Dang it! The tea towels were on the kitchen floor again. I said, “Hi Betty, I love you, now please stop with the tea towels!” My friend of 40 years, who had passed away six months ago, was calling for my attention again.
Betty’s communication started about a month prior, but I didn’t realize it at the time. My dining room light started to turn on in the middle of the night. Although the light was on a remote, the control was tucked away so that my cat Bernie could not accidentally trigger it — yet the light would come on and wake me up. This happened several times in one week. Although I puzzled over the oddity, I didn’t connect the actions with my friend. Then my electronic devices started to act up. My alarm, white noise [maker], meditation music, and reading materials became unreliable, causing both concern and inconvenience.
During meditation, I had an insight that Betty might be trying to connect with me, and immediately memories of our escapades flowed into my mind. I remembered traveling to Fiji with her because of her keen interest in astronomy and Halley’s Comet passing by that year. We arranged to view the comet from ship deck during a cruise. Not soon enough for her, Betty continually left the cabana in the middle of the night and wandered beaches searching the sky. Inevitably I would be awakened from sleep by a security guard returning her to the room, and questioning me as to whether she belonged there. She would become disoriented because of her challenged sense of direction, and would become lost.
During our friendship we talked often about our beliefs, and totally disagreed on our view of death. She believed that when she died, that was it. I believe in life after death and reincarnation. No matter how often we discussed the issue or listened to the other’s perspective, our beliefs didn’t change.
In the last few years of Betty’s life, she began to experience short-term memory loss. Her hearing was poor, and although she owned hearing aids, she refused to wear them. It became challenging to speak with her. Most often the conversation was one-sided, with her talking away incessantly about whatever she thought I was saying, which was usually totally inaccurate. I would have to yell to make myself heard. It was frustrating.
Over the last year of Betty’s life I had stopped trying to see her and instead would greet her in meditation, soul to soul. When she passed, a friend sent me her obituary from the newspaper and that is how I found out she had died.
After Betty passed, I often sent her love during my daily meditations. I would ask her to let me know how she was doing. And I wondered from time to time whether I would hear from her.
Then the dining room light started to act up. My iPad and iPhone became unreliable. While I was on a business trip, my friend Melissa, a gifted medium, sent me a text saying that someone called Betty had contacted her. I called Melissa and learned that Betty wanted to talk to me and had been trying to get my attention. She said she was floating in a space of quiet that was distraction free, and was spending that time healing her mind. Every now and then she looked outside that healing space and tried to connect. When I finished my conversation with Melissa, I started one with Betty. I asked her to leave my devices alone, and promised when I returned home, we would talk. My devices immediately stopped being a problem.
When I returned home, I was tired and needed a couple of days to relax before attempting to connect with Betty. That was when she started throwing my tea towels on the floor. I finally caught on it was Betty urging me to connect with her. Patience was not her strong suit!
I picked up the towels five or six times a day, each time acknowledging her and asking for her patience until I was ready to talk with her. One day in meditation I opened to hear from her and it wasn’t long before I felt her presence. I followed intuitively what floated through my thoughts and spoke with her, about our friendship and our many escapades over the years. I reassured her of my love and felt her love in return. I told her that I would leave the electrical switch turned on at the wall for the dining room light so that she could use it to get my attention in the future, hoping she would leave the towels alone and use the light instead.
My days have resumed their usual pace. The dining room light doesn’t come on but my tea towels keep landing on the floor from time to time. When that happens, I greet my friend, knowing she is peeking into my life and saying hi. I think she’s learned that there is indeed life after death, and our communication certainly has reaffirmed that to me.
Camille is a regular contributor to the Aquarian. She has communicated with animals for over 30 years, with the focus of her gift directed at strengthening communication between the animal and caregiver. As a channeller and Reiki Master, she offers healing sessions and channelled guidance to her human clients.