“Oh, my goodness I’m so excited Karen. I hope you get him. Can you? I mean do you always get them? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”
Francine’s excitement and nervousness is common and understandable. We all feel it when we want something badly that is incredibly important to us. Our parent’s love can be one of those things. It can be a game changer in our lifetime to feel that we are deeply loved when they are alive and sometimes we still need reassurance of that love even after a parent has passed. This need for affirmation can mean the difference between self-confidence, self- sabotage or self-criticism.
Well, Francine’s father was not about to disappoint her.
He appeared on my back lawn holding a rake wearing a blue jean buttoned shirt, grey work pants, black rubber boots and a black wristwatch on one hand. I couldn’t see the other hand; it wasn’t there. I looked again, thinking this spirit forgot his other hand somewhere. I waited as sometimes they come into my view slowly bringing pieces of their body in stages. No….this man had one hand. I paused a moment to ask him (in my head) if this was an accident on his part or if he really had lost a hand on earth. He said “No I didn’t lose it. I was born with one hand.” Well now that’s important to know because it will give Francine some wonderful affirmations that this is, indeed, her father.
I had nothing to fear. Arnie (her father’s name) walked into the room, through my glass windows, pulled out his right eyeball and dropped his eyeball into Francine’s glass of water.
I broke out into laughter. I mean the full giggles, tears streaming down my face kind of laughter. Francine’s bewildered face was my cue that it was time to share my experiences with her and to let her know her father was up to the challenge of easing her fears today. Plus, sharing this would allow her to join in on the fun and she could laugh along with me.
I began Francine’s session.
“Francine I understand your father’s name is Arnie.” I said.
Francine’s face broke into a smile; she looked like a little child again. Her stress washed itself out of her eyes. “I can’t believe you said his name! Seriously. Just can’t believe it, Karen.”
“Actually” she added, “it was Arnold. Only us kids could call him Arnie. He wouldn’t let you call him Arnie, Karen. Just me and my sisters.
“Arnold it is.” I replied. I proceeded to relay to Francine what Arnold was wearing including holding his rake. I asked her why he would choose to appear holding a rake today and she replied that the day he passed the last thing she saw him doing was raking his yard.
The rake hit a nerve for her. Her face crumpled into despair, anguish, and sadness all at the same time. Francine told me she felt guilty that he died outside raking as he had apparently asked for help with the job and no one offered. As is often the case, Francine’s grief was compounded by tremendous feelings of guilt. “Maybe if I’d been outside with him, I could’ve helped him. Maybe he wouldn’t have died raking the yard” she told me, sharing her anxiety with me. Of course, that was something she couldn’t possibly have known when he died, so I gently reminded her that there is no need for guilt and that is not what her father wants her to feel when she thinks of him.
As a medium-intuitive, I don’t always know every single detail about your loved ones so I thoroughly enjoy listening to what each client chooses to share with me. I explained that her father told me he had been born with one hand and she confirmed it. She asked me which one was missing. I told her that Arnold showed me his right hand and that he wore a black watch on the left hand.
As she let out a squeal of shock and delight, she brought both of her hands to cover her mouth. “Get out!” she yelled and slapped her leg. “That’s Dad for sure Karen. No mistake about it.”
I shared with Francine how Arnold walked into the room and dropped his eyeball into her glass of water.
Francine laughed, jumped up and out of her chair in disbelief and excitement. She explained that this was a prank that he loved to pull that never failed to get a great reaction out of people. Arnold loved to watch someone’s response to his dropping his glass eye in a glass of water. It was part of his dramatic flair that he enjoyed, a shared joke amongst those who knew him and one that he pulled off on unsuspecting people. He did it to make everyone laugh and come together, as he was doing today for the three of us.
Arnold then let out a fart and strode out of the room through my glass windows, raising the rake in his one hand. Roaring with laughter, Francine explained that her Dad would fart loudly upon exiting a room. He took pride in it; considered it his little inside joke with Francine and those who knew him well. She explained to me it was something he began doing when she was a child. It was his way of leaving an impression and a laugh, of letting her know she was in his inner circle of loved ones.
Arnold’s love for his daughter was alive, well and still humorous.