Remember the movie, The Sixth Sense? Ask my mom. I was that kid. The parallels between that story and mine are eerie except ghosts don’t look like that. Their appearance doesn’t reflect the way of their death. I guess I’d say their appearance reflects the emotions and unfinished business they’re dealing with. Some look very much like themselves while others are mere balls of energy – good energy, confused energy, panic-stricken energy or plain old bad energy.
I hate seeing ghosts. All my life I’ve viewed this ability as a curse, not a gift. It’s awful. Like Sara Wise in Incorporeal, I refuse to pass on messages. Well, let me qualify that. I do pass on messages from deceased family members to living family members. I do not, under any circumstances – with a single exception – pass on messages from anyone else to anyone else. Like Sara, I don’t want a big fat label – certifiable – stuck on my forehead. My husband knows I see ghosts and he accepts it. He’s known about it since the day we met. Thank god he loves me anyway!
The one time I made an exception, things worked out okay. I relented because the situation was dire. Just like Sam Wheat singing ‘I’m Henry the VIII I Am’ to Oda Mae Brown in the movie, Ghost, this particular spirit refused to take no for an answer. He would not leave me alone until I helped him, so I did as he asked.
He came to see me after his funeral and he looked, well, incorporeally beautiful; he was ready to move on. He visited me unexpectedly once more with an important message for a friend. This time I hesitated. I didn’t pass on the message immediately because I knew his friend had experienced a terrible tragedy and I was reluctant to make things worse. A week later, his friend suffered a heart attack. The truth is, I don’t know that passing on the message would have changed the course of events. I don’t know that I could have prevented his heart attack. But my indecision still bothers me.
Mostly I don’t talk to ghosts because once a single ghost gets a foot in the door, man, they descend upon you like white on rice. You never have a moment’s peace. And there’s a lot of nasty stuff floating around out there looking for a place to stick. You don’t want that nasty stuff sticking to you. I’ve seen it firsthand and I don’t want it near me, not no way, not no how.
As Sara says in Incorporeal, most ghosts are long-winded and confused. They speak in riddles. Her ghost, Nathan is an exception. My ghost above was an exception. His voice was clear as a bell.
Now don’t get me started on the haunted house from hell we rented in Utah! Shudder…