Many times in my life I have been asked “do you journal
these things?” my answer was always “eh, no…” well that is until now. But let
me rewind and fill you in as to why people ask me that question.
To the best of my memory, it all started in January of
1996. That made me all of 10 and a half years old, to be exact. All of my family was in from out of town;
unfortunately they weren’t visiting for a happy reunion, but rather the passing
of my Grandpa Kenny. Now, I know
your not supposed to have favorites when it comes to family… so I
won’t say he was my favorite grandpa. My fathers father was a very sweet and
generous man as well. However, I
will say that I had a closer “connection” with my Grandpa Kenny (my mothers
father). Either way, I share fond memories of both grandparents. I digress… back to the story.
We were busy with your typical funeral activities; food, crying, the wake/visitation, crying, food, the burial, crying, and more food. This particular experience took place after the visitation.
It was now evening and some of my uncles were at my house. My cousin Shealee and I were in our pajamas, in my bedroom, sitting on the bed. I can't say exactly what we were discussing, but I’m sure it was about my grandpa in some context. I CAN tell you how we were sitting, what positions we were on the bed, and the arrangement of my bedroom furniture. (This snapshot memory of my surroundings will be a signature sign for similar future events… of course I didn’t know that yet).
As we sat there talking, I suddenly stopped. I was caught off guard by a sudden punch to the face of distinct aroma. I said, “Do you smell that?”… Shealee paused, “No, smell what?” I repeated, “You don’t smell anything?” The smell was so potent and clear to me. She looked at me with a confused curiosity. We continued to stared at each other and I said “I think I smell grandpa.” (I must add for my own reminder and general clarification, my grandpa didn’t have a signature scent, no particular cologne or cigarette smoke, nothing of the sort. But, being the first hard death I encountered in my life, I remember the smell of him when I saw him in the casket. A bit morbid, I know. I am sure if you have been to a wake/visitation you know the smell I am referencing. That is the smell that hit me.) A short pause joined with a blank stare at each other and then 3…2…1… BANG! Like horses at the racetrack we took off running out of the room. We ran to my mom in terror. We told her what happened and she said calmly, “well maybe he was just coming to tell you hello and let you know he’s still with you”. We slowly made our way back to my bedroom. Warily, we entered the room, apologized for running out so abruptly and invited him to come back. The smell never did come back, however, I don’t think he ever really left. Honestly, I imagine him up in heaven laughing at us. It makes me smile when I think about it.
We were busy with your typical funeral activities; food, crying, the wake/visitation, crying, food, the burial, crying, and more food. This particular experience took place after the visitation.
It was now evening and some of my uncles were at my house. My cousin Shealee and I were in our pajamas, in my bedroom, sitting on the bed. I can't say exactly what we were discussing, but I’m sure it was about my grandpa in some context. I CAN tell you how we were sitting, what positions we were on the bed, and the arrangement of my bedroom furniture. (This snapshot memory of my surroundings will be a signature sign for similar future events… of course I didn’t know that yet).
As we sat there talking, I suddenly stopped. I was caught off guard by a sudden punch to the face of distinct aroma. I said, “Do you smell that?”… Shealee paused, “No, smell what?” I repeated, “You don’t smell anything?” The smell was so potent and clear to me. She looked at me with a confused curiosity. We continued to stared at each other and I said “I think I smell grandpa.” (I must add for my own reminder and general clarification, my grandpa didn’t have a signature scent, no particular cologne or cigarette smoke, nothing of the sort. But, being the first hard death I encountered in my life, I remember the smell of him when I saw him in the casket. A bit morbid, I know. I am sure if you have been to a wake/visitation you know the smell I am referencing. That is the smell that hit me.) A short pause joined with a blank stare at each other and then 3…2…1… BANG! Like horses at the racetrack we took off running out of the room. We ran to my mom in terror. We told her what happened and she said calmly, “well maybe he was just coming to tell you hello and let you know he’s still with you”. We slowly made our way back to my bedroom. Warily, we entered the room, apologized for running out so abruptly and invited him to come back. The smell never did come back, however, I don’t think he ever really left. Honestly, I imagine him up in heaven laughing at us. It makes me smile when I think about it.
Now, for all the nay sayers and skeptics. I assure you I myself am a HUGE skeptic
and I’M the one experiencing these things! As much as our logical and analytical
minds crave explanation and proof, I can’t provide that; I wish I could. I can say I don’t automatically make
every sudden or odd occurrence an “intuitive” experience. I always search for
logical explanation first.
Finally, I am not one to deceive, I don’t even like pulling pranks on
people. So that's not my agenda either. I am an extremely honest person, almost to a fault.
So here’s my analogy on this one. Could I have just smelt
him/that scent off our clothes from being at the funeral home? No, we were already changed into clean
pajamas and had been home for quite some time. Was there a breeze in my room? Did anyone in funeral home clothes walk by? No,
neither. We were sitting still on
the bed, no breeze and no one walked through the room or down the adjoining
hall. Why the visitation scent?
Seems a little unpleasant, right? Well, I get the “feeling” that since my
grandpa didn’t have a signature scent, smelling something else
could have been confusing and more easily overlooked, whereas the scent from
the visitation would be distinct.
This visit wouldn’t be the last from my sweet
grandpa. Here are a couple more examples.
The next year in August (1997) my cousin Shanning was born. When she was a few years old (toddler
age, can’t say exactly) her family was going through old pictures and ran
across a picture of my Grandpa Kenny.
My uncle explained to his daughter that this was her grandpa but that he
lived in heaven now. She replied
with something along the lines of,
“I met him, he held me when I was in mommy’s tummy”. Talk about goosebumps! My grandpa has
also debuted multiple times in my dreams as well as some other spirits… but we
will get to those stories later.
So that’s where this all began. I am almost 29 now and have years of stories with
premonitions, hearing, seeing, sensing events and spirits, healings, out of body
experiences and astral projections. I hid these things for a long time and
there were times when some of these things scared me. I now embrace these events and am trying to learn how to
control them better. I'm like a sponge I'm trying to learn as much about this as I can. I feel like
this my purpose in life. I want to
share it with people and help them if I can. I have learned a lot but I still have so much more to learn. I am no Theresa Caputo, Rebecca Rosen,
or James Van Praagh and I don’t claim to be, at least not yet ;) I have high
expectations for this gift and myself.
All I can say for sure is this is my truth, my journey,
and its time to journal it.
(For more information about me, see the "About Me" tab)
No comments:
Post a Comment