By Judi Curry / OB Rag
Let’s begin this article by acknowledging that I am not a believer. I am an agnostic at best; still looking for answers that I haven’t yet found. With that in mind, three things have happened over the past few years that I can’t explain, and the latest still gives me goose bumps in thinking about it. Let’s start at the beginning.
Seven years ago my husband Bob died. I joined a widow support group and one of the things we decided to do was to see if a “Medium” could bring our husbands messages back to us. There were nine of us going to Harmony Grove to find out.
As we were all coming from different parts of San Diego, we met at a central location, and I drove with Rosey to meet the others. On the way there, she mentioned that she was always puzzled why she had such a bad relationship with her mother. She said it was as if her mother didn’t like her; liked her sister and her brother, but she was always the “odd one out.” Rosey and I were the only ones in the car.
The Widows all arrived and we sat next to each other in an auditorium that seated about 100 people. Everyone was there for the same reason: to get in touch with a loved one.
Halfway through the evening, the Medium asked if there was someone named “Rosey” in the audience. She had to ask twice before our Rosey said that was her name. The Medium said that she had a message for her from her Mother. (Goose bumps yet?)
The Medium said: “Your mother wants you to know why she treated you the way she did. It seems that between your sister and brother there was another sister; one that did not live long after she was born. (Rosey did not know of this sister!) Your mother felt that you were trying to be a “replacement” and it was very difficult for her to overcome that feeling.
Suffice it to say Rosey was non-plussed, and as we met for coffee after the meeting the entire topic was about Rosey and the revelation. It was at our coffee meeting that we told the others about our conversation on the drive over there.
Explain that, if you can.
The second episode that still has me shaking my head happened earlier this year when I was having a Reike massage. My therapist is excellent as a masseuse, and asked if she could do some Reike as part of the procedure. I didn’t know what it entailed so I agreed enthusiastically.
Following the treatment, Mary – the therapist – said to me that my mother was there at the proceeding. (Mary and I have never discussed my mother.) She said, “your mother wants to apologize to you for being such a horrible person to you. She was too concerned and selfish with herself to show you any love. She would like you to forgive her!”
Mary told me things that my mother “said” and they were actual things that happened; things that Mary could not have known beforehand. Things that I have kept bottled up for years and have told no one. Eerie? You bet.
The latest episode to happen started only two months ago. If you have read my writings in the past, you are aware that I have a friend – Cowboy — that lives in North Dakota. Several times a year I go there to visit; sometimes he comes here. He is a true “Cowboy”; raising livestock, chickens, etc.
Two months ago Cowboy drove to Colorado to a livestock sale. The sale is immaterial to this article, except to say that on the drive back he decided to see his brother – Harold – whom he had not seen for at least seven years. Harold lives in South Dakota. He spent a day with him and then began his trip back home.
As was our procedure, I called him every night to make sure he was ok; had no car problems, etc., and this night was no different. Well….no different in that I made the call. But what differed was that Harold picked up the phone. I asked to speak to Cowboy but Harold told me that he had left about 6 hours ago.
“Did he leave his phone with you?” “No. This is MY phone.”
I accused he and Cowboy of playing a trick on me, but Harold assured me that this was his – Harold’s phone – and no trick was being played. Yeah, sure. He gave me his phone number in case I wanted to call him back. A few hours later Cowboy called me to tell me he arrived home. (Are you with me so far?)
Fast forward to Tuesday afternoon, September 6th. Using my memory dialer, I called Cowboy to check on him because he had been ill. He has a very unique way of answering the phone, but when the phone was answered this time, it was in a “normal” way. I said “Hi – how are you feeling.” The voice answered back, “Doing ok. Out in the pasture.”
Two things were wrong: Cowboy has never called his land “pasture” and the voice was different. I said “Where’s Cowboy?” He said he didn’t know; that he had received about 10 calls for him that day and didn’t understand why. He said he just told the people that Cowboy wasn’t there. I asked the voice where he was and he said, “South Dakota.” (Remember – Cowboy lives in North Dakota.)
I took down the number I reached, checked it with the previous number that I had for Harold and found it was not the same number. I apologized for bothering him, but said I would like to call him again just to make sure that my memory dialer called the right number. I did; and the voice answered the phone again. I asked him if I could call him one more time, from my cell phone this time, to see if it was my phone that was calling the wrong number. He agreed, and I was amazed when he again answered the cell phone number. I never asked him his name; just apologized and hung up.
Fortunately, Cowboy has another number and I called him and told him what had happened. Since the number I had called is his business number, I thought he should be aware that he might be losing business if the number was not going through to him. He told me he was going to town – 45 miles away – and would go into the phone store to check it out.
Later that night when we talked, I asked him about the phone. He said to me, “How come you didn’t tell me it was my brother Harold that you were calling?” Huh? I didn’t know it was Harold; the number was a different number. He told me that they talked for about 5-6 minutes; everything was fine, and that the phone company changed the number because they could not explain the problem. He was glad he talked to Harold; probably wouldn’t have done so if this hadn’t happened.
On Thursday night – the 8th – Cowboy called me. Harold passed away from a heart attack.
Explain to me how I kept dialing the right number only to get the wrong person. Explain to me why that happened. Explain to me how the Medium knew about Rosey’s mother. Explain to me how my therapist knew about my mother. Explain to me how Cowboy managed to say “goodbye” to his brother, without knowing that would be the last time they talked? Explain to me what phenomenon occurred to allow these things to happen. Tell me what scientific reasons and proof are there as to why these things happened. Don’t give me nebulous thoughts and ideas. Tell me how and why. Please.
I’m not a believer yet, but am sure looking for answers to these questions. And no, I have not forgiven my mother, and no, I don’t think I will in the foreseeable future.