Yes, I am a believer. Perhaps because I have the heart of a child, I can openly see and feel. All it takes is an encounter with a ghost or a spirit, and one cannot deny their existence. I have had more than one!
When fellow blogger Don Ostertag at donostertag.wordpress.com recently commented on the ghost at the Guthrie Theater, I replied that those of us who have seen ghosts are believers.
“You’ve seen a ghost, or been in the presence of a ghost?”
“Yes. A few times.”
“Really? Please tell the story.”
“It happened like this.”
My first encounter was as a child. I woke up in the middle of the night, looked out my bedroom window, and watched an angel or ghost fly across the sky. I can recall this as vividly as the day it happened. She wore a white dress, and looked back at me, smiling. I was mesmerized and not afraid at all. My parents, siblings, and friends thought It must have been a dream or just a cloud. Nope. She was real.
My second encounter was at summer camp. I loved summer camp! As a child I spent a month every summer in rural Salt Rock, West Virginia at Camp Dekanawida. Younger children lived in tents, older children lived in cabins. My memories and experiences are fond ones. One evening on my walk back to my cabin, there was my father standing in the middle of the road. He had died in a terrible car crash years ago when I was five-years-old, and I had never seen him since then. I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there looking at him, and he just stood there looking at me. Then he was gone. I wasn’t afraid. I was glad to see him once again.
My third encounter included other family members. We were in the car headed to the Norfolk, Virginia zoo. Our new baby granddaughter was in her carseat in the back, next to the window. I was beside her, and Hubby was beside me. Our son was driving and our daughter-in-law was in the passenger seat. Granddaughter had been very quiet and happy the entire car ride. We came to a traffic light stop, which was beside a cemetery. As soon as the car stopped, granddaughter whipped her head around to look out the window at the cemetery. She became excited and very happy, chatting in baby talk and waving at the cemetery. The minute the light changed and the car began moving, she returned to her quiet self. Hubby and I still talk about that moment. It’s been said that babies can see ghosts and often babble with them. I can vouch that it is true.
My fourth encounter was with Milly the Quilter. Many of you remember my stories and blog posts about Milly. We had ten wonderful years together in my classroom, as she worked with children to make beautiful quilts. They hang at museums and places of prominence. When Milly became sick with kidney failure, she was moved to a care facility. I visited her often, and we enjoyed reminiscing. Her proudest moment was presenting her quilt to the Governor of Massachusetts, who dropped onto one knee and clasped her hands to have a private conversation. Not a dry eye in the house. One day I got a call from her granddaughter to tell me her health was rapidly deteriorating. Shortly thereafter she called to say, “Come now!” I jumped into the car and drove (way too fast) to get to Milly. When I was five minutes away, I had a huge wave rush over me. It nearly knocked me to the back of my car seat. Suddenly, there was peace, a tidal wave of peace. I knew Milly had died. She was right there with me. She was smiling and telling me it was okay. That was her way. When I got to her care facility, her granddaughter told me I’d missed saying goodbye, as Milly had died five minutes earlier. “I know. She was with me five minutes ago. She smiled and said it was okay.”
From time to time (not often) I feel a very strong presence of my grandmother, and Hubby’s mother. I talk. They listen. It’s really wonderful.
I ask Hubby, “Do you ever feel or see your mom or dad, or brother, or sister?” No, he never does. I ponder why I’ve been lucky to feel and see ghosts, spirits, and angels. Honestly, I believe my open heart and mind, much like the children I teach, holds the key.
Jennie
‘Just hired, 40 years ago’.
It’s My Workiversary.
Your words to me are beautiful. Thank you!
A Teacher's Reflections 