This experience is one that still baffles me to this day, again, another HUGE coincidence that is simply unexplainable to some.
To be respectful of the family and person involved, I have changed the name of the individual that this blog post is about.
It starts on a summer’s day, June or July sometime around 9 or 10 years ago. I was living in my flat and my brother-in-law Russ was over, using my computer to update and print his CV. I had to pop out to pick up a parcel that had been redirected to the town post office, so I left my brother-in-law and told him I would be back in half an hour or so.
As normal, the queue for the parcel reclaim was massive and people were practically falling out of the door. I made my way to the end of the line and decided to look at my phone, what else is there to do when you are waiting?
As the queue moved along, I fumbled in my bag to grab my little red slip and my debit card for ID. I glanced up to see a man working behind the counter with bright red hair and a familiar face.
I recognised the man instantly like an old school friend from my primary years. I say friend in the loosest context, I knew of him because he was popular for all the wrong reasons. I shall call him John Smith.
I couldn’t quite believe that John Smith was working in a post office, a nice respectable, responsible job. This sounds terribly judgemental as it had been at least 16 or 17 years since I had last seen him. Obviously, a lot can change in that time.
Here is a brief history of my experience of John Smith: he was a very naughty little boy indeed and a naughty big boy too. When I started at reception, John was 2 years above me. His name was mentioned in whispers by my peers, the name John Smith sent shivers down your spine. He was always in trouble, spoke to the teachers like he didn’t care who the hell they were or what the repercussions could be, was constantly fighting other boys, picking on girls, I was (without realising it) reading his aura and if he ever came near me I would freeze or move away. I could sense that he was a troubled kid. He was unpredictable and would rage out over the slightest of things.
I had one run in with him, I seemed to of got caught in the middle of him and another scary kid in my class (James – but James was a gentle giant and he liked me) and John Smith locked James into the wrong playground, I happened to be walking behind James and thought, well, this is the end of my life as I know it. Thankfully before a fight could ensue, the teachers had sorted it out.
Anyway, I’m not quite sure what happened to John during secondary school, but I didn’t see him there much, actually, I didn’t see him there at all. I’m not sure if he went.
When I met my boyfriend Craig at the age of 19, he knew exactly who John Smith was, as my boyfriend was a family friend. He told me that John’s life had not been great, the trouble had certainly followed and led to other more serious stuff involving drugs etc, you get the picture.
Suffice to say, I hadn’t thought or talked about John Smith in years and years and years. So here I am, standing in the post office parcel collection queue and there he is! I have to say that I felt quite proud for him, that it seemed that he had turned his life around.
When it was my turn, I decided to say hello and ask him if he remembered me, I didn’t feel shy anymore and thought it would actually be nice to say hello.
So as he looked at me, I was just about to open my mouth when I realised, quite embarrassingly that he wasn’t John Smith at all, or was he? I realised that it had been so long, that it may not be him, so the doubts crept in and before I knew it, he had found my parcel and I had left, without even saying anything.
As I walked back to my car I decided that it wasn’t him but just a very uncanny resemblance.
Once I got home to the flat I decided to tell Russ about it. He also knew John Smith from years back. I was still unsure of maybe if it was or wasn’t him. Russ laughed when I told him and said “I can’t really see him working in the post office Tanya” and I had to agree.
My mobile phone then started ringing; it was Craig calling me from work, so I walked into the other room.
The conversation went like this:
Me: “What’s wrong? You sound funny?”
Craig: “I’ve just heard some really awful news”
Me: “oh my god, what’s happened?”
Craig: “You remember John Smith?”
Suddenly a cold chill descends upon me….
Craig: “He killed himself this morning”
When I got off the phone, I walked into the room where Russ was working.
“Russ you won’t believe this, but Craig just called to tell me that John Smith is dead, he killed himself this morning!”.
To this day I will never ever forget how Russ looked at me; we both didn’t know what to say.
Now, I obviously know and can be certain that it was not John Smith working at the post office. What strikes me as incredible though is, I hadn’t spoken about, saw, thought about, or had anything to do with him in so many years. And the pull was so strong, the resemblance amazing! I was so certain it was him and then on closer inspection started to doubt it. The sheer fact that he was already dead at that stage, had only probably been gone a couple of hours, why had that happened to me?
As with all these experiences, I will always put them down to my spirit team giving me these little pointers to remind me, all is not what it may seem on this earth.
As for John Smith, I’m certain that he is now in a happier place, where his mind can finally rest from its troubles.
Until next time,
Sometimes I see things I can’t explain and I do seem to “attract” unusual types of people.
One occasion stands out for me more than any other, because of the weirdness of it all and the weirdness that followed! So this story starts off around 12 years ago, it was probably 2004.
I was working in London City and had half a day in the office and had to catch my train home around lunchtime to get back to Harlow for an appointment.
I deliberately chose my carriage to try and maximise the chance of not having to sit next to another human being. After spending the morning inhaling a strangers chest hair during rush hour on the way to work, the prospect of an empty train carriage was pure bliss let me tell you! I could read my book without having to listen to anyone else’s one-sided mobile phone conversation or smell second-hand lunch food – hurray!
I was successful in my task and silently punched the air as I sat down in my seat.
So we pull away from London Liverpool Street, I open my book and breath in, feeling relaxed, knowing that everything is right in my little world and I can enjoy 45 minutes of “me” time.
At the next stop, Tottenham Hale, I look up as we pull into the station and notice one lady get onto the carriage that I’m sitting in. My heart doesn’t fall here because there are plenty of empty seats in this big old carriage, so, she can go wherever she likes can’t she….but she doesn’t? The woman decides to sit down next to me, which is an incredibly un-English thing to do I have to say. My awkwardness metre is about to go off the scale.
Now my mind is filled with questions such as “she’s got all these bloody seats that are empty and she sits next to me invading my personal space?”…or “what the hell is she doing? What if she is a psycho killer or something?”. By the way, I do need to warn you that once you get familiar with my blogs you may notice that in the past I have been a little over dramatic with my thoughts…this is something I’m working on.
As we pull away from the station I put my head down and resume with my reading. But you know that isn’t going to happen, don’t you? Before I tell you about the conversation we have, let me describe this lady.
She is dressed eccentrically. So to me, that’s, long skirt and blouse (colourful), nothing really matches, massive earrings, strange shoes. She has jet black hair and it’s very short. Big wide eyes, a friendly face.
“Hello!” she says with the enthusiasm of a friend I haven’t seen in years. I don’t need to explain my internal dialogue at this stage; you can imagine what I’m going through.
“Hello” I say back (meekly).
“What a lovely day! I’m just on my way to visit my brother in Cheshunt” says strange lady, whilst I think to myself (way too much information but great she’s getting off in a couple of stops!).
So, from this point until Cheshunt, this woman decides to speak to me non-stop, I really don’t have to contribute anything apart from a few yes’s, no’s and head shakes. She is as I would say in my hometown “on one” with this conversation and I have to be honest, I did question her mental health a few times during this whole experience. However I have to say, she seemed incredibly “with it”.
So what’s the point of this story in this blog? It’s what’s she said to me, during the 15 minutes or so we sat together, that struck me as unusual. This is what she said that stood out (amongst other stuff):
“I’m going to visit my brother in Cheshunt. His house is a number thirteen and my brother and I are two of thirteen kids! My birthday is on the thirteenth, my mum and dads wedding anniversary is on a thirteen. My brother’s favourite number is thirteen and so is mine. So, a thirteen isn’t unlucky is it?”
“Erm, no, well I suppose it is for some?”
“No! It’s not unlucky! Number thirteen is lucky, remember that, number thirteen is your lucky number too!”.
Then, we pull up to Cheshunt, she says goodbye and gets off the train.
I just sat there and thought, what the hell has just happened? What was that even about? Who was that woman and was she even real? It was just so extraordinary.
I told Craig when I got home and was met with the response “so you saw a nutter on the train, how is this different from any other day?” (he was right, in ten years of commuting I had seen a man shouting “God is death!” and hitting a baseball bat against the window, an albino elf like human being with translucent eyes staring at me when I awoke from a nap on the tube and a man in a tracksuit being chased by two men in suits with rubber gloves on, to name a few). So it was brushed off as nothing.
But the story doesn’t end there.
A couple of weeks later, myself, Craig and our friends went to a local charity event in Hoddesdon. It was a casino night where everyone gets dressed up and can gamble, all in the name of charity.
I had never been to one of these nights before, in fact, I had never been into a casino before, I didn’t have the first clue how to play Roulette or BlackJack.
But as the vino flowed, so did my confidence and after watching the Roulette table for a bit, I decided to give it a go.
So it’s simple really isn’t it, you buy some chips, you put your chip down on a number or colour, the table is spun and hopefully the little ball will land on your colour or number for you to win some chips back. Losing bets are swept away and with this game, every time you won, you also received a small bottle of beer.
I start off tentatively but appear to be on a winning streak. The small bottles of beer are stacking up one by one (much to Craig’s satisfaction). I’m finding that this is an incredibly enjoyable pastime (but also having moments of “oh my God am I a gambler in waiting?” – yes that’s those overdramatic thoughts again).
The night is drawing on and it feels like I’m at the table for ages. My friends are coming over and applauding my Roulette skills and Craig doesn’t seem to care but I feel he is silently impressed.
Before long, I look up to see only a few of us left at the table with chips. So I continue, collect some more beer bottles and then suddenly see that there is me, and one other woman at either end of the Roulette table.
She’s eyeing up my beer bottles and I can see she has an impressive stack herself. She’s also checking me out, I can tell. The woman is about 40 years my senior and I reckon she has had her fair share of charity casino nights under her belt, there is no way she is going to let this little twenty-something novice win the prize. And behold the prize! A giant stuffed adorable dog. I wanted that dog quite badly, but so did she.
So what to do? She had a couple of chips left. I had a handful. It was time to choose.
I decided to make a bold move. I needed to clear this woman out. Immediately at this point, the black haired woman from the train came into my mind’s eye. The number thirteen in bright lights all around me. Another one of my “moments of clarity” and suddenly I knew why that stranger was important.
I placed all my chips on Black, Thirteen.
“Bold move Tanya,” says Craig from behind me, the woman smirks and places all her chips on the table. It is do or die for us both.
The Croupier spins the wheel and we wait….and wait….until….
The little ball rolls and rolls and finally stops, on Black, Thirteen.
My opponent smiles at me through a death glare and my friends are cheering. I’m in a state of quiet shock that I’ve just won a roulette table on my first ever attempt.
The gentleman who handed me my prize asked me if I worked as a Croupier. I found this highly amusing and told him, no, this was my first go.
“What?!? I have to say in all my years I have never seen anybody work the table like that, congratulations!” (although his choice of words did conjure up images of me pole dancing in Browns, I was touched by his kind words!).
So what does this all mean? Was this just another highly strange, but highly real “coincidence”?
I mean, it’s not as if I was gambling in a Las Vegas casino and had the chance to win about 3 million quid, was it? I won a stuffed toy dog and about 15 bottles of out of date beer.
If this woman on the train was sent to give me this amazing message, that prompted me to put all my chips on Black Thirteen and win the table, it seems a little “far-fetched” doesn’t it? It’s not exactly life-changing.
I don’t think this woman was a spirit; she was a normal human being. But I do think that she loves to talk to people and that she loves telling her thirteen stories to people. So on that day, on my way home, she chose to tell me. But, I do also think she was meant too.
I believe my spirit team wanted to prove to me yet again that mysterious things can happen if we open ourselves up to it. That there is so much more at work that we can’t see.
Or maybe it was just purely a coincidence….but if so it will be one that I will never ever forget. I’m starting to stack up quite a few of them now!
Thanks again for reading and I’m looking forward to my next post already!
Please feel free to comment as I would love to hear what people make of this…
So fast forward three years after Rosemary’s death, to 2005. It’s a sunny May Sunday morning; I’m now moved out of the family home, having a lazy Sunday lie in, comfortable in my flat that I live in with my then boyfriend. Those were the days before I had a child waking me up at 6.30am….so I could wake up and then choose to go back to sleep…oh what bliss!
I remember being in a dozy state of sleep, the sun shining on my face, beautiful and relaxed…until I hear that voice again. The voice that sounds like me…but isn’t. She tells me to wake up, just like before. But this time she gives me some more information:
“Tanya, WAKE UP! September 15th….September 15th……REMEMBER September 15th”.
Just as before on the night that my nan died, I wake up with a start. There was no presence this time except an overwhelming feeling that the date of September 15th was extremely significant and that the person telling me that, was my nan, Rosemary.
I grabbed my diary and jotted down the experience. I was very certain that I must write this date down so that if something happens, people would believe me. I then had a think about what it could mean and came up with these scenarios:
1) I could get engaged (yeah – chance would be a fine thing!) but hey, he could ask me. (for the record I asked him on leap day 2008, but that’s another story entirely!).
2) I could win the lottery…..???
3) Job offer…..
So these are all good things, then I think perhaps it’s not such a good thing. In the summer of 2001 I had a very vivid dream that I was in a large city with my family. Bombs had exploded and the tall skyscrapers were falling on all the people. I was running through the streets, with dust and mayhem and terror everywhere. A few months later, I watched in horror the atrocities of 9/11 play out on my TV screen…remembering every detail of my dream a few months before.
Another terrorist attack? It could be a warning. Or…someone could die. It could be the date of someone’s death. I didn’t want to think about that too much so I closed the book and decided to not worry, only time would tell.
And time did tell. Because the following month, in June, my grandad (Rosemary’s husband) began to get sick. Grandad Frank had thyroid cancer about 10 years previous and was in remission and doing ok, no major health issues, or so we all thought.
I know everyone loves their grandad but I can’t tell you enough what a fantastic man he was. He was tall and strong, big hands, wide kind eyes, loved a hat, sang and danced and joked around continuously. He had many friends and was well respected by everyone who met him. My nan’s passing was a blow to him, but he had managed to move on with his life and get himself on holiday a couple of times and spent time with friends and family. He had turned 81 and the general consensus was that he would live until 100!
But, he started to get unwell. He lost the use of his legs; he just collapsed out walking one day. Something was wrong, very wrong. Over the summer he was cared for by family members however his condition was deteriorating and he ended up in hospital in the August of that year.
During this time, I kept thinking about the date I was given and it was dawning on me that this could be the date that he might die. I would think to myself “is nan telling me that this is the date she will meet her husband again?”.
I was in a state of worry because I was due to fly out to Japan about 2 weeks before September 15th and I would be there on this date. It’s a trip we had planned to visit Craig’s brother who was teaching English out there. I was concerned that if this date was in fact for grandad, then I would not be there, I would be the other side of the world.
In the August that grandad was admitted into the hospital, unfortunately, a scan had revealed that cancer had come back and had gone to his bones. It was devastating news, there was nothing they could do for him, it was a matter of keeping him comfortable.
Frank’s personality became a shadow of his former self. He had lost the twinkle in his eyes. He began to change physically to have the look of someone with cancer. I don’t have to describe that, those that have seen a loved one at the end of cancer know this look.
We tried to keep his spirits high, especially my mum who would make him special lunches to take into the hospital and I remember me and my sister rubbing his legs with talc to get the circulation going and I remember him laughing at that.
The most important thing he wanted more than anything was to get out of the hospital and go home and stay at my mum’s house so she could look after him. So she made it her absolute mission to do this before he died. This sounds easy – it’s not. You have to sort out forms, resources, hospital beds, transportation, medicine applications…it was incredibly stressful however her determination was infallible.
So, it was the day before I flew to Japan. Grandad was still in hospital as he hadn’t yet been “released”. By this stage, I was pretty sure that dream prediction was for him. So, I went to visit him after work to say goodbye, for what I knew and felt was the last time I would ever see him alive. Should I have even gone to Japan, I hear you cry? Yes, because he would not have had it any other way. Frank had travelled around the world in the Merchant Navy and he would not have had me miss that trip.
When I saw grandad in that hospital bed, I could clearly see that his health had declined considerably from three days previous. This is what I wanted to say to him:
“Grandad, you are dying. I’m not going to see you again after today. I’m so sorry that this illness is taking you and that you have so many more years you want to enjoy because you are full of life and I know how much you LOVE life. I don’t want you to be afraid, because all the people that you have ever known that have ever loved you, are going to be there when you pass over. They have known about this time well before we did and have been preparing it for you. Don’t ever be fearful of what happens when death comes, because it’s a place with no fear and all you earthly, physical pain will be gone. I want you to know that even though I won’t be there when you pass, that you will be in my heart and I thank you for being such a wonderful influence in my life, I love you so much”.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t speak because I was so shocked at his sunken face and protruding cheekbones, shocked at how his head looked too big on his skinny body. He didn’t speak either. His eyes said it all to me. So I kissed his cheek, said goodbye and left the room. I walked down the hospital corridor with tears streaming down my face shouting at myself from inside at my pathetic weak young stupid self for not telling him all those things that I wanted too.
After that, I went to my parent’s house and spoke to my dad (Frank’s son-in-law), without my mum there. My dad was concerned that mum would not get grandad home before he died.
“Listen to me, you will get grandad home. You will get him home for only two nights. Then he will die on September 15th”
“That’s almost two weeks away…how do you know the date, Tanya?”
“Just trust me dad, but don’t tell mum please”.
We flew to Japan and had a truly unforgettable experience. I tried to keep in contact with home as much as I could, but I’m not ashamed to say that I found my holiday a release. I got lost in the magic of Japan, the lights, sounds, smells, the vast difference of the culture compared to my own, the stunning gardens, lively festivals, the serenity of the parks….the funny and quirky people I met, the food and strangeness of it all.
We chatted, drank and ate until the early hours every night…I lost track of dates and times. I went to bed one night towards the end of the holiday, after another great night out. Russ’ apartment was tiny, and Japanese tiny is TINY. Myself and Craig were asleep on the floor (it wasn’t luxury accommodation, but at that age, I didn’t care, however, I’m pretty sure that was the start of my lower back problems!).
I fell asleep and was woken up by what felt like a tall man, standing at the end of my feet. I could make the outline of his shoulders. I was scared and did my usual, cover over the head and try to go back to sleep.
The next morning, when I woke I realised that Russ had his work suit hanging up over the window…so that must have been my “man” ghost! Phew for that. We had a coffee and started getting ready for the day ahead.
Russ had a landline phone in his apartment and it rang just as I was coming out of the bathroom.
“It’s your dad Tanya,” said Russ, handing the phone to me. I knew in my heart he would only be calling for one reason.
“Sorry Tanya, grandad died last night. We got him home for 2 nights, just like you said”.
I was shattered. I instantly wanted to be with my family.
After I had spoken to my mum, I put the phone down and the boys made sure I was ok.
“What’s the date? Bloody hell!! I was so close on the date! It’s September 16th today!” I said.
Craig looked at me then said, “We are 9 hours ahead of England Tanya…….your grandad died on September 15th, English time”.
In my shock at my granddads passing, I had forgotten about the time difference.
That day, we visited a temple. It was a very quiet and spiritual place.
As I was walking around the temple, I kept thinking about my grandad and prayed that he would give me a sign that he was ok. Not long after asking for the sign, I received it in a form of the biggest and breathtaking butterfly I had ever seen. It fluttered around me and followed me for ages as I walked along the paths of the temple. To this day, my grandad uses butterflies as his sign for me and I’ve had some amazing times when he has come to say hello.
Grandad also visited me one night when I got back home from Japan. I was lying in bed before I fell asleep and felt him stroking my arm. I often feel spirit stroking my face, very rarely on the arm, but this was clearly different energy and a week or so after that, I visited a medium who confirmed that he had been to see me and was stroking my arm (I didn’t tell her what had happened).
So, I guess what I learnt from the whole experience is this:
– When I “hear” that voice, I need to listen and record any messages it gives me. I can say that I have only ever heard it twice in my life, never heard it since that morning in May.
– Our spirit family/soul group are very aware of what is coming up for us in our Earth time.
– Always try and tell someone that is dying that you love them, no matter how hard and emotional you find it. Just tell them!
Why did she give me the date? I have wondered this many times. I feel that it was for two reasons. To let me know that they were waiting for Frank, they knew he was getting sick and that his time on Earth was drawing to a close.
I also feel like my spirit team wanted to validate yet again to me, that there is life after death and that it’s another experience for me to collect to try and prove to others that this very much is the case.
Thanks for reading!
In 2002 my dear nan died at the age of 78. I was 21 years old and I had no idea that her death would leave such an impact on me, in more ways than I could imagine. Before I tell the story, I would like to point out that my nan apparently had mediumistic gifts, however, this was something that was never talked about. Sadly, I only found this out after her death. Nan’s name was Rosemary.
It’s hard to know exactly how to feel when you have spent the last few days, watching someone you love slip away from a very long and drawn-out process, putting yourself in their shoes (I thought a lot at that time about what her reality was like, was she lucid? Did she know exactly what was going on?), and in the shoes of those very closest to her, her children and her husband. Rosemary’s lungs were filling up with fluid and giving her a death that the anti-smoking campaigners love to scare you about. Truth is, if you smoke twenty a day, for most of your adult life and are unlucky, chances are, you probably might go that way…or you might not. Unfortunately for Rosemary, it wasn’t a quick heart attack. It was emphysema. She was one of the strongest women I knew and was having a full on Jedi style battle with the grim reaper every day, for weeks on end, she was not giving up without a fight.
On the day of her death, my sister and I had left my mum (her daughter) and my dad and my granddad at the hospital whilst we came home around 9ish to get some sleep. We were both exhausted and just wanted to go to bed, but also in that state of limbo, knowing that our Nan’s time on this earth plane was getting shorter.
We both went upstairs around eleven, me in my room and my sister in her bedroom that was next door to mine. Those were the days when I lived at home with my parents, where all of my most precious possessions were cooped up with me in my little room.
I closed my eyes and expected sleep to take forever, it didn’t, and I was gone instantly. It felt like I had been asleep for hours, only to be rudely awoken, by what I can only describe as the sound of my own voice calling my name.
Yes, I heard my own voice call me, externally, in my room: “Tanya, wake up!”. Just like that. Let me stress, I was not dreaming. This was very very different from a dream. The clarity of it, to this day, was breathtaking. The voice was direct, my eyes suddenly opened and were wide and alert, not even drowsy or tired, literally, I was called and I sprung into action. So I was awake, after hearing that voice, and then I started to feel. Bear with me on this, as I now need to try and put into words one of the most remarkable experiences of my entire life. I had an instantaneous “knowing” that Rosemary had just passed over on to the other side….and she was in my sister’s bedroom. I knew Karley was fast asleep and had no idea that my Nan was with her, watching her as she slept, a quick goodbye to her lovely granddaughter. I felt Nan’s energy move, along the hallway and into my room. At this point, to tell you that I was scared is an understatement. As profound and amazing this experience was, I have to admit that I was petrified as the feeling of knowing that my Nan was there, in ghost form or whatever you would like to call it, well, it freaked me out like nothing has ever done. So I did what all aspiring mediums would do, I put the covers over my head and closed my eyes. She was there, in my room, I know that if I had looked I would have seen her as clear as an alive human being walking around. I cannot tell you how disappointed I am now at myself for not looking. But you need to understand that I was taking in this experience and had a lot of emotion going on all at the same time.
I felt my Nan’s love and her goodbye. No words were needed. The feeling I had told me enough. It was like a telepathic communication, I knew with a certainty that I’ve never been able to obtain since, that she was there to tell me she had died. Then she gave me the most beautiful present. She gave me a little glimpse into her new world. As she said goodbye I felt the feeling from the spirit world, and it was the most powerful yet peaceful feeling of love blended with light and knowing, and safety, where no fear could ever exist. The kind of warmth and brightness that a moth will flutter too, the kind of place that had she of asked “Tanya would you like to come too?” I would have quite happily gone and left all of my earthly connections behind. The only feeling that compared to that was the one I got once she had left as it was just as strong but the polar opposite of what I had just experienced. Darkness, cold, my room, sharp and clear reality. Matter, material matter, earth matter, human matter. The difference between these two feelings was enormous. Light and dark, cold and warmth, ying and yang, however, you want to term it – what she gave me was an insight into the spirit world and I am so grateful and thankful for that, as she has certainly eliminated any fears I ever had about dying.
Once I felt her energy leave, I pulled the covers from my head and quickly scrambled for the bedside light. I had to know the exact time; I had to know when she passed. I switched on the light, shoved my glasses on and squinted at the clock. 1.48am. Then I looked at my phone. “Dad’s going to call me” just popped into my head. Before I knew it, I was shouting out to my sister. “Karley wake up!”.
I heard her muffle my name “what’s wrong?”.
“Nan has died. Dad is just about to call us now and tell us.”
“What? How do you know?”
“She was just here! He is just about to call me….” I was cut off by the phone ringing.
“I’m sorry Tanya, she’s gone” came my dad’s voice.
“I know dad! What time? What time did she pass?”
“About 1.45ish,” he said.
The next morning, when I saw my mum, I could not believe how this whole agonising process had physically changed her. My poor mum had aged about ten years; the grief had wrapped its arms around her and consumed her. I told her about my experience, and then she told me about hers. That’s what’s amazing about spirits and the intelligence they have, as when my Nan was visiting me, and my “inner voice or spirit guide” was calling my name, so was my mums. She was the only one at my Nans bedside and had then fallen asleep. As Nan passed away, my mum was also alerted to awaken, just as I had been. She also felt the warmth, the love and light, she described the same breathtaking feelings. What Nan, the “spirit” Nan had done was pretty incredible. She was able to connect her spirit to my spirit, to my mum’s spirit so that at her exact time of death, both mum and I were awoken and experiencing the same thing but in our own individual environments. We both agree that we were so lucky to have felt what we did and to now have a knowing that the spirit world really is a place of such beauty and above all, such love.
This was really the start of my journey. I feel blessed and privileged that at a young age, I found out that when you die, it is not the end. I know there are people reading this that will try hard to piece together the logical and scientific explanations of what I experienced. That is perfectly fine because in this life, you walk your own path and you need to be guided and trust your own experience, you don’t have to believe what people tell you. I’m at peace with that because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that when we die, our soul leaves our body as energy and joins a different place, one that our human minds find incredibly difficult to access. But….its there.
Rosemary did visit me again, and that’s the second part of my story which I will post soon!
I’ve loved writing about this, because it has taken me back to one of the most special times in my life and I’m so grateful that nan decided to share it with me, however, I don’t think I could ever do it justice, as it really was too beautiful to put into words.
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton