Evie - Paranormal Junkie

I am not a practicing psychic. Rather, I am a paranormal and psychic junkie. I am woman... so it is I likely I have a sense of intuition which really is not so uncommon. I have learned to pay attention and trust in my gut reactions and ... tiny wee voice I hear sometimes.

I have a long time interest in the paranormal. I think I am not alone in that this interest began in childhood. Non-ordinary experiences have a habit of doing this, don't you think? Unexplainable experiences tend to create questions. Any answers are accompanied with more and more questions. Really, I don't understand why more people don't have interest in the mysterious. Fear of the unknown is a normal... but when you discover clues to understand all the 'what's up' on planet earth ... the fear lessens with each understanding. It is an interest that keeps growing and evolving.... pushing me onto paths that sometimes astound ... even me.

Why the paranormal?

40+ years ago, my Father dies, unexpectedly, when I am 11 years old and since this is my clearest childhood memory, my mini biography begins here.

At 11 years old I became interested in Death after watching my father close his eyes and die. He smiled just before he died... I did not understand that smile...

(Hmmmmm I still don't ) His habit was not to smile... we are all in the hallway by the front door; Mother and six children age 6-15, lined up neatly, in a row, standing aside to make room for the paramedics and stretcher to pass by. Father's eyes scanned down the row at his family. When his eyes met mine, I saw a sparkle there that I had never seen before and to my surprise, he broadly smiled. He smiled at me. He smiled and then closed his eyes and he died. I have never forgotten that moment, that smile. He smiled at me. Me? Why me? Oddly, it felt like his scan was searching for me specifically. Why did he do that? He knew he was going... this was a goodbye and he smiled. Was he happy to go? Did he know that I wasn't going to miss him?

For Mother, His death wasn't altogether unexpected. He had spoken to Mother about an experience he had about a month or so before he died. He woke in the night and there was a lady, dressed in a black gown, standing at the foot of his bed. At first he thought it was Mother, but he soon noted that she was still asleep in the bed. The lady in black turned and left the room, Father got up, sure then this was My older sister and followed her. However, the lady was not anywhere; sister was found to be sleeping as well. Mother did not like this at all; this lady in Black, visiting in the night, was an Angel of Death.

In the year following his death, Mother spoke several times about being blessed with visitations from Father. I was so worried, did he see me celebrate that afternoon on the day he died? Although I couldn't see him it haunted me that he could come back. Oddly, the last she saw him, he said to her, he wouldn't be able to come back again. It wasn't permitted. I breathed a sigh of relief. His parting smile that never made sense to me, the alleged and timely appearance of an 'angel of death' and brief returns from the other side of death planted seeds of never ending curiosity and wonder.

At age 27, I suffered the loss of my Terry 27 years ago.........

A Wish....

A month after Terry drowned, my son came bouncing into my room, he jumped on my bed waking me. “Mommy… mommy wake up.” Normally he would let me sleep if he woke before me. He gently shook me. “Mommy, I need to tell you something.” He was excited. Eager to be heard. “He is not mad at me!”

“Hmmm,” I am not quite awake. “What do you need, honey?” “I need to talk to you,” he insisted. “Terry was here… Terry was here last night”. “Oh that’s nice,” I said. “I wish I could have a dream about Terry too.”

“NO!” He insisted, “It was not a dream! He kissed me goodnight.” My son's smile was grand. I was wide-awake. I sat up. “Mommy, I saw him really really really.” He was speaking quickly. “He talked to me and he kissed me goodnight.”

I did not know what to say, so I said a stupid thing, “How did he get there? Did he walk through the wall, or what?” He gave me an astonished look; “NO… nobody can do that!” He was shaking his head, clearly puzzled at my response. “ Mommy…I am not kidding, ”

Okay, honey… I believe you, tell me what happened.” He had my full attention. “He just … was here.” I could see his little brain ticking trying to come up with how it was that Terry had entered his room…. the boy shrugged and said... “He showed up…. That’s all I know.

My heart started to beat rapidly, “Why didn’t you come and get me?” “I didn’t think of it. Terry said, ‘go to sleep now’ and I did.” He was proud that he was obedient.

I felt eerie. Sensing that Terry was near, or thinking I had heard him, was different from an actual visible appearance. “Weren’t you scared?” I think I would have been. “Only at first,” He said. “I thought he was going to be mad at me, but he wasn’t.”

“I know Terry is not mad at you!” He still felt responsible…. (Heavy sigh) “He said that he was sorry.”

“For dying on us?” What else was there to be sorry for…? “No!” He was annoyed at my interruptions. “He apologized for swearing.” “Swearing?” I raised my eyebrows. I had not heard this before.

“Yah,” he hesitated, as though he did not want to tell on Terry. “Can I say it?” I smiled at him, he was the cutest… little boy. “Yes, you may say it.” I wanted to hear this; I probably needed to hear this.

He said, “Oh! …. nuts!” Even with permission, he blushed at the swearing. My son mimicked not only Terry’s voice, but also the frustration of the continual problems. This was the third breakdown in two days. “Oh honey, He wasn’t mad at you … He was mad at the boat”

“No!”, he said somewhat snapping at me. Then he reminded me “You weren’t there…. I was…. Oh, Mommy… I dropped the paddle and then he swore.”

Ah… I understood. I did need to hear this. How else would I be able to help him through his grief if I didn’t know what he was thinking… He had accepted that it was not his fault he could not find the rope to throw him. This oar issue would be harder.

“I think Terry was swearing … at himself … not at you, but because of ALL the troubles with the boat, not because you dropped the paddle. I know it looks like that, but there were many problems for him to feel frustrated about.”

“It is not your fault, even if you dropped the oar. He did not die because of that… He died because he dove into water that was too cold. It shocked him and he could not swim. It is not your fault that he drowned. No one is to blame… no one.” Except for Terry himself, I thought. “He died because he was not wearing a life jacket….”

I was thinking about the accident and how it could have been prevented. There were many ‘If only’s.’ I shed a tear, maybe two. He put his arms around my neck, gently rubbing my back. All this boy ever wanted for me was to be happy. “It is going to be okay. Do not worry about him, he is just in a different place.”

“Did he say that?” I asked. My son nodded. “He is fine Mom… He said he was all right”

I believed him, this was not from his imagination, and it was not a dream…. “Did he say anything about me?” I was hoping there was a message, for me.

“Yeah… he asked me to be good for you.” His smile was brilliant, “I promised I would be.” He added, “I will listen to you, just like he asked, you wait and see….”

He had been very well behaved since the accident. Sometimes I even thought that I had a different child, altogether. He no longer resisted my having authority over him. He did what I asked, without arguing, that was so unlike him. I think he did not want to see me be unhappy, and there nothing he could do to change things, except be very good. Now he was often quiet, calm as though drugged. Spacey, like me? He could watch an entire movie without becoming restless and fidgety. I knew that we were still in shock over Terry’s sudden death. I noticed he began to bite his nails…

“Is that all Terry said?” I asked.

“Yeah…. That is all he said.” He was stretching his body, “I’m hungry now. Can I go and get some cereal?” I smiled at him, nodded yes and we both got up. He went to the kitchen; I went to the washroom. Normally I would have crawled back into bed, instead I joined my son at the kitchen table. My body was feeling sore from lying around so much.

I felt guilty that I was not doing enough for my son. He was only nine and I was supposed to be taking care of him, but lately he had been taking care of me.

“Are you going to stay up?” he eagerly asked me when I came into the kitchen.

“Yes. I am,” I said. “I might even have a bowl of cereal as well…” I felt hunger too. It had been a while since I ate, with an appetite. I had two bowls.

“Can you take me to the beach?” He asked. “I would like to go swimming… …mom? I didn’t want to say no. I did not like leaving the house. It was hard to be in the world, watching everybody’s life go on while mine had stopped. Everything bothered me. People going here and there, some laughing, and lovers walking hand in hand. Couples with children…. It all bugged me. It felt safer here at home. I could get lost in the past, instead of the grocery store. I spaced out driving, going in circles, and missing the same turn over and over again. Like an idiot.

“The water isn’t cold anymore…. Please mom… I’m not going to drown.” That was a reality check for sure… It would be wrong to be over protective, like falling off a bike; you have to get back on… My son wanted to swim. This was a good sign.

“Well…. Mom are you ever going to take me to the beach, again?” He said his hands on his hips. He was so cute, so determined. He was right, we both needed to get out of the house. It was not fair to my son. I had to do better. I had to stop this grieving.

“Yes, I will take you to the beach, this afternoon, Ok. After lunch … I promise.” I said, as he was choking me with a hug. “I’ll bring a book, you can stay as long as you like, ok.” “Thanks Mom!” he shouts as he runs off to his room to get dressed for the day. ‘Thanks Terry,’ I said, to myself, as I watched my son running, behaving like himself, again. “Thanks Terry!” I say all around the room, just in case he is there.

Although I am disappointed that Terry did not present himself to me my heart knew that my son was the one who needed the visit. Knowing that Terry was not angry made the biggest difference in his world, and I was so grateful for that. I did not have guilt. Just sorrow and emptiness. I lay with his wool jacket; it smelt of him and I prayed earnestly for Terry to cross the veil and visit me. I would not be afraid. My son said Terry kissed him goodnight. I wanted that too!!! I wanted to say goodbye, but more than that I needed to hear him say he loved me, still. Of course, I wish that Terry comes to see me too ....who wouldn't? He'd come if he knew I wouldn't be scared. Right?

A week after My son had a visit with Terry's spirit I thought I was going to be fortunate as well. I was just drifting off to sleep, when I heard a shuffling noise as though someone was coming into my bedroom. I knew it wasn't my son, and I was not afraid. I was not scared, at all. I had been wishing and waiting for this and was prepared. I sat up, looked around but saw nothing, still there was an overwhelming feeling that I was not alone. “Terry?” I said aloud. Nothing. I looked into the mirror, which hung over the dresser, beside the bed. However, I did not see myself there. I saw a little girl instead. I had no time to react to that image in the mirror, that oddity, for also reflected there was another image, a dark shadow hovering over the girl…. This was NOT Terry.

Instantly, I was afraid. Indeed. I was ready to jump out of my bed and flee from the bedroom, but no sooner did I have that thought and I felt slammed hard down onto the bed, and held there, by unseen forces. I was unable to move, all four limbs were pinned to the bed. I was unable to scream; invisible hands covered my mouth. I could not breath. Was was holding my breath? I fought to struggle against this force, it felt like there was an earthquake, not in my room, just my bed and I was unable to defend myself. I was paralyzed with more than fear. It was not Terry. This was evil. I am being attacked by the devil. Two minutes? Five minutes? Ten minutes? I am not sure how long this went on, before I felt able to move.

I jumped out of my bed, and flung on the light. I was alone. The bedroom looked normal. It did not make sense that after that harsh struggle the by ed was barely mussed up at all but more important I thought of the boy in his bedroom at the other end of the hall. I was afraid he was in trouble too. I heard no noise, but at this point, that did not matter. I hadn’t been able to scream out for help either! He was fast asleep and I let out a sigh of relief. I wandered through the house turning on all the lights. I sat upright in a chair…rocking myself (It was not a rocking chair) and I remained alert and awake the rest of the night. I did not watch TV, read or turn on the radio. I sat there….just rocking. Not understanding …. a thing.

Because I didn't know what was happening at the time, this was the onset of my secret periodic and very horrifying 'Sleep Paralysis' episodes. Secretly, because I feared I was either going looney, or the devil himself was trying to get to me. I would have rather died than admit to either of those. Curiosity and wonder, instantly shifted aside as fear entered my mind ... Of the unbelievable kind.

Six years later I unexpectedly received a message from Terry, via a MARY MALONE a Medium/psychic 'extraordinare.' I had the opportunity to have a half hour session with Mary, after I saw an advertisement for a psychic visiting in Canada all the way from Ireland. I had long given up on receiving any messages or communication from my Terry. I went to see Mary for the normal reasons we are attracted to seeing a psychic. You know, find out my fortune... will I find true love again ... etc etc. (I had to sneak out to have this session, It's against my mothers religion to go to fortunetellers) The reading I received was incredibly life altering for me. I will never forget meeting Mary Malone. I have since been searching for another psychic as authentic as she was and thus began on my path as a 'Psychic Junkie.' Twenty years later, I googled her name and found "anybodythere"

A year after meeting Mary, I was fortunate to experience being in the presence of a family member who was terminally ill. Probably because of the 'message from beyond' from Mary, I was not nervous to be there. This journey towards his dying opened my eyes to spirit and angel energy. I witnessed incredible spiritual energy and experienced extraordinary events that gave insight about the world beyond. I heard about indescribable beauty, heavenly music, mansions. I understood without a doubt that angels and deceased relatives and friends visited in the days before he passed. This not only gave credibility to my beliefs but more importantly I was moved me into being able to stand in the face of death, without fear. What a gift!

I have warm/healing hands and developed an interest/expertise in Relaxation Massage/reflexology and Aromatherapy. I had a special passion for pregnant ladies and became a Douala. Emotional support for Mother, father and any significant others during labor and childbirth were experiences I shall never forget. OH MY! I was present during nine births ... Wow wow wow! Attending during the miracle of birth is highly magical. Heaven and earth > mingling together in one place! What a feeling... what a rush! An incredible and celebratory feeling. I really thought that I would not experience this spiritual high unless in the delivery room. I was wrong...

A few months before my older brother fell ill with a terminal illness (5 years ago - brain cancer) I had an indication, a feeling, (similar to hearing soft voices whispering, but I don't want to say ... hearing voices) that someone was going to be ill. This feeling was not foreboding, at all. Rather it was a kind and gentle warning... preparing me ... and the house that sickness would become it's theme.

He was ill for a year and a half... the first year we did everything we could think of to cure his cancer; surgeries, radiation treatments, chemotherapy poisoning and herbal teas that tasted like crap. The last six months we accepted that his journey here was ending and he was 'going home.'

Once we surrendered, it was a remarkable journey and there were many transcendental and spiritual experiences... on his way. We did this without fear... What a gift it was to be a part of his experience. We allowed him to stay home and die with his family, especially his teenage children near him.

After he died we kept him with us for 18 hours and held the wake at home, like in the old days, instead of a funeral home. We experienced so many magical moments that his death became a celebration' extraordinare.' Heaven and earth joyfully mingling. Spending time with and caring for a terminally ill loved one is a lasting gift.

I arrived at anybodythere hoping to find Mary Malone, but found Steve and Helen/Akasha building this website instead. This is my second home....