The tour guide was only half kidding when she said “We aren’t responsible if any of the ghosts follow you home.” It brought back memories of The Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. I could almost hear the sonorous tones of the heavy male narrator’s voice from the ghostly Disney ride override the tour guide uttering the same phrase. She added cheerily, “but if they do, please call us, we’d love to come investigate!”
No need, the ghostly lady in the back seat wasn’t the first to hitch a ride with us, and I’m sure she won’t be the last. I can see and talk to the dead, and help them cross the veil to the other side if they are earthbound. Hub and I were almost home when she made her presence known. Thin, willowy, but too heavily scarred by sorrow to be called beautiful, the dead lady kept looking longingly at my husband from where she perched behind him in the car. “My husband? Where is my husband, and my baby?” She asked repeatedly. She was confused, didn’t understand how she was suddenly in this strange carriage, didn’t completely understand she was dead, and far out of her own time.
It took a little effort to get her attention, she was fixated on Hub, mistaking him for her long dead husband. I reached out, snapping my fingers in front of her face and calling sharply to her. When I got her to finally look at and respond to me, I got her story in an instant. Husband and baby both sickened and died. She wasn’t sure of what, just showed them to me as feverish and coughing. She answered “Marie” when I asked her name, but kept reaching toward Hub with her insubstantial hands. Her pain was a tangible presence in the car, she’d died of a broken heart.
“He’s not your husband. He’s mine. Your husband and baby are dead, and you are too.” She turned big, pale eyes to me, uncomprehending. “You are dead. You’re a ghost, stuck here on the earthplane.” I told her. By this time we had arrived home. Hub got out of the car, leaving me alone in it after he parked it in the garage. Just me and the ghost. Outside the car door, my chickens began to stir and cluck uneasily in their darkened henhouse. It felt dark and heavy in the garage, as if the lights weren’t bright enough.
“I miss them so.” She whispered. “Why can’t I find them? How did I get here?” She was full of questions. I don’t know how other mediums communicate with spirits, but I find it easier and truer if I stick to emotions and images with minimal words. I show them what I mean. So you’ll have to forgive me for translating some of those images, emotions and thoughts into sentences. It makes an easier read and description of something that is sometimes difficult to transpose into words.
I also work very closely with my guides and guardian spirits. I ask them to come close and aid the spirits I work with, easing their transition across the veil to home. There in my garage, sitting in my car, I called in my guides and asked them to help locate this woman’s loved ones on the other side. Marie continued to stare around the car and darkened garage, she was starting to get frightened and tune me out. “Where did the man go? Is that my husband?” She continued to fixate on Hub.
“Hey, Marie. I need you to listen to me for just a moment.”
“No.” Indignant. She didn’t want to listen to some random woman, she wanted to find her family. I could understand that, but she wasn’t going to find them at my house. “Why should I listen to you?” Disbelief, scorn. She sneered.
“I can try to help you find them, Marie.” Again she turned those big, pale eyes on me. Anger showed in them. “You don’t know my husband. I don’t know you. Where am I?” She was starting to get agitated, the atmosphere in the car darkened more, and it was hard to see out the windows.
When the spirits get upset, the only answer to their fear or anger is love. I powered up my heart chakra, and offered her pure spiritual love. I showed her I held only compassion for her and real desire to help. “I want to help you, I want to try, and my guides want to help you too.” Her expression of anger slowly melted, as she took in that I meant what I said, and that I wasn’t affected by her anger.
In Reiki II, my class learned a technique called the Bridge of Light. It is a spiritual energy bridge offered to one who is about to die, or to spirits who have not yet crossed over. For the dead, and the dying it eases their transition, and connects them with loved ones already on the other side of the veil. I showed Marie the bridge, and offered the energy to her. I offered her additional Reiki energy to help her heal her psychic wounds, and to help her retrieve the parts of her soul that she’d lost along the way.
Anger and mistrust dissolved. “Truly?” She was afraid to hope.
“Yes.” I told her. “And my guides mean it too.” Marie touched the Bridge of Light with one foot, and her whole being lit up. She took two steps, and smiled tentatively. Her lips stretched wider as she followed the path laid out on the Bridge, aided by her own guiding spirits who met her and welcomed her before she’d traveled halfway across. Her spirit lit brightly as the missing parts of her soul flew home to join her as she fully crossed the veil.
With an nearly audible pop, the atmosphere in the garage lightened. It had a bright and sparkly feel, and the hens uttered soft coos as they settled back into sleep. Marie blew me a light kiss and a thank-you as she joined her family on the other side. I smiled and got out of the car.
“Everything okay?” Hub asked as he threw the ball for our Lab to chase. It glows in the dark, so she can find it at night. I took a deep breath and looked around our yard, then back into the garage. No ghosts.
“Everything’s just fine.” I told him.