Now here’s an event I never thought I’d attend.
It goes against almost everything I was raised to believe. I was taught growing up that mediums and spiritualists were evil, right up there with devil worshippers and Catholics. It was all about the Church versus Evil. Like some Saturday night wrestling match between Fritz Von Erich and “Playboy” Gary Hart.
I’m kind of a skeptic on both sides of the coin. As I’ve gotten older, I have become more agnostic. I still feel there is a higher power out there but I’m not convinced that power is a malevolent God waiting to turn his back on me or strike me down for that one sin too many. Who’s to say that the higher power is not the Native American’s Great Spirits, or Mother Nature, or science? Maybe we’re all wrong. What happens in a few hundred or thousand years when what we believe now is lumped in with Roman or Greek mythology, just another time in history when humans made up legends to explain the unexplainable?
Well, I definitely went off track from talking about last night’s event.
Evelyn is a big fan of Theresa Caputo and has been excited about this show for a couple of months. I was a little out of my comfort zone but was staying open minded. Personally, I think that loved ones who have died before us are still around in some form or another. Either they are a real presence that can’t be explained yet or it’s our memories of them that are triggered by outside stimuli that make us feel they are still close. I’m not sure which it is but I sat in a crowd of about 4000 people and it was an amazing thing to watch.
Theresa walked through the audience speaking to people about things that only they would know. Sure, some people tried too hard at making the things she said match their situations but others seemed truly shocked that she knew about things that were too “out there” for her to know.
There was the couple who planted a tree and set up a memorial bench inscribed with their son’s name on it. She asked about the tree and bench before they mentioned it.
There was the gentleman whose friend was shot but died from complications during another surgery.
She must have talked to 20 or 30 people all over the arena during the 2 hours so I didn’t get the feeling they were “planted” like what is usually reported in movies or news stories regarding mediums.
She didn’t speak to us directly as Evelyn had hoped but I did glean some messages for myself as she spoke to others. Maybe I was looking too hard for something. Maybe I wasn’t.
She spoke to a young woman who had lost her 4th child during birth. The child would have been the woman’s 1st daughter. Before their conversation, Theresa asked her if she had lost a daughter and how that related to the number 4. Theresa went on to tell her that the daughter was doing fine and was with the woman. She also said she was a “girly girl” with dark curly hair and a princess dress. This is actually how I picture our own daughter, Cathryn, with dark hair and being a “girly girl”.
A moment later she asked another woman about butterflies and the woman said she had been seeing them a lot more since her loved one died. This made me think of myself about a year ago when I was constantly seeing butterflies which reminded me of my mother. I even declared 2014 as my personal “Year of the Butterfly”. (http://tgford.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-year-of-butterfly.html)
Was I reaching out for a connection that wasn’t there? Maybe
Were all these people in the audience “plants” or trained actors? Maybe but I don’t think so.
Is Theresa’s gift real? I don’t know.
The one thing I do know is that I left that arena feeling better about myself and with a little more hope that my daughter and parents are keeping an eye on me.
And right now, that’s real enough for me.
While writing this I was listening to " Harbour" from "18" by "Moby"
"Harbour"
(feat. Sinead O'Connor)
the street bears no relief
when everybody's fighting
the street bears no relief
with light so hot and binding
I run the stairs away
and walk into the nighttime
the sadness flows like water
and washes down the heartache
and washes down the heartache
my heart is full
my heart is wide
the saddest song to play
on the strings of my heart
the heat is on its own
the roof seems so inviting
a vantage point is gained
to watch the children fighting
so lead me to the harbour
and float me on the waves
sink me in the ocean
to sleep in a sailor's grave
to sleep in a sailor's grave
my heart is full
my heart is wide
the saddest song to play
on the strings of my heart
my heart is full
my heart is wide, so wide
the saddest song to play
on the strings of my heart
Writer(s): Richard Hall
Copyright: Richard Hall Music Inc..
