“No, I’m tired,” I grumbled.
The hum of Chuck’s CPAP machine steady, so I knew it wasn’t him waking me up. Connor was at school and it wasn’t him, and it was rare for my dad to try and wake me, so it could only be one other thing.
I peeked one eye open to see a man, who looked to be in his late thirties. His jeans were torn and his white tshirt and face had black marks that looked like soot. Then I smelled the smoke. If you’ve ever smelled a house or building fire, you know the smell is different than any other smoky smell. I’d only had a few hours of sleep in the last few nights and I was sleep deprived and grumpy, and a midnight visitor was the last thing I was hoping to entertain.
Most of the time when I have spirit visits they simply want to tell their story, and this night was no different. So I reached over and grabbed my glasses from the nightstand and gave him a gesture to begin.
His name was Gary and he lived in the south. Raised in a conservative home, the Bible was not just used as a guide, it was used as punishment. Gary always had feelings. He said he sensed his grandparents and had been visited by his older brother who tragically died in a motorcycle accident when he was just eighteen. His mom and dad never swayed from their theological beliefs that seeing, hearing, feeling or sensing the other side was only that of the devil’s work and nothing more.
“I knew I should’ve replaced the batteries in the smoke alarm,” Gary shook his head still in disbelief. “I’m just so thankful the kids and my wife were visiting her family for the night. I’m worried they will think I killed myself, though.”
I looked at him, stunned. “Why would they think that?”
“I had been down. Work wasn’t going well and I was getting lazier by the day. I probably wasn’t the greatest son. The greatest father and I know that I wasn’t the greatest husband. The fire, I think started in the basement, but I promise you, I wasn’t responsible.”
I believed him, but I wondered why he hadn’t crossed over. Why was he standing in my bedroom telling me his story? So I told him, as I tell all my visitors, that I wasn’t an ambulance chaser. If I was to meet with his loved ones in the future, I would pass along his story.
He smiled, a knowing smile, and asked me if he could go. He thought he saw his brother in the distance and wanted to meet up with him. I wished him well, but before he left, he said – “Tell my family when you see them that perhaps they’ll listen now.”
I was stumped. What did that mean?
It was a week later that I received a phone call from a lady wanting to make an appointment. She was in North Carolina and had lost her husband in a house fire while she was out of town with her kids. Coincidence? I don’t believe in that. I asked her if her husband’s name by chance might be Gary and I heard her gasp on the other side, and so I knew it was. I shared with her my encounter and ended it with what he asked of me.
“His favorite song,” she exclaimed!. “Starry Starry Night. Our last name is also McLean, but his brother would play the guitar and Gary would sing it. He always choked up when it came on the radio. It was special to him.”
Maybe Gary’s parents won’t understand the connection, but Gary got it. I’m sure that Gary and his brother are entertaining on the Other Side. Maybe we can all learn from just that one phrase of the song because perhaps we all need to listen. TO HEAR THE SONG YOU CAN VISIT HERE.
I believe in YOU!
Believe,
Kristy
www.kristyrobinett.com
Kristy Robinett is an intuitive, life coach and author of several books. She is a mom and wife who loves farmhouses, front porches, iced tea and old cemeteries. Find Kristy at www.kristyrobinett.com.
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