My x-husband's Grandfather 1990
My Father - Story 1
My Father - Part 2 July 1996
My ex-husband's Grandfather 1990
Pop was a lovely old man, 6'8" tall. I met Pop a number of times, and because I didn't have any grandparents he became my grandfather too.
Pop and I used to talk about God and Heaven because he didn't believe in any of it and I did. He knew he was reaching the end of the life, and I was the only one in the family who wasn't afraid to talk about what would happen next.
When Pop died, he was 83, I believe he felt lost. The day after he died he came to us at Roxby Downs in south Australia. It's about 600kms north of Adelaide, almost in the desert. A very small, new, purpose built town. At this stage our house wasn't blessed and was wide open to supernatural visitors (mainly because I was the only one open to them, I thought, and I didn't want to appear any odder than I was to the church group I was trying to attend, by asking the only minister in town to bless the house).
Pop stayed for three weeks. During that time I talked to him. When I pointed out to my x-husband that his Grandfather was there, he talked to him too.
I didn't find him much of a problem until my son, Matthew, who was then 6, came down the hall one morning and in a funny tone asked my if Pop had really died. (That doesn't sound right, the conversation went like this:
MATT: Mum, did Pop really die?
ME: Yes, Matt, about 3 weeks ago.
MATT: Then why has he been here for so long?
MATT: He's standing at the end of the hall (which he was), he's been here for weeks and he won't speak to me. He just smiles
ME: That's all right, darling. He's just visiting. Now off to school.
Suddenly I had a problem. Matthew had seen Pop, and at 6 years old I thought him too young to be involved in the supernatural. I rang my mother, who was 2000 kilometres away, and she advised me to tell Pop to leave, literally. So I did.
It took 3 days, of talking about heaven and how to get there, before he finally left. After that I had the house blessed.
My father: This could be a story for "Strange but True" and I'll swear on the Bible that everything I say happened (and don't throw the Book at me if you don't believe, I was there!!!)
My father had a difficult life. Most of it he drank too much, and became verbally abusive to his family, me, my brother and my mother. He was mentally disturbed and kept having nervous breakdowns. He was heading for another one when he died suddenly sometime on a Thursday when my mother (who'd stayed with him, looking after him for 37 difficult years) was in Tamworth with a friend. It wasn't something nice to come home to. This happened on December 8, 1995.
After that my mum was alone in a ninety foot long house, 15 kilometres (10 miles) from the nearest big town. In the beginning the isolation didn't bother her, but in the end, Don, my father did. Let's step back to Saturday after Don (I'll always call him that) died. I was playing computer games as I didn't have much to do and the kids were playing with their friends. The house was blessed, and nothing could get in, I thought?
One minute I had my attention on the screen, the next I felt a hard tug on my cord (if you're into Out-of-body experiences you'll know that we are connect, body to spirit, by a silver cord). I was surprised, thought it was imagination, and went back to my computer game. That's when I felt the yank! I couldn't ignore. I stretched out my senses, looking for whoever was trying to reach me and found my father at the top of my driveway, feeling frustrated, because he couldn't get into the yard, let alone the house. (It was a nice feeling to know the place was so well protected!!) I had to go to him, obviously.
The funny thing was as I walked towards the front door I passed by then husband and said "My father wants to speak to me, I'll go to the park," he said "Fine" without a blink. I spent two hours in the local park talking to my father. He was miserable and in shock. He was lost and vulnerable. He remembered the past (which was something he didn't do in real life), but I don't know if he was sorry, just sorry he'd never had much contact with his only grandkids (my doing). He didn't know how to get to heaven ... so I told him. He couldn't get there he said, so I tried to think of some way of sending him.
Can you picture it. Me in the local park, which had no children in it for a change, on a Saturday afternoon. It had been windy in the morning, but it was very still now. When we were kids Don (my father) had built us a twenty foot tall kite, which when tied to the back fence, because it was too windy to get it back onto the ground, had pulled the wooden paling fence out of the ground and carried it to the creek, across a wide field ... So I mentally built him a kite. He had built me so many as a kid, it seems to be the only friendly thing he could do for us. Now here's the bit that fascinates me. When I mentioned the kite the wind would gust, just for a second. So I told Don to get on the kite and fly to heaven. I told him this repeatedly, at least 5 times, and each time I said kite the wind would gust, stronger each time. On the last time he left ... but the story continues ...
Well, a year had passed since Don had died. Matthew, my son, was due to go to High School the following year in New South Wales, but we were in South Australia. He was going to board with his grandmother, but ... As the time passed from Don's death my mother had begun to sound more and more isolated in the big house. When July finally came she began to sound frightened. This was all over the telephone. Then she went from agreeing to have Matt, and Sarah later, staying with her, to saying she wouldn't be able to cope with them. Something was definitely wrong.
Finally I asked her. She told me that Don was around, that he had been worrying her, as well as the next door neighbour and Mum's friends who ran the local shop. I don't know who suggested it first, but she and I agreed that I would move over with the kids so that Matt could start High School as we wanted him to.
Well, we moved. My then husband stayed in Roxby to work. When he returned to Roxby after the move things in the household began to change.
The first thing I noticed was a presence outside my bedroom door. You'd call it a cold spot. My bedroom had been Mum's and she was now sleeping in Dad's (much bigger) room. The first think Mum noticed was that, every morning, her Crucifix, on her rosary, would be turned to face the lamp it hung from. It wasn't swinging free, it was always face outwards on the shade.
The next things was Matt's bedroom door. Matt's room is next to mine. Don could never get intoMum's room because she had a big lock, you know the type you use a padlock on, and she'd lock it each night before bed. Well .. all day long Matt's door would open and close (as in latch and unlatch). If you shut the door, it would open, if you opened it, it would shut.
Now in it's way this is a small thing, but I have two sensitive children, and a mother who was wearing out from things that were happening to her that she still hasn't told me about, so I told Don to leave off and go!
That made no difference, as I expected. (The long and short of it is, that Don always hated me (and no it was not my imagination, he said it often enough when I was a kid) and had sworn blind to my mother that we would never live in HIS HOUSE). Before the situation got any worse I told my motherI was going to have the house blessed. I didn't want my kids frightened, particularly not by someone they were supposed to like. And then there was the fact that I had sent him to heaven on that kite .. so what was going on?
The minister, Dean of the Armidale Anglican Church, came and, after talking to mum and I, he blessed the house, and the block, all nine and a quarter acres of it. I went with him, and could feel Don, or something, being pushed out of his precious house. It wasn't a nice feeling.
Whomever it was, they were gone then. The house was happier in feeling, and so were the residents. We all slept a lot better, including the kids. We have only one small problem, one of our cats had stolen the crucifix. Well I think it was a cat.