Words from Beyond the Grave

Awhile back I wrote a post about the ancestor altar that I had made with photos of family as far back as my great grandparents. I have one and only one very small photo of my grandfather on my father’s side and his second wife. We are in their backyard outside of Montreal, Canada about 1960. My grandfather stands with one arm bent, the hand aloft holding a cigarette. My mother, brother and I are in the photo as well. My father has taken the picture; recording the first and last time we will see our grandfather. Or practically. We had no relationship with my grandfather who after divorcing from my grandmother when my father was a baby was a nonentity in all our lives. I knew nothing about him; when asked I was not even able to remember his first name. We were not informed when he passed away and received no remembrance in his will.

            But recently I had taken an interest in this line of the family, searching for living descendants in the old country. I learned about his brothers and sisters, and their children, and even ventured theories about this man who I had only heard was a bad man, a drinker. Why had his older brother named his son with my grandfather’s name? Why was my grandfather the only sibling to move to the New World?

            Last week when I asked for a medical intuitive reading, I was surprised when Rich made a connection to my grandfather, but then again, it also made sense. He didn’t give his name, but speaking through Rich he talked about a divorce and disarray in the family. He spoke about how this divorce affected the whole family, and me also, that growing up I maybe did not get as much love as I was supposed to get, but that my father tried. My grandfather said he saw I was making progress on my own. He said some things repeatedly: on the other side he sees the Truth; it is most important to be honest and truthful with ourselves, we get hindered by how we think, we don’t realize how great we are. While often Rich was searching, listening to something unheard by me, and tentative in his communications, there were times he became absolutely certain. His voice changed and it became sure and firm.

            “He makes me feel he was not the best person in the world – not the most inviting person in the world? Does that make sense?”  It did.

              I told my mother about my reading with Rich. I asked my mother what she remembers about my grandfather on that summer day in Canada. “He was quiet, “ she said. She remembered the one time that my grandmother talked about her first husband. My grandmother cried as she described his two-timing and bad behavior, and how she wanted to drown herself and her unborn baby. She had a miserable time. And because she had to work, she had to send her baby back to the old country to be raised by family there.

            Sadly, my grandmother was also not very close or even kind to my father. Maybe she saw the face of her despised first spouse when she looked at my father, or associated him with that unhappy time.

            I am still in a wondering state about this reading with Rich. To believe or not to believe - I am uncertain. I may never be certain about what I can believe about spirits of the dead, but I want to ask:

            “Are you willing to help me now grandfather?”