ED ARRIVED - WE’RE PRETTY SURE HE’S CONTENTED
To someone familiar with the nuances of the paranormal, someone who believes that the departing soul "crosses over," to that other dimension we refer to as heaven, the revelation that my father sent some reminders to us, following his recent death, isn’t front page news. While we like to think our family members do things in a big, or special way, truth is the signs we received that Ed had passed-on, were wonderful to experience but just not the "oomph" and flickering lights, paranormal researchers are going to get excited about. Afterall, Ed didn’t pass this mortal coil to prove a point, or to make a big production of entry into the hereafter to benefit psychic research. It was pleasant, these few signs, enough, in a soft low key manner, to give us a feeling of completion of this cycle of life and death, and validate that there are some mysteries of this life and death thing we need to be open minded about.
As it happened with my mother Merle, and father-in-law Norm, we had many signs in advance that a crisis was imminent. Several weeks before Merle had a major stroke I began to have serious flashbacks to our old hometown, Burlington, and people I hadn’t thought about in decades. While I’m an unrelenting daydreamer, known as incorrigible even back in my school days, this isn’t uncommon. It was all centering around Merle. This isn’t particularly psychic on its own but in concert with many other events that eventually led to my mother having a major stroke, and a heart attack, following unanticipated surgery within several weeks. As we have long subscribed to the theory that the spirit does cross over to a new realm, and communication is not impossible, every now and again leading up to the event, I confess having asked some of my friends and family, floating weightlessly on the other side, if there was anything about Merle I should have a heads-up about. Just more visions of Merle but there was something undefinable at the time, lurking in the old subconscious that seemed to warn about a threat to her health.
She survived. The reminiscences faded. She pushed past the grave illness although she had poor quality of life ever-after, disabled and residing in a nursing home for quite a number of years. Just prior to her death I began having the same intrusions upon my normally mundane daydreams. I once again asked the other side if there was something I needed to know about Merle. Well, they don’t answer quite like that......no cell phone range here! When we got the call from the home that May morning in 2008, I knew from the first ring that my mother was deceased. Not still alive. While the attendant felt she was still breathing, I knew without question she had passed because of the sensation of peace I felt at that particular moment. Suzanne, my ever-thoughtful wife, tried to hurry us all out of the house that morning to be at Merle’s bedside. I told her it was too late but that this is what Merle had wished anyway. She still didn’t believe me. When we arrived at the home, my father was sitting by the top of her bed, with a very serene look on his face, and after a few moments told us that she had passed away even before he arrived, and he had only been about four blocks away.
When Suzanne’s father passed away, Andrew, Robert and I were sitting on our front deck, while she remained at his bedside, at the hospital, as his heart began to fail. With nary a whisper of wind, we heard the tinkle of glass from the wind chimes hanging over the railing. There was no other explanation at the time. I told the boys, "Your grandfather has just passed over." I felt the same feeling of peace I’d experienced before with the deaths of family members and close friends, and it was no surprise what-so-ever when the phone rang moments later, and it was of course, Suzanne, to tell us Norm had just died. What made the windchimes significant for Suzanne, is that these had been sold by the family marina, in Windermere, when they operated it as a family business in the 1960's and 70's, and there were always windchimes tinkling at the family cottage on Lake Rosseau. Not only was his last action a notification of passing, it was also very appropriate to the memories of cottage times in Muskoka.
When my good friend Dave Brown, of Hamilton, passed away, I knew before Suzanne picked up the phone that Dave had indeed died. I’d had a strange feeling for several days leading up to this and although he had been in hospital, I never thought it was a mortal situation. Suzanne hadn’t told me the whole story from the last time she had talked to Dave. He had insisted on talking to her and not me. He used to get mad at me from time to time, so that was quite understandable. Dave and I were rigorous book collectors and historians, as well as outdoor enthusiasts, and our intertwined lives were always scholarly and always fun.....but we could argue until sunrise about certain points of fact and fiction. Dave had an aura that would almost knock you over. He was intense all his life. If any one was going to communicate from the other side it was going to be David Brown. So I started talking to him the moment I heard he had died, and truth is, I’ve never stopped making little comments about my work and home chores. He just doesn’t argue back! He’ll let me know if he’s pissed. Dave used to visit after a wilderness expedition, and he loved to sleep on a couch down in my archives. When I was working on his biography, as he was indeed one of the movers and shakers of the Outdoor Education Program in Ontario, I never once believed that the composition of the text was Dave-free. He had asked me to do the biography in his last two months of life but when I accepted the job it was my assumption he would be a major, real-life partner. I had to go on with the project because I believed in it so much. I can so clearly remember on the night I finally sent off the first shipment of finished books to his colleagues in Hamilton, when coming from those familiar archives he loved so much, I felt his hand on my shoulder as if he was within arm’s length. I said, "Hello Dave.....did we do a good job?" Well, the only response I got, was actually what I didn’t get, that made me believe we had indeed fulfilled a promise to each other. Dave could have been furious with me for some of the revealing content I felt compelled to include, and I’m pretty sure that instead of a pat on the back, I’d have received a hardy kick in the arse.
For years now I’ve been asking Dave’s help to find things around the homestead here, books, papers, documents that have disappeared, and while nothing is ever immediate with the other side upon request, inadvertently and mysteriously, I’ll stumble upon what I need maybe even weeks after they were sought-out. No, it’s not really Twilight Zone material. My own experiences with this validation of those who have crossed over, inspired by the work of Medium John Edward, isn’t all that exciting or remarkable over the long haul. In fact it doesn’t enter into it anymore that we may be talking to dead people. We’re just big believers in keeping our options open and being keen to things, possibly signs, forewarning, reminding, and contenting, that admittedly seem tiny and coincidental to most.....but add up to us.
Just before Ed passed away, I asked those who have crossed to look out for the dear old fellow, and that most definitely included a request to Dave and Merle, and others, to make sure he was comforted in those abstract hours in another dimension. "Ted, you’re nuts, plain and simple," offer my critics. Those who believe, or are open to possibility, confess they’ve done exactly the same.
With my own father, I began having similar flashbacks about our early days in Burlington, Ontario, about two weeks before his mid-December collapse in his Bracebridge apartment. After about a week of remembering events and gad-about with my parents back in my youth, I confess to wondering aloud to my wife what was coming next. Ed was fine and looking forward to Christmas....particularly the traditional shopping days with our sons, Andrew and Robert, that date back to when they were five or six years old. Even as 20 somethings they still made their dates with grandpa for the Christmas adventure that would involve a dinner out and a long day of shopping. They boys wouldn’t miss spending this time with Ed.
On the night of a huge snowstorm just prior to the middle of December, son Andrew and his friend James had the misfortune to be stuck on Highway II, in Bracebridge, the result of an accident further along the windswept stretch. They were coming home from a work assignment at a local theatre, and had been told by police the Highway was clear. Not so. But then almost all the roads that night were clogged and blowing over further. It was a disaster. When they phoneed us well after midnight, and told us they could be there indefinitely, we were understandably concerned that they might freeze to death. Shortly after talking with Andrew we phone Ed to tell him of the situation, and asked if it would be all right if the boys, when they got themselves free of the traffic tie-up, could stay at his River Road apartment. He was eager to help and said he would stay up a while to get updates. Andrew phoned him from the car as well, and everything was in order. They had food and extra clothing to don if their ordeal was to last longer. They did actually get free within several hours but could not re-enter the cut-offs back into Bracebridge. Suzanne had to phone Ed later that morning, (no he hadn’t been up all night) to explain how Andrew had made it safely back home, and that I wouldn’t be able to make it in that morning for our usual coffee date. He sounded fine and understood that the storm was even going to keep him in that Friday.
The unraveling for Ed had begun. I just didn’t know how badly. While I had good intentions to make it to Bracebridge that following Saturday, our trip from Gravenhurst ended when we looped back along a precarious snow-bound stretch of Winhara Road, very narrowly surviving the return trip without need of a wrecker. On District Road 4 there was a sea of mired-down trucks and there was no way of passing the carnage into downtown Bracebridge, so we doubled back home.
When we got back to Gravenhurst, I insisted on a visiting a local book shop. As an avid book buyer I absolutely have to seek out evasive titles at least three times a week or I’ll vaporize. Seeing as I had been blocked from my favorite Bracebridge shops, my bibliophile’s mission was to make a significant find right at home. And I did. The book that almost fell off the shelf into my hands, (highly visible even without a dustjacket) was the hardcover, illustrated book "The Ships of Canada’s Naval Forces 1910-1985," a book I had once given my dad because his ship, the "Coaticook", the River Class Frigate he served on, was photographed in the text. I had to have this book for my own collection. I intended to get Ed to sign the page of the photograph. I was always so proud of his naval service, and loved to hear him tell stories about those precarious days on the high seas dodging U-Boats. What I didn’t know, or maybe I should have, if I’m in-touch with the other side as I think, was that Ed was in the first stages of a stroke, one that was minor enough yet debilitating, to give him the next three days of torturous struggle for help. Was it a sign that I missed. For sure I had many occasions since that snowstorm to call him, to find out if his power was on but when Suzanne had called the day before, he was in good spirits and presumably reasonable physical condition.
One of the strangest situations was that Tuesday morning’s visit for our usual coffee. For the first time in months, eldest son Andrew had come as well. Work had been demanding a lot of time this fall for Andrew, and it was going to be a nice visit with grandpa with our boys. The snow removal effort was slow and there was no place to park. I let the boys off in Bracebridge at the local thrift shop, and I told them it might be awhile before I’d join them, as snow removal had killed most of the mainstreet parking. I was also on empty. As close as you can get without actually walking. No fuel. After driving around the block for about ten minutes, Andrew finally came out, and I told him I was on gas vapors at that point, and to hurry up his brother. No go! Robert was still at the cash register. I couldn’t stop. Andrew phoned to tell him we were heading out District 4 to the gas station I knew would be accessible in a pinch. Feeling frustrated at the weather’s inconvenient dumping of snow on Muskoka, I asked Andrew to phone his grandfather, to see if I’d even be able to park at his apartment building. Just before we arrived at the pumps he informed me his first call had been unanswered. I asked him to please keep calling because if he didn’t answer, and I could not be assured of parking at his building, there was no way I was going to stop. We’d have a coffee another day. After filling up the tank, and heading out the driveway of the station, Andrew told me that he had talked to Grandpa, and that he had asked us for help, as he couldn’t seem to get out of bed. I thought about it for several seconds, then asked him to call 9-1-1 for medical assistance at the apartment. He suggested this might be nothing serious and that we should wait to see for ourselves what Grandpa was experiencing. I knew that for a stubborn old sailor, that to admit he was in need of help to get up, it was serious enough to warrant a medical response. I asked Andrew again to call the emergency number. We arrived at the apartment only seconds ahead of the ambulance, and because Andrew had his apartment keys, as he had once lived with Ed while at school, we were able to access Ed in mere minutes. We found him inside the door, slumped on a small sofa, looking very week and distressed. If Andrew had not been with us that morning, it would have taken quite a bit longer to find the landlord and the pass keys. As it was his heart rate was pretty rough and it was obvious to us he had experienced a recent stroke. We would find out later that he had experienced his first bout on Saturday morning at about the time I open that book, and poured myself into the great stories he had spun about the Frigate Coaticook. Coincidences. On the surface, with no thread between them, yes, they were all convenient coincidences. To those who believe in such things, there was a little more attached. Maybe there was providence to it all, a forewarning. A subtle tweak of fate.
From the beginning or his hospital ordeal, which lasted more than a month, it didn’t matter whether the medical staff admitted his illness was mortal, I knew it was inevitable. Not simply because I read through the up-beat reports, or expected tests would reveal a treatable condition but because the feeling from all the myriad recollections and feelings ,.....of ease from whatever paranormal factors were at play, if indeed they were, suggested to me Ed was on the brink of a fabulous adventure on the other side.....and I knew how pleased he would be to see his wife again because despite our best intents, we could not stave off his loneliness during that past year and a half.
When on the Tuesday before his death, I saw in his face a resolve to leave his pained body, a resignation in his hand grip to his son that he was truly ready to go, I had no reservation whatsoever directing a new protocol of comfort medication, to ease his suffering. While I had resisted this final protocol over the month, it was only then that Ed gave me clear instruction without a word being spoken that it was time to say our farewells. On the day of his death, I held his hand and asked Merle to help him cross over. I watched him raise his arms, as if to clutch something but at that time there was no real conscious communication with my father; ....as he was, in my estimation, already hovering over the bed and did not have any mortal way of getting my attention beyond a secure grip of hands. There were a lot of curious vibes at that moment but they didn’t involve me. I was unimportant in this transformation.
Our kind nurse informed me that it was likely he wouldn’t survive through the night. I let her know that when I had to leave, I always made peace with my father during that hospital stay, as it was possible many times that month, he could have succumbed. I had to pick up my wife from her place of employment, and we left it open as to whether we would go back to the hospital right away, or have dinner and relax for a few moments. The spirits knew where we were if required. And it was pretty much up to that dimension of life, as the medical options had run their course.
While we were sitting watching the television news, our dog Bosko, a dog dearly loved by Ed Sr., sat up and went to Suzanne’s knee begging for a little cuddle. She doesn’t do this often, I can tell you, and most often Bosko sits at my feet. This night, Suzanne was the friendly knee to drop a chin on. It was a brief preamble to a shiver Suzanne had that even I noticed as a reaction. When she looked at me I said "Do you think that was Ed?" "I’ve never had a shiver like that before.....and look at Bosko,....why now!" she said. The dog had continued to beg more head-patting. Suzanne, still feeling the chill of moments earlier, went into another room to work for a few moments, and no sooner had I settled down to read the paper than the phone rang. It was our wonderfully kind nurse informing me that Ed had passed, quietly, gently, and oh so peacefully to a background of soft music. Why was I not surprised? Relieved that his suffering was over, yes indeed. Had we received a message from Ed as he was passing the places and people he loved on earth, during that departure from the living? This is up to you to decide. We’re very contented this was the case, and we are pretty sure he has comfortably crossed over.
In the week since, particularly tough because it involves the last stages of apartment-takedown and storage of his many keepsake furnishings and bric-a-brac, we have experienced many coincidental signs that Ed wishes us now.....to free ourselves of mourning, and that he, in spirit is okay. From the strange, sudden sniff of a perfume Merle might have used, to forgotten sayings that all of a sudden come to mind without any preamble explanation or initiation. And while nothing replaces the handshakes we shared in those final days, when he dearly wanted to escape to the outside world for a coffee (but was denied because of illness), we all share the belief Ed’s in a good and safe place......and we occasionally remind the good Mr. Brown to check up on Ed to see that he hasn’t borrowed any of his past plumes as a sailor, (kind of a rough tradition) to regale the folks on the other side. A dram of whiskey. I’ll have it for him as a salute to a good and long life with many wonderful memories to cherish. Godspeed.