My Little Shadow: Chapter 1

A surprise visitor brings more questions than answers

“Bye guys, have a good day at school!”

“Bye Mumma!”

“Have a good day, Mum.”

Carly and Rudy settled into the truck with their Dad. I waved as he backed out of the driveway. There were only a few weeks left in the school year, then both kids were off to new experiences. In the fall, Carly would be in grade nine and Rudy in grade seven. High school and middle school. I shook my head, still trying to figure out where the time went. I swear, just last week they were little kids watching Sesame Street. Now it was Avengers movies and anime.

Bogey, our three-year-old Doberman Pinscher, walked around the yard on his morning patrol. There was not one stone unturned as he made sure all was well in our little world. Something warm and fuzzy brushed against my legs and I glimpsed a black and grey streak heading into the garden. I smiled.

“Hey Lexi.” Came for a visit today, did you?”

Lexi was the grey tabby we found panting in the heat by our front steps last year. She couldn’t walk and a trip to the vet told us her injuries were consistent with being hit by a car. There was nothing we could do for her, her back end was irreparable, so we gathered around and loved her until she passed.

Beautiful soul that she was, Lexi came back to visit us every once in a while. We loved having her around. It might alarm most people to have the spirit of a dead cat visiting them, but it was part and parcel for me. As a medium, someone who communicated with and saw spirits of those who had passed, not much phased me anymore.

“Bogey, let’s go!” Come on, Lexi. Mumma’s got work to do this morning.” I led the parade of pets, living and dead, into the house.

A nice breeze blew through the house as I put together a proposal for a small legal firm, outlining my vision for their new website.

While building my website design business, I worked with spirit. Life as a medium meant I was sometimes at the mercy of dead people, but I saw it as speaking for those who can’t speak for themselves.

Geordie came in from dropping the kids to school at half-past nine and headed right into his bat cave, the cool basement on a warm day, to get some work done. I blew him a kiss as he closed the door and left me to my work.

Beep Beep Beep

The alarm on my phone chimed off. It was ten o’clock and time to get ready for my appointment at eleven. Spirit led me to work as a spiritual counsellor to the living, passing messages and wisdom on from the other side. It was time to get ready for my next session. Wendy’s arrival was imminent.

I can’t wait to see her. It’s been too long.

As I tidied my desk, I felt this overwhelming urge to use my mugwort smudge stick to cleanse the energy of the house. Since I was not one to ignore a nudge from spirit, I grabbed my mugwort wand, abalone shell and wild turkey feathers to get the job done right.

Today was Wendy’s first session since she went on vacation a month ago. That’s most likely why I felt the urge to smudge the house. I needed to freshen it up for her return. Cleansing the energy is never a bad thing, so I didn’t question it.

Mugwort smoke continued to billow up from the shell as the doorbell rang. Bogey ran to the door, barking.

“Hi Sarah. Good to see you. And Bogey. How’s my good boy doing this morning? Did you miss me?” Bogey waged his tail clear off his rear end as he waited for Wendy to pull out treats to give him.

“You spoil him, Wendy.” I shook my head, loving the connection between between the two of them.

“How could I not?” Her strained laugh flagged my radar. “He is such a good boy.”

“Yes, and so deprived of affection and attention without you.” We moved into the office to begin our session.

Wendy settled herself into the wing-back chair as I sat on the love seat across from it. I’m not sure who looked forward to these sessions more, me or Wendy.

My routine was off-kilter when she was away. She’d become a friend, not just a client, and helping her along her spiritual journey helped me along mine. I learned much from our work together, moving forward along my life’s journey in order to do spirit’s work. It was a win-win situation.

Wendy didn’t feel like herself. There was a blip in her energy field, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering her. Now wasn’t the time to address it so, with a deep breath, I put it aside and got down to business.

“So, why don’t we begin with your vacation. How did you do with the list of things you wanted to accomplish while you were away?” One leg over the other, I sat back to wait for her to begin.

Wendy travelled to Nova Scotia to visit her brother on the Bay of Fundy, in Halls Harbour. Wendy sent me pictures that made me yearn for a road trip. Geordie and I took the kids to the East Coast a few summers before, we knew how beautiful and welcoming it was. I was drawn to the water, as was Geordie, and we’d looked into moving down East, but it made more sense to stay where we were.

“Well, I didn’t do as well as I wanted to, if I’m honest. But I had a good time, if that matters. I meditated at 6am every morning. On the dock, overlooking the ocean. Spirit gave me some good insight into what direction they want to take me.” She shrugged and, with a small smile, finished with, “Other than that, though, I didn’t do too much.”

I shook my head and chuckled. “You meditated every morning, and on a dock with an ocean view, to boot. You put me to shame.” I shot her a wink. “Did you end up visiting those shops you wanted to?”

“Oh, yes. I did. They were lovely.” Wendy told me all about the metaphysical shops she visited, the new books and tools she picked up and the people she met. “I also audited a few classes in the theology department at Acadia University. They were very thought-provoking. Made me think things through in ways I hadn’t considered before. It was amazing.”

The opportunity to audit those classes brought Wendy out of her comfort zone, which was what she needed. Her strict Catholic upbringing made it difficult for her to find her own path. With parents who refused to accept or acknowledge any other religion, including other sects of Christianity, Wendy grew up confused and repressed. It was that rigidity in their devout faith that put her in the state she was in when she showed up on my doorstep the previous year.

Our path together the past months had been difficult as we worked through her many issues surrounding who she was and who her parents thought she should be. It hadn’t been easy to watch her reconcile her upbringing with the life she felt drawn to now. The results were worth the struggle.

I watched her face as we talked about her vacation. After a few moments’ distraction, I tried to bring the focus back to her spiritual journey.

“What classes did you attend?”

“I have come to some conclusions after those classes…”

Wendy and I spoke at once, laughed together before I waved her on. As she began to speak, a figure appeared behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Tears sprang to my eyes when I noticed the love and support the figure directed at Wendy. I watched as Wendy straightened her spine, lifted her chin, confidence and clarity oozing from her.

“The classes, History of Christianity, Christian Theology I, and Christian Ethics, made me realize there is so much more to my spiritual growth than I realized.” She leaned forward, fingers laced around her knee. “I know what direction spirit is leading me into, I just need to figure out how to accomplish all the goals I feel drawn to.” Wendy sat back, releasing everythign in one whoosh of a breath.

The figure behind her moved to Wendy’s right side, sitting on the arm of the chair, one leg swinging to a silent rhythm. Smiling, the figure came into focus for me. An older woman, she felt like she was from a generation or two above Wendy. And a family member. Grandmother or Grand-Aunt, maybe. From what I knew of Wendy’s family, I assumed she was from her maternal side of the family.

Hello there. Are you here to speak to Wendy? The woman smiled and nodded. I can help you with that, if you need me to. Are you her grandmother? Her mother’s mother, perhaps?

No, her father was my son. I knew Wendy when she was an infant. Her mother kept her from me once she met and remarried Wendy’s stepfather. Wistful, she looked at Wendy with so much love I teared up. I missed so much of her life, I don’t want to miss any more.

Her words gave me a moment’s pause. What she told me didn’t fit into what I remembered Wendy telling me about her family. She’d told me she grew up next door to her father’s mother and was close with her to this day. Her grandmother lived with her parents now. Wendy saw her often. More importantly, her father’s mother was still alive.

I hope you enjoyed this first installment and will join me for Chapter 2, below. Claire Kelly Galit Birk, PhD Kristina God David Perlmutter Mark Tulin Angi Markert Stuart Englander