If you have ever visited a medium or spiritualist church, you may ask yourself why people would even want to choose to contact the spirit world. Most want to seek the reassurance that their loved ones are happy, or to ask questions. They might have unresolved feelings of guilt over past events and want to put the record straight. For most people, the underlying reason it so recieve confirmation of life after death.
Many people beleive that we all have within us the power to communicate with the spirit world. It takes years of practice and training to recognise the higher vibrations of communication and effectively talk to the deceased, but in times of emotion and stress, when the need is great enough, the spirits will often contact us.
Which is exactly what happened to me.... twice.
I was eight when my dad died. I was grief stricken as he was the only one who made time for me, who loved me unconditionally. During the grieving period I wasn't allowed to stay at home, wasn't allowed to the funeral, wasn't allowed to say my last goodbyes to him... During this time I cried myself to sleep every night. Mostly i was exhausted every night going to bed, and didn't dream, but one night I had a weird expereince.
In my dream, I was playing in my family garden when my dad appeared. He looked well, younger. He bent down to pick me up. I was crying by the time my father hugged me, wiping away my tears. Then I woke up. I looked around my room and could smell his aftershave... old spice... then i heard his voice... " I only wanted to say goodbye my .. jody ann.... and I could feel him holding my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Then he was gone and i realised that wasn't a normal dream. I ran to my mother, telling her I saw daddy and he came to say goodbye to me, and well... the reception wasn't a good one.
The second experience i had was years later. I was leaving the house one morning to do the school run when i heard an almighty crash coming from upstairs. I put my bag down, shut the door again, and ran upstairs to see what was what. On my bedroom floor was a picture of my parents that sat on the bedroom chest of drawers. The glass was smashed, and I couldnt figure out why it had fallen. There were no windows open as i was on my way out the door, so no reason i could see for it falling down with enough force to smash the glass. I gathered the broken fragments of glass up and as i was heading back downstairs i smelt it... burning. I checked the kids were ok in the buggy then ran to the kitchen, only to find i had left the cooker hob switched on and a tea towel had fallen across it and was in flames. Luckily the fire was relatively small and easily extinguished, but left any longer it could have burnt the house down. I knew then, why the picture upstairs had fallen over... my dad was protecting me, from the other side.
After that, i began noticing other strange events and occurences, all at times when i needed a helping hand shall we call it... My dad never failed to protect me from joining him.