I’m Not Dead, I’m Different.

I just finished reading a book, “I’m Not Dead, I’m Different.”  It is written by Hollister Rand, who is a medium who communicates with children who have passed.  You may be rolling your eyes, and you may think I am crazy.  That is okay, but you may also have a son sleeping in the next room.  I do not.

So I read.  I read a lot.  I read everything on the subject.  I learn about the world that is unseen.  The other side.  Heaven.  I learn about how our loved ones can communicate with us.  The following paragraph is an excerpt from the book:

I am not the only one who the spirits can use to “appear” in the flesh.  A number of my clients report seeing the ones they love in a crowd, at the mall, or the grocery store.  One mother decided not to chase those physical apparitions after startling more than one stranger with her advances.  Now when she thinks that she sees her son, she says in her mind, “Hi Ryan,  Thanks for letting me know that you’re around.”

SO, I didn’t share this with you just so you can think I have really lost it.  I shared this because I am going to share what happened to me yesterday.  Here is that story:

Yesterday, John and I did go and support the small businesses.  It was a beautiful morning.  We went to Squirrel Hill first.  Jerry’s records.  If you haven’t been there, it is an experience.  John collects records.  LP’s.  We enjoy listening to albums on occasion.  He found one that he had been looking for for a long time.  There are rows and rows of albums.  I have never seen anything like it before.  Out of all the rows and stacks, I stopped, glanced down and saw a purple album.  Yep, purple.  Not the usual black.  It was purple.  I picked it up and in the center it said “Trip  66″   Really?  Two sixes?  Purple and sixes.  I smiled, and of course, bought it.

I was still thinking about Joe , wondering what he was doing in Heaven as we left the store and walked up the street.  When you have a child on the other side, you are constantly wondering what they are doing.  We went to a little pizza shop, Aiello’s.  We ordered and took our seats.

We were nearly finished with our lunch when a family came in.  Mom, carrying a baby and a dad with his young daughter.  The dad and little girl were getting candies out of a gumball machine.  They were standing slightly behind me.  I could hear them laughing as a few candies fell to the floor.  I glanced over my shoulder.  And I saw him.  The dad, wearing a purple sweater.  Dad was a young Mexican man in his early 30′s, and he looked a lot like Joe.  A lot.  He was built like Joe, but what did it for me was his feet.  He was wearing jeans and Nike shoes.  His feet could have been Joe’s.  Spitting image.  Same stance.  If I had to pick Joe’s feet out of a line up, I would have picked this man.  I still have trouble looking at Joe’s shoes.  I’m not sure why.  I guess I can still see him standing in them.  Running, jumping.  Full of life.

The air was sucked out of my lungs.  Tears filled my eyes immediately.  I had to look away.  Too painful.  I could have gotten out of my seat and hugged him.  Never let him go.

I wondered, was Joe sending me these signs today?  The purple album, this man walking in his shoes?  As we left, my eyes still filled with tears, I heard it.  Joe’s song – Use Somebody, by Kings of Leon, was playing on the radio.

“John, do you hear that?” I asked him, choking on my words.  He shook his head, and put his arms around me.

Wow.  I thought about the book that I had just finished reading.  I thought about Joe.  How can I not believe that my boy is never very far away?

 

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  1. Jan Crossen Says:

    Susan, Thanks for sharing your story, I loved it. Four years ago my dad passed. A couple of years ago I was working as a check-out clerk and was bent over the counter. Keeping my head down, I lifted my eyes, as I sensed a customer had come to the register. I noticed his jeans, then his belt, followed by a plaid shirt. I lifted my head to see a handsome, older man, with gray hair, a welcoming smile, and a delightful twinkle in his eyes. He reminded me so much of my dad! When he left the store I followed him to the door and watched him talking with folks he knew in the parking lot. He was wearing tennis shoes, just like my father wore. All of it was so much like my dad. I wanted to rush out and throw my arms around him. I started to tear up… I have since introduced myself to this delightful guy, who gives me hugs whenever he sees me. I send him cards on “Father’s Day,” and he refers to me as “his bonus daughter.” I’ll be reading, “I’m Not Dead, I’m Different.” love to you all, oxox