Other than pouring my heart and soul into this blog and showering my family with love, I also tackle my grief by communicating with Erik every day. We have our casual chats. We tease each other with playful banter. We discuss how to help various members of the Channeling Erik family. In addition, every night, I’ve been trying to extend loving energy his way. Before, my evenings were spent sobbing over his loss, pleading with him to visit, drowning myself in doubts and despair when he didn’t, and counting the days or years until our reunion. Although I’m sure waves of grief will inundate me from time to time, hopefully, those darkest days are behind me. Now, every night, I visualize myself as an expansive soul with arms that wrap around Erik and draw him to my chest in a warm embrace. As he rests his head against me, I tell him how much I love him and share the countless reasons why.
Lately, my efforts have paid off. Last night, Erik was determined to get my attention. First, at three o’clock in the morning, my husband heard the downdraft vent for the stove whir. He crawled out of bed, stumbled into the kitchen and found that it had indeed risen up from the countertop and turned on by itself.
Soon after Rune’s head hit the pillow after returning to bed, the house alarm sounded. After a thorough inspection, no window or door was ajar and no error indicator lights were on to suggest a cause.
Last, but certainly not least, at around 3:30 A.M., while I was still trying to fall asleep after all of the commotion, I heard songs playing from my clock radio. So what, you ask? Well, it wasn’t on. I have a very reliable internal alarm clock, so I never use my bedside one.
Here’s the weird part: since Erik’s death, I have often heard sounds coming from somewhere around my nightstand. Some sound like music from the 40s. Some sound like old-fashioned radio commentators with their stilted intonation. Sometimes, I hear what sounds like several broadcasts airing at once. They’re not very loud, but they are undoubtedly real and not a part of my imagination. All these months, I figured I was just picking up stray radio waves that had been wandering around lost in the cosmos for decades. For reasons that still escape me, I never gave this phenomenon much thought.
Because I was particularly alert after the recent racket from the downdraft vent and alarm, I decided to try to decipher these sounds more clearly. What I heard were two songs with repeating lyrics. The first song kept repeating “I ‘m just a rebel soul,” and the next song kept repeating, “I’m a searching soul.” I turned on my clock radio to make sure it wasn’t coming from that, and sure enough, not only did I verify that my radio had been off, it also was tuned to a talk radio station. I’m not familiar with either of these lyrics and I can’t tell you if they are from songs that exist, but I’m not sure that really matters.
Clearly, Erik had been a busy boy. What can any of us learn from this story? Love energizes all. In all likelihood, my grief had made it difficult for Erik to extend his energy to me in the form of visits. Discarnate spirits have energy that vibrates at a much higher frequency than ours. When we grieve, our energy becomes even dense, so for our deceased loved ones to manifest, it’d be like trying to break through bulletproof glass.
Giving daily and nightly doses of love to my son has not only lifted my spirits, it has also lifted his. That said, shower your deceased loved ones with affection. Your energy will lighten, theirs with strengthen, and the visits will come, I promise.
