A few minutes ago, I was changing into my pajamas. I thought I heard my mom talking upstairs, so I stopped and listened. I didn’t hear anything and continued with what I was doing – changing my clothes, hanging up the laundry I’d just taken out of the dryer. Typical things.
A quick trip upstairs was all that was left for me to do in order to figuratively check off everything on my list for the evening. I always make one last “walk through” before calling it a night. I make sure the doors are locked. I check to ensure that the alarms are set on both my car and my mother’s car. I make sure that Mom is doing okay and I say good night – assuming she’s awake, which she usually isn’t.
Tonight, as soon as I came upstairs, I heard my mother call my name. So, of course, I went to see what was up.
After the second time saying, “What’s up, Mom?” she finally asked me if I’d been walking around. I told her that I’d been downstairs and just walked up a second before she called my name. She said, “I’ve been hearing someone walking through the house. I called your name and called your name, thinking it was you, but you didn’t answer.”
I told her that I’d been downstairs the whole time, but that I thought I’d heard her talking. But when I listened, I didn’t hear anything.
All she said was, “I know I heard someone walking through the house. Your grandmother must be here.”
What could I say to that? Well, I said the only thing I could say. “Yeah, most likely. Well, good night. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you.”
Please understand…I was not dismissing what my mother said. On the contrary, I was acknowledging it as a truth. We’ve said for years and years that our deceased family members will sometimes be in the house. If a light that we know was turned off in the basement is suddenly back on, well, that’s Grandpa playing tricks on us. He was a trickster, for sure.
My grandmother talks to my mother in her dreams. If mom is mulling over a decision to be made, Gram will often let Mom know her thoughts in a dream. Gram has talked to me too – not as often – but she has.
The most vivid thing I remember was the first Christmas Eve after Gram passed away. I was dead asleep. I mean I slept through every alarm I had. Then I woke rather suddenly. I got up, put on my shoes, and walked upstairs. My aunt was there, too, so I mumbled a happy birthday to her as I walked to the kitchen counter where my mother was cleaning the bell peppers. (It’s tradition on Christmas Eve to make Stuffed Peppers.)
I looked at the peppers, picked one up, held it up to my mom and said, “Gram says the opening needs to be larger.” I put the pepper down and went back downstairs.
Why is this significant? For a few reasons:
- I don’t like peppers. Because I don’t like peppers, I don’t eat stuffed peppers, so I have no idea one way or the other how they should be made.
- I don’t really cook. Well, I do now – I’ve had to step in and help with the holidays now that Gram is gone. But up until that point, I was never involved with making the meal for Christmas Eve.
- I don’t dream. Really. Okay…I dream. But I never, ever remember my dreams. Ever. If it’s a particularly strong dream, I might remember the tone – creepy, happy, scary, f’d up. But I don’t remember the people in the dreams or what they say or what they do.
So, yeah, my grandmother is still here. I find that comforting.
My mother has always been much more in tune with deceased family members – particularly her parents. Grandpa has talked to Mom in dreams and she’s actually seen him. So, yeah, my grandfather is still here, too. Something else I find comforting.
Have you had experiences like this?