Seeing What Is to Come

This makes me sound like the ghost from A Christmas Carol.  Sometimes it is like that, sometimes it isn’t.  The first time I really saw what was coming that I really remember was when I was 13.  To tell you that story, I have to tell you this one…

            In 1977, my grandfather had to have a triple heart bypass.  The doctors told him he would live for about another ten years.  Throughout the years, he continued to eat Grandma’s cooking and smoking Camel cigarettes.  Needless to say, this did not do well for his heart.  (Of course if I had to live with my grandmother, I would be smoking something harsher than Camels). 

            Grandma and Grandpa came out to the ranch that I mostly grew up on in August 1987.  I was standing at the sink, looking out the window, washing dishes when they pulled up.  That is the only thing I really remember about that visit except that Grandpa hugged me and told me that he loved me and would always love me.  That was not like my grandfather, who usually began and ended phone conversations with a grunt.

            On Labor Day, Grandma and Grandpa were out camping and Grandpa had at least two heart attacks.  Grandma did not know how to drive a stick shift, so they were stuck there.  When they got back, Grandpa went to the doctor, and did what he was supposed to do.  He stopped smoking cigarettes and took up watercolors to avoid extraneous activities. 

            December 11, 1987 I had a dream.  I dreamt that I was on the porch with my grandpa.  He told me that he had to go.  I cried and told him he couldn’t leave yet.  He said he had to go, that he loved me, and he would always be with me.  The phone ringing woke me it.  It was midnight, and my grandfather had just died.

            Grandpa’s words have been true.  I have seen him and felt him several times, some of which will be revealed in future stories. 

            That dream was the first time I dreamed or saw what was happening somewhere else or with other people either in the present or short term future, but it certainly has not been the last.  Many people can attest to that, and I will write more stories later about that another time.  For now, simply remember that love lasts forever and through many different physical and non physical plains.  Love NEVER dies.

The Man with the Knife

My children also inherited the ability to see and hear spirits.  They never really thought anything about it…the spirits were just always there.  Unfortunately, like people, spirits are not always good.

            When my husband was in second grade, a girl who sat next to him in his class was murdered, as was her mother and brother.  The case remains unsolved today.  The little girl and her mother were beaten and raped.  The mother was stabbed to death, the little girl was strangled.  Her brother was beaten to death.  The bodies were discovered by an ex-husband who wanted to bring the mother flowers.  It was Valentine’s Day. 

            Every time I meditated for a long time, I could hear the little girl’s voice.  She said, “My mommy did it” over and over and over again.

            We were visiting my husband’s mom in Denver, and we were talking about the murder.  We discussed the fact that after the murder, the woman’s ex-husband had never been seen again.  My mother-in-law and I speculated quite a bit about what could have happened and why the little girl kept saying her mom did it.

            About that time, my son, who had been asleep upstairs, walked into the kitchen where we were.  He said, “There is a man with a beard and a butcher knife in my room.  He said you guys had better shut the %^&$ up.” 

The Beginning

Looking back, it was the first time that anything supernatural or paranormal had really happened to me that stood out.  I had thought I had seen things, but then what young girls don’t.  The date was October 30, 1983.  I had waked up at 3:30 in the morning with a headache so bad, I was screaming. 

I had not been feeling well since the middle of September.  At first, I just felt like my knees were giving out on me when I tried to walk or run.  My parents just thought I was trying to get out of PE class, even though I had always been athletic.  I seemed to have the flu a lot, with a fever.  However, it was the coldest winter I had experienced in Colorado Springs.  Mom called the hospital a couple of times, but they had told her not to worry about it, and just put me in a lukewarm bath.  I had a lot of bruises, but I had always been clutzy.  I had been known to skin the same knee three or four times a week.  My parents did not really notice that I was paler than usual, because they are darker complected and I have always been pale. 

Toward the middle of October, I began to feel as though I had knots on my head.  I kept asking Mom and Dad to feel my head because I thought I had knots on my head, but there were none.  Then, the headaches started.  I have migraines now, and they are nothing like the way my head hurt then.  Some where in the middle of all of this, my dad said “It is leukemia.”  Although Mom and I had read a book called “A Thousand Cranes” a year before, we still didn’t understand what leukemia was.  Mom asked Dad, “What is leukemia?”  But he didn’t know.  Then, when I woke up screaming the day before Halloween, Dad said that he had had enough.  They took me to St. Francis Hospital in Colorado Springs.  Those were the days when they actually had emergency ROOMS, not emergency partitions.  I remember laying on the table that was in the middle of the room.  The nurses took my blood, and the doctor was in and out of the room looking at me and talking to my parents.  The entire time, I was walking around the room, looking at myself laying on the table.  I remember standing behind my mother while she made phone calls, asking about the medical history in our family, although I was still laying on the table.  And I was watching from the corner of the room when the doctor came in and said that he was 99.9 percent sure that I had leukemia, but they couldn’t do anything for me there.  However, there was a pediatrician oncologist at Penrose Hospital.    

I sat in my father’s lap while they were registering me.  However, I distinctly remember sitting on the floor with my back against the partition.  My head and stomach hurt so bad, I couldn’t stand it.  If I could have been thinking anything through the pain, I would have thought that I was dying.  I would have been right.

At first, they put me in a room with eight beds.  Mom and Dad’s friends, Ilene and Harvey came, as well as Ilene’s mom, Fran.  They were going to run down to the cafeteria for food, because it was late in the afternoon and they had not had anything to eat or drink since 3:30 that morning.  Before they left, Fran put a rosary in one hand and a statue of the Baby Jesus in my other hand.  While they were gone, I remember walking around the room.  I turned on all of the television sets, because I had never seen remote control before.  My body never moved off the bed.  I watched me lay on the bed as the nurse came in.  She asked if I was hungry. I moved my head once, to signal “no.”  She asked if I wanted some ice-cream.  Same movement. 

Mom and Dad had not been gone for more than five minutes, although it seemed like all the time in the world had passed.  Soon after they returned, I was rushed into the intensive care unit, and was hooked up to a heart monitor, an I.V. and a few other machines.  Then, they started my first blood transfusion.  That transfusion hurt almost as bad as the headaches.  My mother kept walking back and forth from the bed to the sink so she could put hot rags on my arm to try to make it hurt less.  All these years, I thought that transfusion hurt so bad, a lot more than the other blood and platelet transfusions I had, because my soul was lost between worlds. 

Twenty years later, I learned it was because I had no blood in my body, and my blood vessels had tightly constricted to get what little blood I had circulating.  After a bone marrow the next day, I was officially diagnosed.  I have Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia.  The night before, I had so little blood in my body, that my heart would have given out if I had gone much longer without a blood transfusion, because it was working so hard to push what little blood I had through my body. 

That was the last time my soul ever left my body without me meditating and going places on purpose.  It is also when I started seeing Shadows from the Past as clearly as I see physical beings.