“The idea of immortality…will continue to ebb and flow beneath the mists and clouds of doubt and darkness as long as love kisses the lips of death.
It is the rainbow – hope, shining upon the tears of grief.”
-Robert G. Ingersoll-
Do you believe that the spirit of your lost loved one is immortal? Does this mean that he’s not really lost to you but simply residing in a different dimension, which may be nearby and accessible to you? If you believe this to be true, have you been given any signs that he is still beside you?
Here’s a story by a friend of mine and a prolific author, Terri Elders, in which she recaps how she came to believe her late husband was sending her messages. It’s a 2010 entry from her blog, A Touch of Tarragon, which you can access by clicking here.
The Unforgotten
I’ve never been much of a believer in the supernatural, but my late husband, Ken, definitely was. In the months before he died, just a year ago today, Ken regaled me with tales of how he would come back to haunt the dogs and me.
The afternoon of the day he passed to the other side, the dogs escaped through a gate left ajar by the young man who mows my lawn. They dragged themselves home in little more than half an hour, looking sheepish. I thought then that Ken’s spirit had scolded them and sent them home.
Not long after, Gregory Kompes, who edits the wonderful “Patchwork Path” anthology series, launched a new career as a psychic and offered me a telephone consultation. He told me that Ken’s spirit indeed walked around the backyard with the dogs. I wonder if that’s why Natty, who was so attached to Ken, lies out there for hours, looking totally zoned out and blissful.
Just a few minutes ago I heard a repetitive thud/thud in the backyard and went out to find both dogs hurling themselves against the one gate that sometimes gives. I put another nail into the post and rehooked the chain to ensure they stay safely inside.
Ken told me of Houdini’s avowal to contact people from beyond. I don’t think he succeeded. But twice this year I’ve found books overturned from the case next to my writing desk in the family room. The first incident, about a month after Ken’s death, involved “Over Tumbled Graves” by Jess Walter. Ken and I met Walter when he came to the Colville Library to give a talk and dined beforehand with the Colville book group. I shivered as I set the book back in place.
Then, just last week, I spied a second book from the same case on the floor. It was Faye Kellerman’s “The Forgotten.” Both of us had been fans of Jonathan and Faye Kellerman’s mysteries. I reflected on its title. I’m not certain I am ready yet to declare myself a believer in psychic phenomena, but this is the kind of spooky coincidence that Ken adored.
So if you’re trying to send a message to me, dear spirited Spirit…I got it.
Here’s one for you: you’re not forgotten. Not today. Not ever. Your portrait still hangs in the bedroom, and I’ve added the maps of ancient Briton that you never got around to displaying. I’ll weed around your Asian lilies this afternoon and sprinkle them with deer repellant. Tonight I’ll haul down your special ceramic cup and pour you a brandy Manhattan. I’ll think of something special to commemorate you on your June 23 birthday and on what would have been our tenth anniversary on July 1.
I, too, have received messages from my late husband, similar to Terri’s experience with the books. Can you share any messages that you’ve received from your late partner or another loved one?
