My Grandad

My Grandad

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I loved both my Grandads dearly, I loved that they were men of few words but the words they did say were worth hearing. I lived in a world of constant chatter that sounded like static, so to spend time with these quiet men was wonderful.

 

They were both strong men with good hearts, I felt a structure about them that was comforting and re-assuring, and they had strong and deep foundations but an open heart…the best combo ever in my opinion.

 

I used to spend many an evening with my Grandad Roy, although to me he was just grandad. He was like a movie star from the 40’s and he really reminded me of David Niven. I was a huge fan of the black and white movie and loved a musical.

 

I just remember it being really nice having him around.

 

One evening I heard my mother on the phone so decided to eaves drop, as I usually did, and I found out that Grandad Roy had died a few years before. I froze as my little brain tried to comprehend this information. I then went back to my room and sobbed.

 

I cried not so much because he was dead, I cried because I realised that my mum didn’t see him, that he was gone from my mums’ life. I felt that was so incredibly sad, that he was no longer part of his family’s life. I loved spending time with him and was sad that Mum couldn’t anymore.

 

Mum heard crying and called up the stairs asking who it was. I froze, what could I tell her, I was only around 6 at the time but had learned already that adults don’t like hearing what doesn’t make sense or they can’t comprehend, it makes them angry. I irritated my family a lot in that way as I often couldn’t explain why I was laughing or crying, so I learnt to hide it well.

 

Also I had a re-occurring dream in my childhood that my mother was a witch and was trying to cook me in her cauldron, when you have a nightmare like that imagine what it is like to wake up and find the witch herself sat on the end of your bed asking what’s wrong….absolutely nothing Mother witch, absolutely nothing.

 

It wasn’t until much later in life that I understood that my Grandfather was a spirit, as a child it was just something that was accepted without question. I was 24 before I understood that my mother was not a dark witch.

 

By the time I was around 8 I no longer spoke with spirits and had almost forgotten. Although I continued to sense spirits I didn’t communicate with them again until I was about 22 and had just had my son. I was living in an old cottage and felt a spirit brush past me, at this point I ran to my bedroom and hid under the covers. It took a few more years before I had the courage to explore this further and this time I had the help of my friends and I truly believe in this awesome and intricate plan of life that sometimes our friends and loved ones have to pass over to be of the greatest help.

 

I often need crowd control the amount of spirit family I have around….It is great….we draw strength from the other side.

 

Lots of love and laughter Michele xxxxxx

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