Something tells me you are here with me :) PART 3

When I Look to The Sky - Train


Well, that was some interesting read eh?

I'm not going to try and convince you that you should believe. I'm just saying it happened to me and I believe. The thing is, I don't think a kid can make that kind of stuff up. It was a different time. Television programming, media, books and anything else that children were exposed was restricted compared to today. Although I kept diaries most of my life none of the experiences I shared with you were ever recorded. They were forgotten/repressed until a trigger was experienced that caused the memory to flood back in detail that astounds even me. I might be off of the ages a bit but being as my childhood memories are all divided between life with Mom and all my siblings and after my Mom and sisters died (12 years old +) We are at the very least talking about a prepubescent child.

Of course now, I am very open to the possibility and reality that ghosts and spirits are among us. I have lived enough, read enough and learned enough that I have made up my own mind. I have had other experiences in my adult years that keep my faith alive but never anything as vivid or "real" as what I have already shared. I also think that youngsters are much more open to have such experiences because their minds have not been tainted by the naysayers and the freedom associated with being a child allows us to be open and accept what we hear and feel without question. And yes, I will admit that part of my belief today stems from the fact that I experienced so much personal loss as a young person that I had to believe in something in order to accept without going completely off the deep end or wallowing in self-pity.

Today, I take great comfort in knowing that I am not alone, that I have a small army of guardian angels protecting me and my children. I have not been convinced on the reality of spirits being photographed as ghostly orbs in photographs but I am open to the possibility. I simply offer up this photographs for you to ponder. Personally I think it unusual that of all the pictures taken that night, only this one has "orbs" and interestingly there are 3 of them on each of us....I'm just saying...

Something tells me you are here with me :) PART 2

When I Look to the Sky - Train


2) THE TIME I WAS HIT BY A CAR AND DIED
Like it happened yesterday, I remember setting off to school alone. Alone, because I had been dawdling and my siblings left without me so they wouldn't be late. But I was already going to be late so I meandered as soon as I was out of the line of vision of my mother. In the first block I had to pass the house with the Doberman Pincer that always barked fiercely at people walking by carefully and slowly so he wouldn't get loose and attack me. That dog always terrified me. Then there was the hedge with the ladybugs that I loved to see but feared them jumping from the leaf and onto me. I was probably about 8 years old and lost in my own little world. Having overcome those terrifying hurdles, my mind began to wander and I started thinking about God and how we came to be and whether we were alone in the wonderous vastness of the universe. And then suddenly I am not looking up to the sky any longer...instead I watch - from a vantage point some 5 feet above my head - I watch as I step off the curb and begin to cross Jewell Street. I was in awe...this was so cool. I watched until I was 3/4 of the way across the street and then I was back. The memory ends there. I probably got in trouble for being late for school...but I blocked that out...lol!
It was many years later before I learned or heard about "the white light" theory or of people who have "died" and experienced the same thing I did as a child. I didn't know it at the time...but when I initially heard of the phenomenon I immediately recalled the experience and decided I probably was supposed to die then - perhaps being hit by a car but "someone" changed their mind and let me live. Thank you whoever you are :)

Something tells me you are here with me :) PART 1

When I Look To the Sky - Train


This is an absolutely amazing song and I chose this video specifically instead of the official version simply because when I hear it and the words I don't think of a love song but I relate it to my life. You may not get the same sense from the song buy I find that music speaks to me. One line of phrase grabs me and pulls me in. Enjoy the song however it speaks to you...

Listening to this song today got me to thinking about some memories that I may or may not have shared with you. It's not something that I am ashamed of but some people are sceptics and think it's not possible to have occurred that the experiences have come from external sources. You can believe or not...your choice...I'm just telling it how it happened to me :)

1) DAD SPEAKS TO ME
Yeah, already sounds crazy eh? As you may be aware, my dad died when I was 2 years old. I remember nothing about him. Mom never spoke of him (it has been told to me that it was too painful for her to do so), and we (me and my 3 other siblings) were too young to ask any questions. We knew he was dead, we visited his final resting place often, especially in the warmer months when Mom planted marigolds at the base of the masouleum that loomed large against the passing traffic on Oliver Road in Thunder Bay.
Anyways, I was about 7 years old I had cut my foot and gotten stitches and I was not in a good mood. I was up in my bedroom alone, sitting on the end of my bed and rifling through my clothes in the dresser drawer. I was feeling very sorry for myself. I don't know if it was because I had to get stitches or that it was sore or maybe the injury put a halt to other plans, but as I sat there I heard my name being called. "Giselle!" I hollered out in response "What?", and I got no other answer. Then it happened again "Giselle!" Not getting an answer to my response, I hobbled down the short hallway and made my way to the basement stairs. I followed the laughter and chatter that I heard coming from there. I stood at the top of the stairs and asked who was calling and what did they want. "No-one...go away" If I could have stomped away in anger I would have! Well, it turns out that they were down there planning a surprise party for me to help me feel better. And as they sang "For She's a Jolly Good Fella" I felt the love and guilt for my anger at their earlier rebuff.
Flash forward 10 years or so. I am at the house of my Aunt and Uncle in Thunder Bay. It is Saturday or Sunday morning. I have dropped in for a visit as I was passing by. For many years we (my brother and I) were not allowed or encouraged to visit with Aunt Lillian and Uncle Camillo or spend time with our cousins. Long story short - Granny thought they were a bad influence because they were from my Dad's side of the family and he was an alcoholic. But they were family so when I became mobile and mature enough to realize what I was missing - I hoped on my bike and popped in on them. Anyways, on this particular morning only Uncle Camillo was home. I don't remember how it came to be that I was sitting at the kitchen table and watched him come into the kitchen having just woken up. He was shaking like a leaf and I thought maybe he was ill. He puttered in the kitchen for a bit and made some small talk. He could barely hold a glass in his hand until he reached under the kitchen sink for his bottle. It seemed that with his first sips, his shaking disappeared and he got bright-eyed and alert. And then he was asking me if I wanted anything and he called me "Giselle". And I asked him, why. He was the only person who ever called me that...to all other family I was Gigi. And he sat down and told me that it was my father that wanted me named Giselle and when everyone else started calling me Gigi, he never did. He loved the name Giselle for me. But after he died, my mother found that hearing the name was painful for her and for official documentation my name was changed to Elizabeth.
Listening to my uncle tell me this story, I instantly went back in my mind to that moment so many years ago that I heard someone call me Giselle and decided that it was my father that had been calling me.
The thing is, I never dwelt on the memory in fact if you had asked about an early childhood memory it sure wouldn't have come up. It was an obsession, it was barely an afterthought. But clearly it was stored away in my memory because it came flooding back in great detail like it just happened.