I've often discussed the possibility of life after death with people. It's a great topic, everyone has an opinion, regardless of their belief structure. What actually happens to us after we die is still a mystery to me, seeing as I haven't actually died yet. I can say, however, that avenues of communication remain open between whatever netherworld exists and our own world. I believe this because I've actually had interactions with the dead. At the very least, I've been directly and indirectly involved with strange and wonderful incidents that simply cannot be coincidence. Allow me to elaborate...

My Father's side of my family seems to have a "psychic link" to the "spirit world." It's possible that this comes from the small bit of Choctaw blood that runs in our family. Regardless of its origin, however, it IS there. My grandmother "rode with Jesus" through a terrible snowstorm on a highway that had been closed...When my great uncle was on his deathbed, his wife saw him in their backyard, building his own coffin. The sounds of his ghostly hammer driving his own coffin nails were audible to all who were in the house at the time...My grandfather, who was a coal and uranium miner most of his life, visited my dad in a dream before the mining accident in Pennsylvania in 2002. Charles said that he and his brother were "getting ready to go help some guys out..." My dad said that he seemed excited...He was grinning from ear to ear. I don't recall ever seeing my grandfather grin from ear to ear. He must've felt very special...

I should've outlined this earlier, but now's a good time for it, too. Charles is my grandfather, he passed on right after I graduated from high school. James is my uncle, he passed on about a year after that. They have both visited us, and other family members, many times since their death. I've seen Jim doing his laundry, oddly enough, as cleaning and chores were never his strong suit. My sister has seen Jim in the dining room of her home. A friend of mine saw Jim sitting in his favorite spot, at the end of our old couch. Many people have seen him on and around the staircase at my parents' current home. (That one puzzles me most, Jim always hated stairs) My grandmother and my aunt swear that they've seen Jim and Charlie many times, and not just in their dreams...

One of the things that occurs regularly is that, no matter how many times we move or how many different places we're at, on special occasions we'll get mail addressed to Charles Knight or James Knight. We've all just accepted this as their way of saying "hi" from wherever it is they are. It's almost "old hat" now, when "their" mail arrives, I say "hi", and let them hang around for a few weeks before I discard them with the rest of the junk mail. My wife and I had moved so much in the first 3 years we were married, however, that the mail from Jim and Charlie dwindled down to almost nothing...

I mentioned already that my wife and I recently purchased a house. If you've been through the home buying process, you know about all of the different documents that you have to produce in order to qualify for a home loan. My wife and I had gone to the mortgage broker rather early in the process, providing all of the requisite information, and pre-qualifying for a loan. When it came time for the final qualification after we had found a home to buy, we had to provide the SAME documentation, only more current. "Not a problem," I thought. I'd just round up all the check stubs, tax information and bank statements and we'd be home free. I had everything I needed and was ready to deliver it to the broker, until I realized I was short one measly little bank statement.

One stupid bank statement! If I didn't find it, We'd be screwed...

The biggest problem I was facing in finding it was that my wife had already begun the process of packing our belongings in preparation for the move. Don't get me wrong, it's a great thing to be prepared, but if you need something that could've POSSIBLY been packed away, a small task can become monumental real quick. I tore apart the living room, looking through every box and bag that I thought could possibly contain the rogue statement. As I was on my hands and knees, picking through a mountain of old statements and receipts, I came across a golf magazine that had arrived in the mail a week or so prior...I hadn't paid it any mind, after all, I don't golf...As I picked up the magazine, however, I felt strangely compelled to turn it over and look at the address label...It had my address on it, alright, but it damn sure wasn't addressed to me.

It was addressed to "James Knight."

I stopped cold. I suddenly realized that I wasn't alone. I sat back, papers and things and stuff all around me and said aloud "OK, Jim. If you're here, where the Hell is my bank statement?" Just as soon as I had finished asking my question, I felt compelled to stand up. A voice resonated in my head that said "It's somewhere you've already looked."

Somewhere I had already looked....Good start...

I went to the kitchen and rifled through the things on the table. I then swiveled around and went to the metal cabinet that sat by the front door. I opened it and began sifting through it's contents. Stuck in the top corner of the top shelf of this cabinet was a bank statement. I opened it, checked the date and found that it was, indeed, the statement that I needed so badly. It HAD been somewhere that I had already looked. In addition, it was somewhere that it shouldn't have been. The fact is, though, it was there...Just like Jim said it would be, it was there.

I suddenly felt very calm. I knew that there were more than earthly forces working on the behalf of my wife and I to secure the house that we wanted. I immediately realized that there was no reason to worry about ANYTHING regarding the purchase from here on out...We had all the help we could need...We had, at the very least, my uncle Jim watching over us, ready to lend a spectral hand when necessary. I figure that, more than anything, he wanted a new address to visit from time to time. Either way, I was profusely grateful. I thanked Jim for his help and asked him if he could help me clean up the mess I had made initially looking for the document. I received no reply to THAT question...

After all, housecleaning was never Jim's strong suit.

postscript...Everyone including our mortgage broker, both realtors, the homeowner and even the title company representative expressed their surprise that this particular transaction process went so smooth. "possibly the best real estate transaction ever," was one of the phrases said during our closing. I was happy to be a part of such a transaction, all the while secure in the knowledge that such success was pre-ordained. We did, indeed, have a little "help from the beyond."

Labels: 'de paranormal, me roots, spooky shit