needed to “test” it and see if I really was being pulled back. So I let go. Right away my whole upper torso went back like it was on a hinge. With my weight shifted, I stumbled to the side and held onto my suitcase. At this point I was now facing Pam, who had been sitting on the far end of the room, away from where I was being pulled. I remember looking at her, and at this time she and Lena were starting to ask questions… “Holly? Holly? Are you ok? Did I say something?”

I was processing so many thoughts at the time I never could have answered any of their questions. It was as if all at once I was questioning what was happening but also grasping what was happening. My internal dialogue was kicking in with “You are either about to faint- or maybe there is a ghost trying to tell you something wouldn’t that be cool but you are probably just going to faint but it could be that lady’s dead son coming through… faint?”

At almost the same time, a geometric plane went through my head. It was like a transparent record cover. You know the kind you would store your vinyls? It was exactly that size and it went through my forehead first, angled at about 45 degrees, and continued down stopping at my neck. Right when it finished, my whole brain did a little shake. It certainly wasn’t the loud buzz I had heard during the BHYC incident, but it was definitely a vibration.

It was at this point that the outward pull I had been feeling up until then turned into an inward push. It was no longer something else wanting me to go, I now HAD to go into the other room. I then stumbled through the connecting door into the kitchenette portion of the suite and used a bar stool to hold myself up- I was now breathing very hard and fast, and then… sobbing. Take your breath away, stomach punching sadness. That’s what I was feeling. But then again- I wasn’t sad. I couldn’t have told you why I was crying- I just was. I was now physically trying to make my way around a wall that separated the barstools from the kitchen. I still don’t know why I wasn’t able to just follow the lead- although I was still so confused and was questioning everything in my head. The “Holly” in me was still doing a “Why the hell do you need to go to the kitchen?”

Lena and Pam followed me, of course, again asking questions, “What is wrong? Do you need your medicine? Someone get her a wet towel! WHAT IS WRONG??”

By then, Kim had emerged from her room and was in the kitchen getting the towel,  and then hurried around the corner to get it to me.  As she got closer I grabbed her arm and held it tight and finally answered the girls’ question with, “this is where I need to be.” And then to answer their questions of “What’s wrong?” I said, “its not me, its her” as I pointed to Kim.

“What do you mean?”

This was when I started realizing the implications this could have on my newly formed friendships. They WERE going to think I was crazy. I’m going to HAVE to explain this…

“Remember that thing I told you about last night?” I said to Pam, “It’s happening again.”

(I then also started throwing in some nervous laughter of “I know this seems REALLY FUCKING weird. I swear you guys I’m not crazy!” between hyperventilation/sob breaths. )

I don’t know how I knew it was Henry. I just DID.  I never looked up and just said to Kim, “It’s your son. He’s here.”

Kim was quick to reassure me, “It’s ok. I’m very open to this sort of thing.” From that point- I couldn’t embrace her enough. They had me sit down on a chair and I immediately told her, “I need you to sit here” as I patted my lap. She sat down facing the side, and I embraced her midsection and cried harder.
I must tell you, that even up until the final moments of this experience, “Sane Holly” kept coming through with thoughts of how absolutely unbelievable this whole thing was. “How would I explain it to other people? How would I explain it to THESE people? Is this REALLY her son? I KNOW it’s her son but WHOA! This is NUTS!” I just continued to oscillate between deep breaths and crying and feeling the heavy sadness of Henry. It was one of these moments when I recognized the absurdity of this 60 year old woman I hardly knew who is larger than I am sitting on my lap. I said to the girls, “its interesting because it wouldn’t be weird for her to sit here if I was a strong 22 year old guy.” And then I went back to sobbing.

Kim started crying and calling out, “I miss you so much Henry, I just want to know that you are ok.”

I blurted out, “Everything is ok, except for this.” And when I said “This” I made some motion that I was talking about her and the state she is in. By the way- this is where it gets weirder, because those weren’t MY words. They were Henry’s.

I was still hugging her midsection when I felt this sense of peace wash over me. Bigger than anything I’d ever felt before. It was as if every weight of all of my worries was lifted- so extremely pure.  Analytical Holly then came out again, and I had to tell her “I feel SO peaceful. Its amazing.”

Kim replied, “me too.”

(I do want to sort of explain this before I go on- it was sort of like a split personality this whole time. I was feeling what Henry was feeling but I could also think freely as myself, and so I had sort of this back and forth between letting Henry completely in and yet also thinking my own thoughts about the situation. So when I said I was peaceful, it was because as Holly, I have NEVER felt that feeling. I don’t want to sell this part of it short, because for me it was incredible; it was like I was awash in absolute love.)

At about this time, I started feeling this “thing” at the base of my throat- it was like energy the size of a fist right over my sternum. It was Henry’s words, and I could then choose whether to say them or not. At first I didn’t trust it. I was questioning if they were MY words, because the alternative was just too crazy, right? I remember even thinking- “channeling her son is one thing but SPEAKING for him? That’s Whoopi Goldberg shit right there. I will now definitely be THE crazy girl.”

Thankfully, my girlfriends sensed that we needed some privacy, and left the room right around this time. I finally was comfortable enough to drop my guard, and I nonverbally “put it out there” to Henry, “Ok bud. I’ve got nothing going on today so lets do this” – and started saying his words.

That’s not to say he had a lot to talk about- I never got the feeling that he was trying to verbally communicate much- in hindsight I think he just wanted to comfort her, (and himself) with touch and his presence. The first thing I remember saying that was MY choice to actually say, was “I love you, Ma. I love you, Ma.”

Kim talked more, but I don’t remember exactly what all was said. From what I DO remember, much of the time was spent in silence and crying; simply hugging, embracing, or holding hands. But, there are a few exchanges I remember fairly clearly:

Kim was asking “why?!” and telling Henry she loved him, and I/Henry said “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Kim: “I told you not to. Grandma told you not to. Why did you do that?” (While Kim was “admonishing” him for what he’d done he made me think “yada yada” and like a hand was yapping next to your face- you know how you would do if someone is saying something you already know?) And then after a few second pause Henry/I said,

“I’m sorry.”

Kim: “And you and Jeff got into that argument and he’s still so upset that you didn’t get a chance to make up before you died.”

Henry: “It doesn’t matter”


Kim: I just wanted to see you get married and have kids of your own!”


Henry: “They’re here with me. The ones I was supposed to have. Everyone is here. “

I need to stop here again to explain another thing. When Henry said “it doesn’t matter,” it wasn’t just the words that he gave me, but a whole package of thoughts behind it.  So while I SAID “it doesn’t matter,” it actually meant three things. The first was what you would have expected- that a petty fight between friends doesn’t matter anymore. But what was also given to me was, “all this petty bullshit that you deal with on a day to day basis DOESN’T FU**ING MATTER.” The third meaning was “it doesn’t matter what you or anyone does on this earthly plane, we will all end up in the same place.”

Yeah, let THAT sink in!

Also, when he replied “they’re here with me” it was initially the only thing he said. But it was as if he realized how confusing that would sound, and I actually felt him feel the need to follow it up quickly with the explanation of “the ones I was supposed to have.”

The final exchange followed more hugs and tears in silence, and for me it was the most profound. This was the moment (as if I needed any more proof) that “Rational Holly” knew she wasn’t crazy. We were sitting in chairs facing each other holding hands and I said, “I gotta go.” At that point Kim asked another question , but I don’t remember even listening to it. My reply was, “I don’t want to, but I gotta go.” I then leaned in and once again embraced Kim’s midsection, sobbing some more. That probably lasted 10 seconds until all of a sudden it was as if someone flipped the switch. My eyes opened wide and I threw my arms to the side as if to manually release the hug…. “He’s gone!”

I quickly stood up and exclaimed “He’s gone! Holy shit! THAT WAS NUTS!” Kim looked at me confused and I had to apologize. Henry had left-  leaving “Holly” to now take in this wondrous experience, in the way Holly would, of course… with some inappropriate language. Thankfully Kim understood and I jerked my head back and forth for a few seconds looking for my other girlfriends in a “Did you SEE THAT?” way.

Immediately I found myself backing up to the wall and sliding down in complete exhaustion. I was propped up against the wall and could hardly even hold my head up. I was trying to catch my breath and was simultaneously realizing that there were now a few more people in the room that I hadn’t seen enter. “Oh wow. You just saw that… I’m really not crazy, I promise” was all I could muster.

Much like the “it doesn’t matter exchange,” the “I gotta go” also held some deeper meaning. I knew when he said it, that it was for me. He didn’t want to go, but also knew how taxing this was for me and that I had done enough for them. I still find it amazing that not only could he give me his words to say but that he could impress to me that meaning of them at the same time.

By then, it was time to leave. The girls already had my bags at the door and everyone was waiting on us.  As I sat then down in the lobby, sunken into the bench to await the car, i remember starting to think to myself “Why here? Why now?” when Kim started talking.  She told me that the day before, she had been on a walk by herself and had broken down, pleading with Henry to please just give her a sign that he was OK.

I guess he figured out a way.