“The spirit coming through was tall and lanky. He was a grandfather figure who liked to fish and drive his truck. His heart was big and open and he says that you are his girl.”
Is it an undying curiosity or an unrelenting need to know that everything will turn out exactly how it is meant to be in the end that seems to keep bringing me back to mediums, willing and wanting to receive messages from the other side? Facebook has become an incredible conduit in my life connecting me to the past, my present, and now it seems to the here after. I happened upon a page this week for Blue Tree Reiki in York, Maine. It was pure happenstance, not sought after or even a thought in the moment. It shared that it was having a medium circle on Thursday evening and there were two spots left. The words on the page seemed to draw me in and before long I was glued to its descriptions of services and its founder. My finger hovered above the meet up button wondering if I could muster the energy to attend by myself, a new place, people I had never met, most likely touching on subjects I would rather not.
After staring at the page for what might have been minutes I allowed my finger to fall heavy upon the button and instantly commit myself to a chance encounter with the other side. And then for the following days I simply forgot about having joined and went about my way at work and resting in my bedroom at home when I should have been editing. Well after a familiar ride home in the dark on Scotland Bridge road and down 91, here I am at my keyboard, the one place where I always seem to find a certain amount of truth and clarity in my being. Now the question is like always, how much do I share?
Walter Roscoe Parker was my paternal grandfather. He was born on June 19th ( the same date as my childhood bestie) in the year 1900 in Tennecape Hants, Nova Scotia Canada. He was tall and lanky, that’s a picture of him in 1945 standing next to my dad. He died when I was only one year old from Tuberculosis. He lived on in my family for many years, long enough for me to come to know him as incredibly loving, funny, and appreciative of all things nature seemed to offer. I know this because he was often compared to my father who to me seemed the exact opposite. As the woman begun giving insights in regards to which spirit had stepped forward to speak, my heart jumped a bit hoping it might be him but I wanted to make sure. He had never come through in all the years and many visits I had paid to psychics and mediums so it was curious that he would this evening. She spoke of his fishing hat, his love for the outdoors, his truck that he drove, and his very big heart. When I finally spoke up and shared that I could take the information she was offering, the slight skip of my heart melted into a warm sensation that filled my body and brought an instant sensation of safety and love.
She then shared all the places he had been recently with me and my girls. The times he sat next to me while I typed away at my kitchen island drinking TEA and writing my story. Yes, she included those descriptive phrases in her delivery. He mentioned the countless shells found throughout our home that I have collected from multiple continents and beaches on the east and west coast and he spoke about my writing. He talked a lot about my writing and that I shouldn’t doubt myself so much because I’ve always known that’s what I’m here to do. Of course there were other bits and pieces of life strewn in but more than anything else he didn’t want me to be afraid of anything anymore. He directed me to stop holding back and to allow myself fly.
When the medium had finished channeling spirits for the evening she slowly opened her eyes, drew a few deep breaths and joined us in a conscious sort of way. She relayed to us that she was also a psychic and would take a couple of questions from each of us. I had two, one about where I work now and one about my health. She paused for each of them and answered with a sense of clarity and honesty. I allowed her responses to settle in and sat back as she moved to my friend next to me. It’s not that I ever expect cut and dry answers to all the mysteries that seem to encompass my life at any given time, it’s more that I am hoping for validation that somehow among all of the chaos and confusion I am close to being on track.
As soon as I came home I pulled my laptop from my large school bag and plugged it in and perched at my familiar writing spot on the island. I immediately went to our family tree on Wikki Tree.com and opened the images of Walter Roscoe Parker, my grandfather. Here is the first one I found, Walter fishing in his old familiar hat….now that I look at it, it seems to resemble the bucket lid we did at The Little Hat Company. It’s funny how life always seems to roll itself around.