All my life I've seen and known things others wouldn't and I shouldn't. I don't call it psychic because I feel that implies a level of control I do not possess. I spent years seeing therapists and having test run to make sure I wasn't crazy, or had a tumor, or some other health issue causing hallucinations. Every therapist said aside from ADHD, anxiety, and occasional PMDD I was more stable than most. Every test came up with no issues. I still struggle with whether or not any of it is real.
At one point I even volunteered at a haunted location working with paranormal investigators and "mediums" in an attempt to find answers, but with the exception of maybe 5 people all turned out to be alcoholics, whores (in the sense of having highly unethical and inappropriate sexual relationships with people who were married to someone else, they were married and not their spouse, or customers spouses.... yeah), and drama queens. With the exception of one medium, I miss him so much, they all turned out to be frauds including every cast and crew member of the paranormal shows on the air that came to the building . When they started faking information and evidence during investigations is when we, my group of friends and I, took our leave and started looking for authentic people.
About 2 months ago my Dad passed. I hadn't seen him in many years as we lost touch when my abusive husband (now ex) took me and the kids to live another state in an effort to keep us isolated and controlled. The town we lived in with Dad was a shit city so I didn't fight the leaving too much. I wanted a better life for my kids.
When my sister called to tell me that our Dad had died I pretty much shut down. I closed my shop and went to Texas for the funeral. LoverFace and I went down a week early to help with the funeral arrangements. Seeing my Dad in his coffin was one of the hardest things I've done. I don't like being around dead bodies in general. They are so quiet and empty it feels like being surrounded by an endless void.
My Dad was the one who helped my sister take care of her little ones since she is disabled, and the concern was starting to grow as to how she would manage without him here. I had gone through most of my life savings already due to the pandemic, only having the Boutique reopened for a couple months after 2 years closed, and paying for a large part of my Dad's funeral I had hoped to use the little that was left to buy an RV to travel for a while and then open a brick and mortar shop to run until I retire. Growing up my family was the type that my Dad was the only one who even liked me and treated me like I was welcome in the house so I expected after the funeral was over I'd be on my own in the world again for good this time. I figured my sister would find a way to make it work after we left and wouldn't actually want me to be the one to be in her house and around her kids anyway.
A couple nights before we were to head back home and try to salvage our dream with the little money we had left I had a vision. I saw my sister in a bath tub full of blood with her kids crying on the floor. I have gotten used to having visions of tragedy over the years. It doesn't get easier you just learn to cope but this one was a difficult one to shake off. Later the next day she and her husband had said more than once they wished we could stay and help out. Two signs in a 24 hour period is too much to ignore no matter what the financial costs, especially considering the potential emotional costs. So I spent the last of my savings to move my shop and my life to Texas hoping to change the vision I'd had.
While I was unpacking my things in the room I was to stay in I think my Dad was there. I could smell his after shave the entire time, and could see a shape standing near me in my peripheral vision just before I'd move. I'd leave to go to the bathroom and when I returned to the room some of my things were put up that I hadn't unpacked yet, and not where I'd want it. Over the next week or so at least once a day 2 drops of water would land on my arm. I'd look up and no wet spots on the ceiling. I'd wipe them away and my hand or napkin would still be bone dry.
Dad was Puerto Rican and when we were growing up the house was always kept hot as hell even though we lived in Georgia. We joked he loved the house to be as hot as Puerto Rico all year long. It was nuts. Now no matter what we set the thermostat on when we go to bed we wake up to it at 78 when none of us have changed it.
I hadn't planned to say anything to my sister because she doesn't have any of these gifts and I was worried it would just upset her. But she mentioned that she had some experiences that made her wonder if he was still around so we talked about it a bit and the things we have both seen tell us that he is definitely still here. He is exactly the type of man who would refuse to cross over in order to stay here with us so I shoulda seen this coming.
Interacting with spirits has never been something I found to be super fun, but the thought of seeing my Dad's spirit was/is something I am beyond not ready for even though I know he's here trying to talk to me.
My sister is struggling to move on which is something that can happen when a loved one won't leave. You can still feel them and so you can't finish the grieving process as you normally would. At some point I will have to talk to him so he can move on and set her free as well. And I think I am close to ready to do that. Grieving was easier for me than it is for her. But I've been dead before.
Have you had an experience with a loved one who passed and wouldn't/couldn't crossover? How did you handle it?
