Bridging the Divided

Visitations

Death is not final. Death of the body is final. Whether we believe spirits only live on Earth once or live many lifetimes, spirits are pure energy and cannot be destroyed.

Where do spirits go when they leave the body? Is there a Heaven and a Hell? Do we co-exist with spirits? No one knows for certain, and that is all we know for certain. However, I believe departed spirits can interact with those of us still occupying earthly bodies. If we are open to the visitation, that is.

Mediumship, the ability to communicate with the spirit world, has long been an interest of mine. Before I was old enough to understand, the spirit world made itself known to me. I am aware of the presence of spirits. Spirits interact with us, and how they choose to do so varies.

Visitations from spirits are common, but many won’t talk about their experiences with spirits who have crossed over. When we do, we find out others are interested, are believers, and have had their own experiences.

My mom believed the spirit of the woman who had lived in the house before we did still inhabited the house. Mom would tell me she sensed and sometimes saw the woman she described as a sweet older lady that she had known as a child. No more than a cloud-like apparition without form or feature, this woman showed herself to my mom on several occasions. One night while I slept, the electric blanket on my bed caught fire. My mom is convinced to this day the woman woke me before I was injured or worse. I remember waking suddenly, the flames dangerously close to my face and hair. 

On the day of my former mother-in-law’s funeral, I saw her sitting on the church pew we had in our living room. Her back was to me, and she was wearing a favorite outfit of hers. She and I had been best friends and though her visitation was brief, I was comforted. 

Our beloved Harley, hit by a car due to the negligence of a groomer, visited in her unique way. She had always curled up on my robe while I readied myself for work every morning. On the morning of her visitation, three days after her passing, I sat down on the bed next to my robe. As I leaned over to pick up a shoe, I placed my hand in the middle of the robe to steady myself. The spot was warm, and the fabric indented as if she was curled on that very spot. I called my husband and asked him to feel the area. He, too, felt the warmth. At the same time, we said, “it’s Harley”. We were both comforted. Since that time, Harley and two of our other fur babies who have crossed the Rainbow Bridge, visit in the form of cardinals, butterflies, and dragonflies. Each time, we smile and thank them for stopping by to say hello.

Recently, my husband’s mom passed into eternity. Minutes before he called to tell me she had passed, I caught a glimpse of a white, filmy form out of the corner of my eye. At that moment, I knew it was Patsy. When my husband called, my response was, “I know, she stopped by.” Her love for her son in life was fierce, and she has made herself known several times since. 

Four days after her passing, we returned from picking up his suit for the funeral when my husband’s phone rang – once. He looked at it and saw the display that said, Mom. He remarked that his dad must have tried to call using his mom’s phone. The next day, my husband asked his dad if he had tried to call. His dad said he hadn’t. He didn’t know the code to get into the phone. The wake and funeral took place, friends and family were greeted, and the phone call waited until later.

My husband’s son was able to obtain the code to his grandmother’s phone from her sister. He opened the call and found it was a three-second call placed on the Sunday my husband had received it. Below in the note section of the call were the words, I love you. A call and a message that came four days after her passing. We kept the screenshots.

Additional visitations took place. We had received a wind chime from my boss in memory of my husband’s mom. It hangs on our screened-in porch. Naturally, when the wind blows it chimes. A few times since her passing there has been no wind, not even a wisp. On those days, the chimes will ring loudly and clearly as if a strong wind rang the chimes. My husband will remark, “Mom is talking”, and we smile. 

Most evenings after the sun sets and the evening is still, my husband will sit on the porch enjoying the season transition from summer to fall and waiting for the chimes to ring. More often than not, they do. 

The essence of who we are, the spirit does not die, only the body. From the elements it was made and to the elements, it will return. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The spirit, however, moves into a different dimension, and from that dimension, spirits will make their presence known….

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