Seeing Dead People at Funerals

It was in my 20s that I started having to attend funerals and viewings.  That whole death circus thing we do in western society is so odd to me and was to me then.  Well, actually then it was more creepy and morbid and horrendously sad.  Now it's odd.  The first dead person I saw attending his own funeral was a very much loved and respected member of the church family.  Stand-up kind of man, great dad, loving hubby, someone everyone liked and respected.  He died from a terminal illness in middle age, really a hard kind of a loss for family and friends alike because of his dynamic personality and charm.

The viewing was difficult enough.  Emotional energies were off the chart, as was to be expected, and the snarky gossipy stuff going on in people's heads was too!  That's another story for another time, trust me, it's a hoot!  Back to the viewing.  I kept thinking I was seeing a human shape moving through the room, but, being in such a situation, it's really difficult to turn to another person in the line to ask, "Hey, did you just see that dead person moving around the room? Or, was I just imagining things?"  Granted it would probably be the topic of conversation for a while outside the funeral home, but, definitely not the type of thing one says in "polite company" at a viewing.  Long story short, I felt cold breezes in the room, and was really beginning to believe that I was seeing someone moving about like they were visiting with the mourners and the family.   Because the hour was late I paid my respects and left, not wanting to stay longer so I could avoid my inevitable question about the "phantom" I kept seeing to some poor unsuspecting person at the funeral home.

At the funeral the next day, held in the funeral home, there was a very large crowd of people, occupying all the folding chairs and standing respectfully around the room.  The family entered and took their places at the front of the room nearest the casket.  The church organist played beautiful music this man loved in life, his family spoke of his life and their love for him, and, then it happened - the dearly departed walked through the door to the room where the service was being conducted, walked straight down the aisle, kissed his wife on the top of her head, hugged his daughter, patted his sons on their backs, walked over to the casket to stare at his own corpse, shook his head at that sight, turned walked back up the aisle, waved hello to me because I could see him, then left the room and faded away into nothingness.  Just walked out and faded away.  Snap! Just like that!  He paid his farewells to his family and left "POOF!"


It was weird, wonderful, confusing, and fascinating all in one breath.  The first time I had seen a dead person that I knew personally since my sister died all those years before.  Proof positive to me that "we" exist after the demise of the skin suit we put on every day and proof positive that those who die are "whole" the moment after their deaths because this man had been quite ill before he past and the spirit that walked into that room was healthy, robust and full of love and zest for his next role.

Seeing dead people at funerals doesn't always happen for me, but, when it does, it usually teaches me something or provides me with messages about life after death that I needed to learn for my existence in my own skin suit. 

I have more stories about dead people at funerals.  I'll share them with you eventually.  But, for now, this is the most important one.  The very first of many dead people out of the casket and walking around among the living before the funeral ever started.

Okay, teenage years - once over quickly

Okay, here goes, my teenage years - once over quickly.  Being a teenager was utter misery.  Not only did I have breasts and begin menstruating before everyone else of my gender at school, my abilities were getting stronger and stronger.  It was really driving me to distraction, and that's putting it kindly.  Between 8th and 9th grades, I grew to my current adult height - 5'10'' - which made me one of the tallest kids in school.  That's right, one of the tallest kids, not just one of the tallest girls.  In fact, 3 other girl friends and I were, till the 10th grade, the tallest in our grade, even in high school.  Yeah, that didn't bring on any teasing and tormenting at all.  Each one of us confided to the others that it would be sooooo cool to be able to shrink down to the size of a cheerleader and be popular for a change.  That didn't happen either.  Instead, we all grew breasts, got our periods, and in general were a mess till the rest of the girls caught up with us, at least as far as the periods  arriving that is.

The closest I came to sharing my frustrations with my "gifts" with my friends was sitting with a bunch of girls in the womens' restroom at church telling scary stories, ghost stories and trying to levitate one of our group using "Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board" for a chant to encourage that to happen.  When we actually levitated the girl about a foot off the cement floor, an adult stuck her head into the restroom to see what was going on - "CRASH!!!" down she came to the floor in a heartbeat, with a lump on her head to prove she hit the floor hard.  Laughing and giggling we scattered to the winds as best we could so as to avoid any adult questions.  When we talked about it later with one another, one of the girls asked, "Did you all see that man standing there watching us?"  I nearly said "yes" but stopped when another girl said, "Yeah, right, there was a man standing there watching us!  Where was he, in the sink? You have gotta be nuts to believe that!"  But, there was a guy standing there, near the sink, watching everything we were doing and shaking his head in disbelief.  No way in the world was I telling anyone that I could not only see him, but, sometimes, I could hear his thoughts as well.  Nope, not telling a soul.

Ninth and tenth grades were okay, mostly.  Tried my best to fit in with the few friends I had, and pretty much kept my mouth shut about hearing voices of folks not present and all that sort of thing.  Junior and senior years at high school were the absolute worst ever.  I finally was allowed to date, sorta.  Had to have a chaperone for the first 6 dates because my folks thought me so naieve as to "give myself away" to the first boy that would even think about kissing me.  Never had those thoughts, but, they didn't care.  Teenage hormones scared the crap out of them, so, I got to go on chaperoned dates.  Yep, that really made me a laughing stock and put me utterly out of the realm of dating.  When they finally relented because I wasn't being asked on dates, I dated a wonderful fellow who "sorta" accepted the paranormal - ghosts, spirits, and that stuff, not hearing and talking to them.  It was fun, but, frustrating because I could hear relatives of his trying to communicate with him.  Since he didn't want anything to do with that stuff, I got to pretend it wasn't happening.  Hated that part.  Being someone I wasn't just was miserable.  Things didn't get any better the next year either.  In fact, my gifts were being so "pushy" that I began wishing them away every day.  Each time they would rear their heads, I would wish them to go away... till finally they did.  My head was quiet. I didn't sense anyone "lurking about" anywhere, ever.  I was alone in my own skin, in my own world, and, as much as I had thought I would like it, I wasn't so sure I did. 


I finally knew what it was like to not have my "gifts" turned on all the time.  Hmmmm, really quiet, have to really pay attention to what other people say and do and not have anything else to rely on but that input...  Although I wasn't really comfortable without my other input sources, I let my gifts go, hoping they wouldn't ever rear their ugly heads again.  I was tired of having to pretend I didn't see, hear, smell, taste, feel things that no one else was aware of.  It was nice to be able to be "normal", only it wasn't.  But, my desire to be "normal", "regular", "like everyone else" was so strong, I deliberately ignored my gifts whenever they tried to break through the various barriers I had erected to them.  It was an uncomfortable time emotionally for me, but, I perservered because I thought it would be better to be "normal" than "weird".  I was wrong, but, that's a story for another time.

"Did you kow that..."

"Did you know that if you sit really still and quiet your mind will too?" said my Granma S.  She was a peach of a woman.  Since I was always such an inquisitive kid and didn't like to sit too still unless there was something neat to do - listening to "them" for instance - Mom and Dad enlisted her help in trying to get me to be a little less "me" and a little more "what you are supposed to be".  Granma knew I would do anything she asked of me, if I could, so, it was a safe bet, or so my folks thought, to have her ask me to be less "me" and more, mmmmm, "not me".  Well, hard as I tried, my intellectual curiosity and my gift kept getting me all stirred up and in trouble with my parents.  Not a good thing this gift of mine.  I kept trying to shut it off, but, not knowing how it got turned on in the first darned place, it was pretty hard to figure out how to turn it off - even a little bit.

So, on the day Granma asked me if I knew about sitting really still and quiet, I decided to go for broke and ask her if she could tell me where to find the off switch for my gift.  "Granma, if I sit really still and quiet, will the dead people stop talking to me?  Will I not hear the critters every now and then? Do you know how to make that happen?"  Bless that dear soul, she didn't treat me like a nut case, nor did she bat an eye at the questions either.  She just said, "Child, if you are meant to hear and see them you will.  If you aren't you won't.  Your folks just want you to calm it down a bit, that's all."  "But, Granma, I don't know how to!  When Sister told me I'd have this stuff, she didn't tell me how to make it work, just that I'd have it and be able to use it to help people one day.  Do you know how to do that?  Or, don't you!"  (Brave kid, dumb kid, Granma hated sass mouths.)  "Well, I do, but, my way only works for me.  You have to find your own way."  Then she went on to explain to me that the women in her family always had this gift and most of them could not only hear and see, but could smell, taste and even feel the dead and their ailments, etc. (Portents of things to come many years later for me.)  Part of her heritage was American Indian (don't ask which tribe, I don't know for sure) and the heritage she had was from "medicine" and not to be taken lightly or abused or disused.  So,she told me that my "job" was to let my folks think I had given up on "the gift thing" and pretend it wasn't there any more.  That really sucked!  I knew it was like living a lie and said so to Granma.  She told me she hated living a lie too, but, to keep peace with Granpa she had to keep her gift under wraps because while he knew it was real and that she had it, he just didn't like her "using" it because of his affiliation with the Christian Church of America as a Deacon.....   something about the "Devil" and it not being "Good" but "Evil" - after hearing my Granpa disapproved of such things,  I was too crushed to listen too closely. 




As much as my folks wanted me too, I didn't stop hearing voices, or seeing people for the longest, longest time.  I didn't learn to turn my gift off either, nor did I try.  I just learned to sit really quiet and listen in my head to the things going on around me.  Didn't share it with much of anyone either - except Granma once in a while.  It got really lonely in my heart because I knew this was a living lie.

Did you know that if you sit really still and quiet you mind will get that way too?  You can also hear "them" a lot better if you aren't yapping away yourself.  I know this for a fact.  I've tried it.  HeHeHe