but I’m still here.
Your beautiful soul has such a lot to give
… and I’m still here.
Lots more dancing, singing and fun,
Parties to attend and things to be done
… and remember … I’m still here.
Jacky Newcomb
Mystical Mum
How did I get here? What was it about? Was it her smile? Was it the way she crossed her legs, the turn of her ankle, the poignant vulnerability of her slender wrists?
Martin Sage and Sybil Adelman, Northern Exposure: The Bumpy Road to Love, 1991
‘I’ve done a lot of research. It’s fascinating, and I’m really hooked. Even though people in your family die … they’re not dead. I mean they are, but they’re not.’ I gushed to my dad over coffee one day. He smiled politely.
‘I’ve discovered that spirits have the ability to manipulate energy, especially electrical and clockwork items,’ I babbled on. ‘It’s how they let us know they are still alive!’ I added breathlessly.
I think Mum had gone shopping with my sister and Dad always loved a good gossip so I’d driven round the corner to visit him. It really was ‘just’ around the corner. I was lucky that my parents lived a five-minute walk away but I usually drove as I always seemed too busy to stop and enjoy the short walk, even though I visited them several times a week.
A busy mum with two teenage daughters of my own, I always seemed to be rushing from one project to the next. Books for review were stacked up on my desk and a whole carrier bag full of readers’ letters from my magazine column, all with questions about readers’ psychic and paranormal experiences, were waiting for personal replies. I was halfway through my third book on angel and afterlife communication experiences, and wary of the looming deadlines, but the research was really exhilarating. I was keen to chat about it to anyone who might listen … or not … and dads always listen, don’t they!
I rushed on excitedly about my latest research.
‘After our loved ones pass over to heaven, they come back and let you know that they are okay, that they are still alive in some way. I have hundreds of stories now from all over the world, Dad. They come in their spirit bodies and visit people in dreams, and make the lights flicker and things. I really believe that we don’t die … at least not in the way that we think!’
Dad looked on kindly. Did he think I was crazy? Bless him, he never said, and he just smiled fondly in the way that dads do.
I’d been sharing a weird story I’d read about a music box. Paranormal, I guess you would call it. A woman had inherited all of her mother’s jewellery after she’d died, but couldn’t find her mother’s precious pearl necklace. Sitting in her mother’s home after the funeral, the woman wondered where the necklace might have gone. As she was thinking about the problem, a family music box started playing inside a locked cupboard. It was a musical jewellery box and it had sat in the cupboard, without being wound up, for some time.
The woman opened the cupboard and lifted out the box which was playing inside, and when she opened it up she found the missing pearls inside. The music box had given the clue to where they were hiding. It was a great story but was it just a coincidence? I just loved it.
I looked at my watch and sighed. Wary of the mountain of writing I needed to complete by the end of the day, I picked up my coat and leant over to kiss Dad goodbye, thinking of how much he looked like his deceased brother, Eric. Eric was a cherished and much missed family member.
‘When I leave, Uncle Eric will do something to let you know he’s been here nosing in on our conversation again today,’ I joked. ‘You know he will want to show us this is all true.’
As the words left my lips, we heard the smoke alarm give a single bleep and we both burst out laughing. Good timing! Had my late Uncle Eric communicated his visit from the afterlife? I know that he did.
Later on that day, Dad told me he’d checked the smoke alarm just in case, and the battery was fine. Was this a coincidence, or perhaps another piece in the afterlife communication puzzle?
The lights often flickered at my parents’ house, and anywhere the family gathered for special events together. If we mentioned Uncle Eric’s name the lights would always begin to flash, almost to indicate that he had joined in the family fun. We knew he was with us.
Was it more amazing coincidences or was my uncle really communicating with us from beyond the grave? We were certainly convinced, and each time a light went on and off we all laughed and said, ‘Hello Eric.’ It wasn’t a frightening thing, just a bit of family fun and I guess a great comfort. We never like to think that our loved ones really leave us when they die, and I’m totally convinced they don’t.
We felt him around us a lot. I remember another time I was sitting in my living room late one night. It was 1 am and I was snuggled down on the sofa in our dimly lit living room with my head in my hands. I was feeling very distressed about a problem at the small ‘new age’ store where I worked part time when I suddenly felt the familiar presence in the room with me. I knew it was Uncle Eric. How? I just sort of felt it – you know, in the same way that you ‘feel’ when someone is looking at you behind your back. Those eyes piercing into your back … you just know.
‘Is that you Eric?’ I asked out loud. The lights flickered on cue in the living room and I laughed. He had announced his arrival in the usual way.
‘Flash the lights once for yes, and twice for no,’ I joked. The lights flicked once more. I swear we had a five-minute conversation using the yes/no system before I felt his energy pull away! I can’t prove it to you, no one was physically there – but I knew it was him! He’d cheered me up a lot! I knew then it was time for bed. I needed to ‘sleep on it’, as they say.
The next day I decided that the problem with my shop job was that I needed to not be there. I decided to leave. I needed to concentrate on my writing. Writing was what I wanted to do for a living and I was just getting more and more frustrated spending my day doing something I didn’t want to do. The following day I handed in my notice. The shop owner seemed very upset with me but I meant nothing malicious by it, it was a personal decision only. I had to follow my own dreams, I needed to be elsewhere.
The next few days were difficult at work. There was a serious tension in the air but I was sad to leave the staff who had become very good friends. I’d been at the shop for a few months – I actually began working for the owner before the shop even opened. Initially, I’d been looking for a part-time job so that I could still meet people whilst I wrote from home. I didn’t want to be isolated totally, and the job in an alternative/new age store seemed the perfect choice.
As the weeks went by I’d ended up doing more and more hours in the shop. I needed to be home to meet the girls after school but due to lack of staff I found myself having to
