Will Paint for “My People”

*(Really quick- before I get into the latest goings on- I just want to sort of set the story straight about being “spiritually stabbed” from my last post. I’ve since heard that story gave a few people the heebie-jeebies and seemed a little frightening.  In hindsight, I probably told the story a little too casually.  So to clarify, I never felt like I was actually being stabbed. The pain in my back was not bad at all, it was just that spirit’s way of letting me know what had happened to him, and certainly wasn’t malicious or evil or scary in any way. To be clear- I have never encountered anything/anyone from the spirit realm that felt even remotely bad, evil, or up to no good.  So far, anyway.)

Alright then- Remember the “Mystical Charms” psychic lady from the store down the road from me? Well, I recently found myself painting her living room. Full on cutting-in, rollers, ladders… the whole deal.  For about three straight hours, in between discussing what part of the wall we may have missed, the lovely Leslie answered every question I could think of about being a psychic medium.

But wait- How did I end up there????  Good question. Thanks for asking.  🙂 Ha!

Last time I blogged-  I wrote about having gone into Leslie’s shop looking for- a mentor, really.  She talked to me for a few minutes- but then basically said she didn’t have time to be a teacher, but that there was spiritual church down the road I should try.  Well… I finally went to that- and I told you I’d tell you about it. You ready for a chuckle?

I showed up at the White Eagle church a few days later in the middle of a weekday afternoon.  I ended up speaking to two lovely older women who seemed interested in what I had to say and why I was there, but not outwardly surprised. They said I needed to talk to the pastor, Jane, but she was unavailable at that moment.  It would be better, they said, if I came back to one of their weekday meditations, and Jane could speak to me afterward.

Now just so we are clear, I had been pinning a lot of hopes on this church. I was crossing every finger that I had found “my people.” I WANTED this to be my answer.  So a few days later I show up around 8:15am, and I am the only vehicle in front of the building. I get out of my car – and what do I hear cutting through the silence of the rural morning? HOWLING WOLVES.  Not one. Not three. Probably not even five. This was MANY MULTIPLE AT LEAST FIVE WOLVES.  HOWLING. (Turns out the founder of the church was also an activist- so the church grounds bordered a wolf sanctuary.)

I proceed to walk into the temple, which is a perfectly round domed room.  As such, the acoustics are… LEGIT. You can hear everything;  A sniffle, a snaffle, a shoe shuffle. (What is a snaffle? I don’t know, but you’d hear it.)  One of the women I had met initially a few days before was sitting in the circle of chairs, eyes closed and already deep in thought- wearing a flowing white robe. She whispered her greetings to me and then politely told me to scoot over, cause that’s where Jane sits.  WHOOPS. I looked around the room for a few minutes nervously while Lady1 would inject a few whispers of explanation of what I was seeing every so often.  Finally, the others showed.  And when I say “others,” I mean two other people. One being the OTHER lady I met a few days ago, and Jane.  All wearing robes.

I tried to shake the Davinci Code vibes and focus on why I was there; To learn how to meditate, and to possibly meet someone who could just tell me what the heck to do. (I also then noticed that I was the only one who hadn’t removed my shoes. Uh Oh. WHOOPSIE again.)

The mediation starts with Lady 1 reading an opening prayer. I couldn’t tell you much of what she was saying- but it was nice, I’m sure.  Lady 1 then starts the mediation. I don’t know what I expected, but it probably wasn’t this.  In our meditation we were led to imagine ourselves walking through beautiful fields to the top of a mountain where we met some very important saints- and then… made our way back down the mountain.  Yes, that’s the overly simplified version. But still, there was no mention of spirit guides, mediumship, or Spirit in the way I was looking for.

When we got down to the bottom of the mountain- there were no further instructions. No- “thank you, we are done.”  No, “see you next week.” No, “how did that make you feel?”  So, I sat there, with my eyes closed, assuming this was now the time for some self reflection and personal mediation.

This is where I should remind you of the acoustics of the room.  You can hear anything right?  Well, maybe not so much. Because after a few minutes of sitting in silence and trying to meditate but at the same time wondering what the heck I’m supposed to be doing next, I do a quick pirate eye to slyly check the room.

AHOY! Gone. They’re all gone. I’m alone.

My stomach drops and all of a sudden I’m really hoping Tom Hanks/Robert Langdon runs into the room and saves me. I actually had to hide my head and let out a “what the F^&*?” chuckle. Right about then I heard a small noise behind the door and caught them peering in at me. I realized they were wondering what the heck was doing! Oh my.  I quickly met up with everyone (all three! Big crowd!) in the hallway.  I thanked them all and lady 1 mentioned that they would love to see me back and maybe someday I’d wear the robes, too (if I wanted, of course.)

I asked Jane if I could speak to her further while she walked to her office, and we started to talk about what her church does, and what I am looking for. I must say- as much as I have made a little fun of the whole experience- these were lovely women. Jane just glows with kindness- and I really really wish it could have been my landing spot.  I would have taken the robes if it meant I had a clear path.  But it was not to be- Jane explained that while they absolutely believe in all the things I was telling her- that their church did not encourage mediumship.  She explained that the only time they allow themselves messages from “beyond” is during their meditation. Other than that – the protective curtain is drawn, so to speak.

I felt like I was back at square one.  I can’t help grieving people like that, can I?  So this church isn’t a fit- Leslie doesn’t have time for mentorship… Oh but wait! I forgot- I could just go pay for a reading from Leslie, right? And I’ll just use that time to get more info from her!

So off I go- back to Mystical Charms. “Hi! I’d like to set up a reading with Leslie.”

“Ohhh. We aren’t setting up any appointments until after the 10th,” her husband tells me.  (He runs the store while she does the readings) “We have a rental property we have do a lot of work in. Leslie is going to be painting it before the new tenants move in.”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Then, LIGHT BULB. “I can paint.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“I can paint! I will go over there and help her paint if she will just talk to me while I’m doing it! Here- I’ll give you my phone number.”

“Uhhh- ok. I’ll give her the message.”

The next afternoon, I got the call.  She gave me her address and two days later- there I was- helping Leslie paint.

I took it all in. 3 hours seemed like 30 minutes.  She reiterated the need for meditation. She taught me what to say to “protect” myself. She even told me what I need to say to my spirit guides, because lately, I haven’t been hearing them.

“Meditate and ask your guides to show you what the next step is.”  Alright, will do.

“Make sure you are listening to what Spirit and your Guides saying because if they are trying to talk to you and you keep on not listening, they may just stop trying.”  Oh no! Ok! Listening! 

“You can’t let EGO get in the way. It’s not about YOU. Ask them for forgiveness if you’ve been putting yourself first.”  Have I? Man, I’ve tried not to. But maybe..? To be sure, you can bet I’m gonna ask for forgiveness.

We went over many things- mostly small little detailed questions- mediums on TV, how different spirits communicate, how spiritualism is a much more accepted thing in Scotland so they can freely talk about it there, and children aren’t taught to suppress their gifts (as much as here, anyway.) One of the more interesting tid-bits for me was when she talked about manipulating energy.  (The medium in Houston talked about this too.) Basically, the simplified version is that you can both put ideas in people heads and also sort of make things happen.  She gave me an excercise to do: light a candle and view it through the reflection of a mirror. Concentrate on the various changing colors of the flame, and then mentally try to view the flame as all one color.  It may take a few tries, but it supposedly teaches you how to start to manipulate energy.  (Yes, I know this is a jump. Just go with me on this one. I’ll let you know when I master it. 🙂

I also asked her about those who are on the other side who had committed suicide. Did she find that there was a period of time where they couldn’t really communicate with her?  I started giving her the example of a woman I had spoke with who’s daughter had died. The mother was unsure if her daughter had taken her own life or if the daughters death was actually at the hands the boyfriend.  (In this instance- I had a very hard time getting any messages from this particular spirit. She had gotten my attention enough that I set up a meeting with her mother- but I never actually heard or saw her. She just basically made me “feel” things.) As I’m telling Leslie this, Leslie stops me with a question and an inquisitive look on her face- “was this recent?”

“Yes.”

“No. The boyfriend didn’t do it.  He could have stopped her, but he didn’t.”

I about jumped out of my skin- “that’s exactly what I told her!”  I was all at once again sad for this mother’s loss, in awe of what I was watching Leslie do, and reassured that what I had told the mother had been correct.  (I have thought about posting that particular story, but it was such an anomaly for me that I was kind of unsure about the whole thing- it was all based on how the daughter’s spirit made me feel- nothing evidential- and I had left it with the mother that we could try again down the line.)

As we were finishing up, Leslie admitted to me that she gets a lot of requests for guidance. That I’d be surprised at how many people walk into her store that have had experiences and don’t know what do about it.  She also told me that normally, she would have never taken me up on my offer, but that “something” told her to call me.   She thanked me more than once for actually doing the work (and not just talking while she painted) and told me she owed me “hours” of mentoring!  YAHOO!

As for today?  I will ask my guides to forgive my ego, ask them to show me the next step, and make damn sure I’m listening to them from now on. But,  I’m wondering if I don’t have this manipulating energy thing down a little bit already… I mean- I did get Leslie to teach me, right? And  I think I may have found my “person.”

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 cussing. 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.