Yes, I Believe in Spirits — Oops, I said it Again

Today, my husband has a new treatment for his lymphoma – a six hour antibody treatment which usually has some side effects. This makes us both a little nervous, which means that he gets quiet and I turn into Patch Adams, running around the chemo area making everybody laugh. Thank God I left my red nose at home.

To get us going, nurse Wanda sat down and started Neil’s IV. Suddenly, we heard Christmas music playing. “Where is that coming from?” I asked. “I am not ready for Christmas again.”

“Oh, Lord,” Wanda laughed, “My dad passed away last December and I thought I was the only one hearing the music.”

I told Wanda that my dad passed away during the holidays many years ago. She nodded, and shared how her dad visited her in a dream, four nights after he passed away.

She said he was surrounded by light, and looked so young. I shared my belief that her father had come to see her, to let her know that he was more than okay. She smiled and said, “I needed to hear that today.”

I wasn’t being patronizing. And I’m not crazy, although some who know me could challenge that belief fairly convincingly.

I believe that souls are eternal for three reasons:

1. The faith in which I was raised, and the many ways God has proven his/her presence to me.
2. The scientific fact that energy never dies, it only converts to another form.
3. I have felt and seen those spirits. And, no, I don’t have my own television show.

The Spirit World and I are Like This . . .

I won’t go into too many details, because I don’t think you’re ready for the full-blown Donna. I would bet that many of you have had similar experiences to mine, but something in society doesn’t allow us to discuss them. We think it’s weird to see something that isn’t in a body. I say it’s weird if you don’t.

I remember  one particularly difficult life moment, when I leaned over my kitchen counter and began to cry. This was not an unusual event as the kitchen is my greatest nemesis, but today it was over a variety of family crises that were building with alarming speed.

As I cried, I suddenly smelled the perfume my grandmother wore, and I felt her hand on my back. “Hi Grandmom,”I said. And I knew she was there.

When my son was young, he came to me and said, “I saw Granddad last night.” Since dad had passed away, I asked for some details. “Well,” Jacob said, “I woke up in the middle of the night because something in the attic was making noise, and I was scared. Granddad showed up by my bed, and he had white fur all around him.”

I first wondered why heaven was so cold, then realized the “fur” was probably light.

“Granddad said, ‘Don’t be scared, Jacob, I’ll make the noise stop.’ And he did.”

“Were you scared when you saw him?” I asked, expecting the stereotypical “No, it was wonderful,” answer. Being a child, he was honest. “Yea, a little. I don’t really want him to come back. But he did stop the noise.”

So, while I’m not Teresa Caputo or anything, I still get it . . .

I have lots of stories about experiencing things on the other side, but I don’t want to be carried away by skeptics or paddy wagon attendees any time soon. And if any institute studied my brain they would be sorely disappointed. They would find lots of one-liners from “Friends” and various and sundry information stored from HGTV.

I believe that the souls of people are as real as the person standing next to you, even if you call me crazy. I believe in them even if I lose all of my social media followers. I believe in them even if you take away all of my snacks.

Well, wait. I don’t think spirits bring snacks, so I will still need those.