Let me start by saying that I originally planned on recounting a very different experience than what you’ll read below. This week’s post is very, very close to my heart. I got goosebumps remembering all the details. It wasn’t a story I planned on sharing, but after typing it out, I understand now why you need to read it.
Growing up, it was the (uncomfortable) joke in the family that when I was around, the ghosts were too. I’ve always been a magnet for spirits. As a child, I didn’t understand this. I had experiences that I didn’t understand and, at times, frightened me.
During my early teen years, my mom and I moved to be closer to my grandparents, which I loved as I was very close to both of them. Grandma ALWAYS had cookies, and Grandpa always put a smile on my face.
My grandpa was the first person to tell me not to be afraid of the things I saw. On one particular occasion, I had just walked into the finished lower level of my grandparent’s house when I saw a man sitting in the chair, watching me. I was terrified. I ran up the stairs, went straight to my grandfather’s room and anxiously recounted to him what I saw.
My grandfather smiled and said, “Oh, that’s just the man that visits me from time-to-time, you don’t need to be afraid of him. I bet he wants to talk to you.”
“No way, Grandpa. I’ll never do that.” I had responded with certainty. Cleary, I had no idea what was in store for me at the time, but I like to think that my grandfather did.
While my grandfather was always someone I could talk to, I find myself wishing now I would have known while he was alive that we shared the gift of being able to see and hear the spirits around us.
When he fell ill and was in the hospital, someone in the family mentioned that Grandpa kept talking about how the man would visit him with Darcy (a family dog that was beloved by many).
Towards the end of his life, after he had fallen into a coma, my mom took me to visit him to say goodbye. Before we got there, she spent time explaining to me that he wouldn’t respond, but that he would hear me. I remember not totally understanding what she meant, but that I was excited to see my grandfather.
We went into his room, and right to his bedside. My mom briefly said hello to him, then stepped out to use the bathroom.
I wasn’t sure what to say or do, so I just looked at him. It was a calm moment.
Then, without warning, he opened his eyes and looked at me. I remember thinking that his eyes looked different, and that it was like he was looking through me, not at me.
He started talking then, clearly, and without any indication that anything was bothering him.
“Don’t be scared. I’m okay. Take care of your mother. Take care of each other. Don’t be scared.”
“Grandpa, Mom’s here. You can tell her.” At this point I started calling my mom, assuming she’d be happy that Grandpa was awake. She came out of the bathroom, walked a couple steps towards me, and I could see the surprise on her face. I vaguely remember her saying something to him, then running out to get the doctors. He hadn’t talked to her, he continued to only address me.
When she left the room, he smiled at me, I smiled at him, then he shut his eyes once again.
That was the last time I saw my grandfather. He died weeks later. The doctors could never find an explanation as to why he was able to speak to me that day.
He visits everyone in the family every now and then in our dreams, showing us that he’s happy, healthy, and always with us. And, on occassion, will interrupt a reading to get his message across.
In one instance, I had been sitting in on a reading that a close friend of mine was giving my finacé. Grandpa interrupted to tell my finacé that he approves, and that he wanted him to know how special I am.
And, only a few months ago, during a reading I was giving for a medium, Grandpa insisted on interrupting her reading so she could talk for him. “He’s so proud of you,” she told me.
I asked why, a little confused. Nothing notable had happened in my life.
“Because,” he had said, “You’re not scared anymore. You’ve finally embraced your gift.”
Were you moved by my grandpa? Share your grandpa story below!