I will be there for you I have taken your hand already my love in fact I have never let go and we are going right where we need to!
Scott, April 1996
Channeled Writing
Even as the weeks passed and it became increasingly clear that death had indeed not brought an end to my relationship with Scott, the mystery only thickened. What exactly was going on here? I’d heard of “mixed relationships,” but this was ridiculous! My rational skepticism left no stone unturned, reminding me at every opportunity that I could be weaving a intricate web of wishful thinking. With no real guidance available, or provable assurances that I was on the right path, all I could do was resolve to stay open, and follow my heart. And though the signs kept on coming, too frequent, loud and clear, and diverse to ignore, each seemed to raise still more questions without answers.
If the relationship remained vital and ongoing, what dynamics were at play? In a telephone conversation a couple of weeks after Scott’s death, Laura casually mentioned in passing a fragment of a dream experienced by her sister Michele that seemed to me a tantalizing clue. “It was kind of weird,” she said. “I guess that’s why she didn’t tell you about it. You were asleep in your bed, and Scott was this kind of ghost wandering around the room. While you were sleeping, his spirit was just hanging out there in the bedroom, sitting in the rocking chair, walking around, passing through walls, watching over you. You know, just hanging out.”
Going on to tell me about Michele’s extraordinary psychic abilities as a child, she said that her sister had wrestled with the question of whether or not to tell me about the dream. Finally she had not, and Laura had mentioned the vision only in passing. Nevertheless, the graphic image both thrilled and disturbed me, awakening my curiosity about the reality of the spirit. I had been lost in my own pain, but suddenly found myself burning with curiosity about what life was now like for him. My heart and my mind stirred with unanswered questions. Why was he still hanging around the bedroom, or me for that matter? Was I somehow keeping him from attending to more important business? Was he restless or at peace? Did he ever need to sleep? Did he still perceive time as an endless succession of days and nights? Was his experience boring or exciting? How did his new state of being feel to him? Did he miss the hardness of walls?
Answers to these questions eluded me, but I felt their power in the asking. I had begun to find a place within me to carry my love for this man, still burning brilliantly. A bond of love that survives death, I began to understand, must be a sacred one. Fully realizing that the experience of being “on the other side” might not be mine to know, I nevertheless longed to share Scott’s experience and to be with him. His death had not changed that. I sensed that my juvenile questions probably widely missed the mark on his current reality, one now completely beyond my grasp, but I had to ask them. This was no mere academic pursuit. Scott had taken my heart with him, and I could not rest until I found him.
Later, another experience had an unexpected and important impact upon me. I finally watched the video of the movie Ghost that had been loaned to me by a friend several weeks before, shortly after Scott’s death. He’d inquired if I had seen it, and smiled and put it in my hands when I told him I hadn’t, saying “Why don’t you take it with you? I think you might like it.” The tape had subsequently sat on a shelf gathering dust. If I thought about it at all, I probably thought “I don’t need to see any hokey Whoopie Goldberg movie about ghosts.” My heart heavy, it just didn’t seem appropriate to my situation.
When I finally sat down to watch the film, though, I found it a powerful experience. The graphic images of the spirit stuck in the physical realm and desperately trying to break through, played by Patrick Swayze, stuck in my mind. The victim of a murder, Swayze’s character was fully conscious and present even though in spirit, and painfully aware of the anguish of the loved one he’d left behind. Somehow left to wander among the physical world but yet invisible to nearly everybody, he burned with desire to communicate with her, to heal her, to at last bring her a sense of peace. The very first words that had come through in a channeling from Scott in a moment flush with pure power, I just want to touch you so bad, came vividly to mind.
Agonized by his invisibility to the object of his affection, still in the physical, and increasingly frustrated by his total inability to communicate, he dedicated himself to the task of breaking through to her for purposes of healing. Finally, through sheer force of will and the spiritual coercion of a psychic played by Whoopie Goldberg, contact was made. And the communication that resulted healed them both, helping to finally set them each free. In true Hollywood fashion, this troublesome drama was finally neatly resolved in a happy ending.
Nevertheless, the images in the film affected me deeply, hitting with such power that I stopped the movie part-way through to sit down at the computer and sort out some of my feelings. Did the plot of this film bear any resemblance to the reality I was experiencing? Were Dee’s mystic abilities, like Whoopie’s in the movie, a “bridge to span the gap?” Dee had told me that Scott had been frustrated by my pain and his inability to reach me or to comfort me, but somehow the dramatization in the movie vividly brought her words to life. Even as my mind raced with questions, something within me was opening. Without my being fully aware of it, I had been provided with another key. As usual, I began writing to Scott.
That night, however, he wrote me back.
Stumble It!
