We chase after ghosts and spirits and are left holding only memories and dreams. It's not that we want what we can't have; it's that we've held all we could want and then had to watch it slip away.
CHARLES DE LINT
One phrase, or several similar phrases, I have heard since my husband’s death all deal particularly with my husband’s spirit. That he is watching me, beside me, protecting me, trying to comfort me. I know that those who tell me this really and truly believe it….and I want to believe it too.
Unfortunately, I’m just not feeling it.
I’ve tried everything to see if I could feel his presence. Lying perfectly still, relaxing, talking to him, begging, pleading for some little sign…anything. I’ve even given up eating olives, which I love, because someone told me that olives had a negating effect on a person’s ability to hear and see the paranormal.
Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.
At this point in time, I would give and tolerate anything to be able to commune with my husband. I have daydreams of living like the Ghost and Mrs. Muir. To have the ability to interact with my husband. Talk to him, tell him about my day, my troubles. Even as an ethereal spirit, I would be happy to be with him.
So far…nothing.
I read online about people who have felt their lost loved ones around them. Or have seen apparitions of their loved ones. Or have had vivid dreams about their loved ones where they speak and interact with them.
These posts make me extremely jealous.
Usually, by the time I do fall asleep, I do so in an exhausted state and rarely remember my dreams, except with a vague feeling of unease at the nightmarish taint left over.
In true Ghost Hunter fashion, I’ve asked my husband to make a sound, a knock, a whisper…anything. But all I’ve ever heard was the ice maker in the refrigerator. And yes, I’ve ordered a digital recorder in the hopes that I might hear something. It should be here in 5 – 7 business days with “free economy shipping”.
As the time gets longer and longer without my husband, I find myself clutching at anything that has any memory or association with him. I’ll be honest, if I can’t have him here physically then I will settle for having him here spiritually.
I do believe in ghosts. I’ve had encounters and have seen evidence that is hard to debunk. Other people have seen or witnessed paranormal events at our house (we will never be able to use that plumber again…there are still tread marks on the pavement outside of our gate where he left in an extreme hurry).
Before my husband’s death, we would see shadows darting around, here odd little knocks and rustles. The four legged furry brigade would all be lined up on the floor, sitting and staring at one spot, tails wagging, as if the ghost was holding a ghostly doggy snack in front of them.
I would hear my husband call my name, or he would hear me call him when neither of us did so. Although, that part may be debunked as we do have mockingbirds and they can mimic sounds (one whistles to our outside dog constantly and drives him nuts).
One day, while I was in the laundry room at the back of the house, I heard the front door open (it has always had a distinctive squeak we never seem to get around to fixing) and my husband call out that he was home, realistic enough to the point that I answered him and told him I was in the laundry room. A minute later my cell phone rang and it was my husband telling me that he was still in town and was delayed.
But since my husband’s death, I have seen and heard nothing. Not even our resident ghost has made an appearance.
Sometimes I will think I see a shadow, but it is usually a bird or the cat or even the shadow of a plane flying overhead. The four legged furry brigade haven’t sat staring in that corner even once.
I haven’t heard my name called or felt that odd feeling in the back of your neck when you suddenly know you are not alone.
It’s as if, with the passing of my husband, all of the spirits went with him.
I do have hope though. The lady that cleans our house has felt fingers running up her back and seen people walking across the porch when no one was there. The ghost used to play with my hair all the time. Lifting it up, twirling it, sometimes even slightly tugging on it. But not anymore.
Since my husband died….nothing.
I am envious of my house keeper. I want to see the shadow and feel those ghostly fingers. I want to feel as if someone was staring at me right this moment. Because then I could possibly think that it was my husband and that he didn’t leave me all alone.
To be honest, I think the real reason I want proof that my husband is still here with me, is that then, I can believe that one day we will be together again. One day we will see each other. One day I will be complete and whole once more.
I think I could bear the current loneliness, the ache and the emptiness, if I knew that it would not always be this way. If I knew that somewhere down the road my husband is waiting for me.
Oh, I have imagination enough to daydream about it. I can picture it a dozen ways, each as real as the next. But I also know that wishing and having are two different things.
Sometimes, I almost think that I can feel my husband’s arms around me when I am most sad. The ‘still believe in magic’ side of me wants to think that the feeling is real. The ‘have seen the world’ more realistic side of me tells me it is my imagination.
Every time that someone tells me that he is with me, that he is watching, that he is right beside me, I smile and nod and say thank you. Because who am I to dismiss what they say, what they believe. I mean isn’t that what this all boils down to? Faith?
Faith that there is a heaven. Faith that loving spirits surround us.
Maybe I’m too practical.
Maybe I want too much. After all, if my husband truly can be here with me, helping me, guiding me, then why can’t he do simple things that would be extremely helpful? Such as telling his dog not to pee in the kitchen, or helping to housebreak the pup. Or better yet, manipulate the lottery so I have the winning numbers.
I know I should probably take these questions to my priest, but right now I’m still mad at God and it wouldn’t be polite to go to Someone’s home when you are mad at Them. In fact, we’ve had a new priest since and I haven’t even met him yet. Not certain how my first impression with him would be – “Hello Father, I’m really, really pissed at God right now because my husband died and I’m starting to get pissed at my husband because he is not returning back to me as a ghost and I was wondering if you could tell me why.”
Although that would be a memorable introduction, I’m not sure if the priest wouldn’t immediately try and get me committed. Does the Catholic Church have a mental institution?
Widowhood is made up of “I wants”. I want my husband to still be alive. I want this nightmare to end. I want to be able to sleep without resorting to chemistry. I want, I want, I want….
Widowhood is also made up of realities. I can’t have my husband back alive. This nightmare does not end. I will probably be sleeping through chemistry for quite a long while. Reality just smacks me in the face, constantly.
And that’s the main reason why I want proof of the afterlife. I want proof that my husband’s spirit is here with me. I want to incorporate that into my reality. To give me a little comfort and solace while I face all of the other realities of just living and surviving on a daily basis.
As Shakespeare wrote in Henry IV Part I:
Glendower. - I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Hotspur. - Why, so can I; or so can any man:
But will they come when you do call for them ?
(1 Henry IV, 3.1)
I just want my husband to answer when I call for him. That’s not too much to ask for, is it?
CHARLES DE LINT
One phrase, or several similar phrases, I have heard since my husband’s death all deal particularly with my husband’s spirit. That he is watching me, beside me, protecting me, trying to comfort me. I know that those who tell me this really and truly believe it….and I want to believe it too.
Unfortunately, I’m just not feeling it.
I’ve tried everything to see if I could feel his presence. Lying perfectly still, relaxing, talking to him, begging, pleading for some little sign…anything. I’ve even given up eating olives, which I love, because someone told me that olives had a negating effect on a person’s ability to hear and see the paranormal.
Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.
At this point in time, I would give and tolerate anything to be able to commune with my husband. I have daydreams of living like the Ghost and Mrs. Muir. To have the ability to interact with my husband. Talk to him, tell him about my day, my troubles. Even as an ethereal spirit, I would be happy to be with him.
So far…nothing.
I read online about people who have felt their lost loved ones around them. Or have seen apparitions of their loved ones. Or have had vivid dreams about their loved ones where they speak and interact with them.
These posts make me extremely jealous.
Usually, by the time I do fall asleep, I do so in an exhausted state and rarely remember my dreams, except with a vague feeling of unease at the nightmarish taint left over.
In true Ghost Hunter fashion, I’ve asked my husband to make a sound, a knock, a whisper…anything. But all I’ve ever heard was the ice maker in the refrigerator. And yes, I’ve ordered a digital recorder in the hopes that I might hear something. It should be here in 5 – 7 business days with “free economy shipping”.
As the time gets longer and longer without my husband, I find myself clutching at anything that has any memory or association with him. I’ll be honest, if I can’t have him here physically then I will settle for having him here spiritually.
I do believe in ghosts. I’ve had encounters and have seen evidence that is hard to debunk. Other people have seen or witnessed paranormal events at our house (we will never be able to use that plumber again…there are still tread marks on the pavement outside of our gate where he left in an extreme hurry).
Before my husband’s death, we would see shadows darting around, here odd little knocks and rustles. The four legged furry brigade would all be lined up on the floor, sitting and staring at one spot, tails wagging, as if the ghost was holding a ghostly doggy snack in front of them.
I would hear my husband call my name, or he would hear me call him when neither of us did so. Although, that part may be debunked as we do have mockingbirds and they can mimic sounds (one whistles to our outside dog constantly and drives him nuts).
One day, while I was in the laundry room at the back of the house, I heard the front door open (it has always had a distinctive squeak we never seem to get around to fixing) and my husband call out that he was home, realistic enough to the point that I answered him and told him I was in the laundry room. A minute later my cell phone rang and it was my husband telling me that he was still in town and was delayed.
But since my husband’s death, I have seen and heard nothing. Not even our resident ghost has made an appearance.
Sometimes I will think I see a shadow, but it is usually a bird or the cat or even the shadow of a plane flying overhead. The four legged furry brigade haven’t sat staring in that corner even once.
I haven’t heard my name called or felt that odd feeling in the back of your neck when you suddenly know you are not alone.
It’s as if, with the passing of my husband, all of the spirits went with him.
I do have hope though. The lady that cleans our house has felt fingers running up her back and seen people walking across the porch when no one was there. The ghost used to play with my hair all the time. Lifting it up, twirling it, sometimes even slightly tugging on it. But not anymore.
Since my husband died….nothing.
I am envious of my house keeper. I want to see the shadow and feel those ghostly fingers. I want to feel as if someone was staring at me right this moment. Because then I could possibly think that it was my husband and that he didn’t leave me all alone.
To be honest, I think the real reason I want proof that my husband is still here with me, is that then, I can believe that one day we will be together again. One day we will see each other. One day I will be complete and whole once more.
I think I could bear the current loneliness, the ache and the emptiness, if I knew that it would not always be this way. If I knew that somewhere down the road my husband is waiting for me.
Oh, I have imagination enough to daydream about it. I can picture it a dozen ways, each as real as the next. But I also know that wishing and having are two different things.
Sometimes, I almost think that I can feel my husband’s arms around me when I am most sad. The ‘still believe in magic’ side of me wants to think that the feeling is real. The ‘have seen the world’ more realistic side of me tells me it is my imagination.
Every time that someone tells me that he is with me, that he is watching, that he is right beside me, I smile and nod and say thank you. Because who am I to dismiss what they say, what they believe. I mean isn’t that what this all boils down to? Faith?
Faith that there is a heaven. Faith that loving spirits surround us.
Maybe I’m too practical.
Maybe I want too much. After all, if my husband truly can be here with me, helping me, guiding me, then why can’t he do simple things that would be extremely helpful? Such as telling his dog not to pee in the kitchen, or helping to housebreak the pup. Or better yet, manipulate the lottery so I have the winning numbers.
I know I should probably take these questions to my priest, but right now I’m still mad at God and it wouldn’t be polite to go to Someone’s home when you are mad at Them. In fact, we’ve had a new priest since and I haven’t even met him yet. Not certain how my first impression with him would be – “Hello Father, I’m really, really pissed at God right now because my husband died and I’m starting to get pissed at my husband because he is not returning back to me as a ghost and I was wondering if you could tell me why.”
Although that would be a memorable introduction, I’m not sure if the priest wouldn’t immediately try and get me committed. Does the Catholic Church have a mental institution?
Widowhood is made up of “I wants”. I want my husband to still be alive. I want this nightmare to end. I want to be able to sleep without resorting to chemistry. I want, I want, I want….
Widowhood is also made up of realities. I can’t have my husband back alive. This nightmare does not end. I will probably be sleeping through chemistry for quite a long while. Reality just smacks me in the face, constantly.
And that’s the main reason why I want proof of the afterlife. I want proof that my husband’s spirit is here with me. I want to incorporate that into my reality. To give me a little comfort and solace while I face all of the other realities of just living and surviving on a daily basis.
As Shakespeare wrote in Henry IV Part I:
Glendower. - I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Hotspur. - Why, so can I; or so can any man:
But will they come when you do call for them ?
(1 Henry IV, 3.1)
I just want my husband to answer when I call for him. That’s not too much to ask for, is it?
