I’m fairly certain I didn’t!
So, let me preface a couple of things here..
- The story I’m about to tell you is absolutely real. People in it are real. Will I name names? Oh hell no. 🙂 I respect the hell out of those involved far too much.
- Why am I making this a list? Ugh – I’ve been working too much…
… Ok I don’t know how you all feel about things like psychics. And I’m not wanting to start that sort of debate or drama here. You believe what you believe – please know that there are absolutely no judgements from me. What do I believe? Honestly? I don’t know. I’m a very logical person. I like to think of myself as being highly intelligent. And to me – most “psychics” I’ve had exposure to simply add to the laughable portrayals typically stereotyped as psychics. BUT.. I have also experienced things that do leave me questioning about spirits and god and things that science just cannot explain.
A couple of years ago, a dear friend of mine admitted to me that she is a psychic, and I won’t lie, at first, in my head, I thought “yea, sure.” But over the years, I’ve seen how she looks at life and others. She’s never tuned that skill on me – or if she has – she’s always stayed silent on it. And I appreciate it. She is someone I love and trust quite dearly. She changed my thoughts a lot on psychics. I think, before knowing my friend and learning from her, I thought that psychics were the people who were trying to pull a fast one. A deceiver.
Where am I going with this you’re wondering?
So recently – I had a psychic tell me they had connected with someone who’d crossed over that I loved. They knew things they should not have known. Things they could not have known. The last thing they said… “Mommy, I’m waiting.” Gave me chills. Hell – I think I had to go smoke a cigarette after hearing that. I got mad. Who the fuck are you? How do you know about him? Fuck off!
Then I got upset… Holy shit – what if Ben really is here with me somehow? Ben? Start the waterworks.
The psychic said I didn’t talk to him anymore. It’s true. I used to talk to Ben all the time. In the car on my way home, in the morning when I woke up, when I go to sleep. It felt normal and natural and ok to do. It wasn’t long conversations or anything – it was something as small as a “morning Ben!” to something like “Ben – I need advice”- and then lay out a problem I was having at work or with family. But lately, I’ve stopped. In fact, it’s been roughly 3 years since I’ve spoken to Ben. How on earth could this person have known that?!
The logical side of my brain has come up with every reason on the planet that they could have deduced this… somehow. But it seems highly unlikely that this person stalked me in the privacy of my bedroom over the last 6 years. And believe me when I say, talking to my dead son is not something I bring up in conversation with people. It’s not like I’d just say – “Oh hey so I was talking to my dead son last night…” people would look at me like I was crazy.
I’d love all your thoughts here. I don’t typically believe in this kind of stuff. But … what if? What do you believe about where we go when we die? Are there ghosts and spirits walking around with us – shouting at us to hear them? Or .. when we die, is that it? Gone. Never to be seen or heard from ever again?
Goodnight for real this time Never-land. I wrote 2 posts this evening simply because I’ve been meaning to write this and knew I’d forget or run out of time this week. Hope you are all well.
