The Things I Know - The Unexplained

Today I’m going to talk about something that may cause people to stop reading my blog. If that’s the case, I respect your decision and understand the way that this sounds, and how some of you are going to just think I’m plain crazy. The truth of the matter is, though, that sometimes even I think I’m crazy. Only, I’ve done this for so long that it would be weird for me if I couldn’t do this anymore. I would freak out, and be utterly confused and lost, because as weird as this is, it’s a part of me. But to be honest, it’s still weird for me, too.

I was an odd kid, and ever since I can remember, I was surrounded by lots of people. Growing up in my first home, there was a wonderful older woman who sat and knitted in the corner of my bedroom at nights. There was a man who wondered around, and I had a few conversations with. There were little girls who came up to me, some my age, at different places and different times and we started up conversations.

The problem was, I was the only one who saw them. I would be there having a long, drawn out, two way conversation, only to find out that everyone else thought I was nuts, because all they saw was me talking to myself. I didn’t understand, because I saw these people as clear as I can see what I’m writing right now. I thought they were the weird ones. I thought they needed glasses.

As I grew up, this got even worse, sometimes spilling into dreams and me knowing things I should have never known, or had no logical way of knowing. At first I would tell people about this, but then, once I realized I was the only one who knew these things or saw these people, I stopped and learned to hide everything.

When I was fourteen my grandfather died. I guess I had always known exactly what was going on with me, who I was seeing but never the why, but it wasn’t until we were on the way to the funeral home to make arrangements after his passing, and I felt something on my shoulder. I looked to my left to see him sitting there as plain as day, and I knew what I could do and what I was.

There was no way to explain it. I had seen his body that morning in the hospital and I knew he was dead. I also knew no one else could see him, but I could. As plain as day, as sure as I sit here writing this. He was there.

You can believe me if you want, or choose to think I’m crazy. It doesn’t matter to me, because a lot of times I think I’m crazy, too, but I know what I see. Over the years I’ve helped some people, and I’ve known things that I’ve had no way of knowing. Don’t ask me how or why, because I don’t have the answers to any of those questions. I wish I did.

It’s only been in the past few years that I’ve really learned to hone this gift. Before that, I saw what I saw and talked to who I talked to, and then pretended as if it hadn’t happened. I have several people who could attest to the conversation I’ve had with people who weren’t there, but became utterly confused when I was told no one was there. Sometimes I became plain out complacent. I had seen and was talking to someone. End of story.

One of the most interesting moments, and fulfilling moments I had came when a friend of mine asked me if her mother could talk to me about her father’s death. I didn’t know her father, nor did I meet her until years after his death and her mother was remarried. No one in her family talked about his death, yet when her mom asked me if I could tell her what happened, I accounted everything back to her, including something she knew in her heart; he didn’t kill himself.

Later, upon talking, she told me that the police also suspected this, and she told me she knew in her heart who had done it. While talking to her the first time, I had told her who I was being told had done it and how. This matched up with exactly what was suspected, but again, I had no way of knowing this. I would have been about seven when her husband died, and I didn’t meet her until a good ten years later. And yet I don’t know how I knew this, yet I did. Someone stood there and someone told me, and I just repeated it back to her.

Two Christmases ago I was at my Great, Great Aunt Pearl’s funeral. I didn’t know her all that well, only having met her a few times when I was younger and having not see her in years. When I walked in, there she stood at the head of her casket. Like I said, it was Christmastime and she was extremely unhappy that we were taking time out of our lives to visit her when she was already dead, instead of spending time with our families.

She went on to complain about how one of the lights was out in the chandelier and how unprofessional it was, and how she couldn’t figure out why anyone would think she would like such a gaudy, old lady casket. She was in her 90s, and she was right, the casket was gaudy and looked quite flashy for a pimpin’ old lady.

At times, I had to walk out of the room because I was laughing so hard. Others, I had to leave because I found myself having conversations with her, and eventually the funeral home got busy and people started to stare. Not like that ever stopped me, but I didn’t feel like explaining to her children why I was having a conversation with the head of her casket.

Then, towards the end of the funeral, a relative’s grandson was getting restless. I was still standing at the head of the casket, but had stopped talking when I spotted the relative heading over with him, as he was only four. They said their peace and left the little boy to wander around a little, since he was so restless. As soon as his grandma walked away, he looked at me wide eyes and said, “you see her too.” I nodded my head and put my finger to my lips. He ran away, sat down, and suddenly stopped being so restless.

After all these years, all I’ve seen, and all I’ve been able to prove and back up, I still wonder, why me? To me, this is normal. To other people, this is plain weird, and I understand. I respect that.

Lately, I’ve been seeing more and more, and knowing more and more. I seem to collect a lot of young girls around my age, most of whom did not die a natural death. Sometimes they have messages, sometimes they want help, and sometimes they want answers for why they didn’t get a chance to live life long enough to die of natural causes. And I don’t always know what to tell them, or how to tell their family members what they want me to say. As long as I’ve done this, I still struggle with this. How do you just track down someone you don’t know and give them a message from a deceased loved one? This is something I don’t know if I’ll ever understand, or find the right way to do.

I’m telling all of you this because I know there are some believers out there and some people who have a lot of questions. I’m here to answer them, and if I can help you in any way, I will do that, too. I can’t promise I can help everyone, or anyone for that matter. I’m not a psychic and I would never claim to be. I simply see and can communicate with who choses to come to me. Sometimes I can find people and answers between the lines, but I can’t make anyone come to me who doesn’t want to, or doesn’t have anything to say.

Life, this gift, is about more than just myself. If I can help someone, I will. I know eventually, if things continue how they are, I will eventually find myself explaining myself to people whom I’d rather not, but, if ultimately, I can help someone move on, living or dead, that’s what I’d like to do, as long as it’s not at a permanent expense to myself. There has to be a balance.

So I hope you will take what I said in stride and think about. Some of you will write me off immediately. I understand and respect you for it, but for those who won’t, come, talk to me, ask questions if you have them. I’ll answer what I can, because I’m here to help. I know there’s people out there feeling lost, and in a little bit of selfishness, I’m hoping maybe someone will contact me; a family member who belongs with one of my girls, and I can know they will believe what I have to say and I can give them the messages they need to have, because I don’t know how else to do it.

I don’t hate that I can do this, and I’m always the first person to look for scientific proof. If something happens I can’t explain, or someone gives me information, I research it. Most of the time it adds up, and sometimes it doesn’t. And if it doesn’t, I move on. Sometimes it makes sense later, and sometimes it doesn’t, but I never press something without cold, hard proof that I can hold in my hand. One thing I know for sure, though, is I’ve never met anyone who didn’t believe me after spending a little bit of time for me. I never ask them to; you can believe what you want, but this has been my experience.

I put this out here for you guys, knowing I will be judged, but being okay with that, because this is my life. I don’t know anything different. If you would like, I can tell many stories about things that have happened to me throughout the years. If you don’t like this segment and think I’m crazy, tell me that, too, because I will never talk about this again. It’s up to you guys.

All I ask is, even if you don’t believe, please try to respect me. I know no different than what I see. I would never shove my views on you or ask you to believe and I ask you to please allow me the same courtesy. Thank you.