Mom's Paranormal Experiences...

THIS one is of course, true!

My mother, the die-hard paranormal skeptic, had quite a few experiences in her life, including hearing heavenly music several times, right before someone would pass away in the family. The first time this happened, was when my father’s father was in the hospital. He wasn’t expected to die, by any stretch. She and my father, along with a couple of his brothers and sisters, were visiting him, and as they were getting ready to leave, Mom began hearing what she described as “Beautiful, Heavenly Music.” When I asked her to describe is, she said it was like a choir and an orchestra mixed up together, but it was definitely the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She asked if anyone else heard anything. When the entire Hall clan said no, she clammed up and said nothing more in front of them. Later that evening, when she and my father were sitting at home, they got the call that Grandpa Hall had passed.

                It was a few years before she heard it again. This time, unfortunately, it was her own mother. Grandma Johnson had a rough life, to be sure. She lost two children. Mom was the only survivor of her progeny. As Gram sickened (pancreatic cancer. In the early 1960s, it was simply a death sentence), Mom cared for her at home. They sat one day, talking in the sun room. Gram knew she didn’t have much time left, and she was in great pain. Mom was concerned, as anyone would be. She couldn’t save her own mother, and she knew it. Gram tried to put her at ease, despite her own pain; “I’m going to a beautiful place. You don’t have to worry about me. I worry about who will care for YOU.” And again, my Mother heard that unearthly music. She knew for herself, Gram’s suffering was nearly over. Later that same day, it was.

                I often wondered to myself, if she heard the music when my father passed. But I was always scared to ask. It was a bad time for all of us.  Did she hear it when her own time came? I wonder that, too. I missed both of their passings, Pop and Mom, by minutes at best. All I can hope is that they knew I was there at the end. I of course, hear nothing.

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                In her later years, Mom was pretty intolerant of heavy anti-biotics. They made her more than a little loopy in the head. Sometimes, viciously so.  On those times, I wouldn’t stay long. Woof. It was rough to take. The last time she was in the hospital, doped up on anti-biotics, was in March of 2006. I went and visited her, but the first few days, she was unbearable. Then, they began to reduce the dosage. While she was not RIGHT, she was at least not Hell On Wheels. I went in to see her, and was nervous at the foul expression on her face. I thought the doctors upped her meds again. I asked her how she was. She replied that she was annoyed. My brother had been there last night, but would not speak to her. He just sat on a chair in the corner and shook his head. Well, I was more than slightly skeptical. My brother was out in Idaho, as far as we knew and had been estranged from the family for many years. He didn’t even come home for Pop’s funeral. So, I highly doubted his presence. I figured she was seeing things again. Turns out I was right; after a fashion.             

                Fast forward to March 2007. Just over a month after Mom passed. Mom’s only living niece received a letter from my brother’s wife, bitching the family out for not having included my brother in Mom’s death announcement, as a survivor. It upset my cousin quite a bit. I would have simply ignored it. My sister, was not so forgiving. She took the letter, and I knew my brother’s wife was truly going to regret having written it, once Sis was done with her.

                2 weeks later, my sister called me at work. She asked if I was sitting down. I said I was. Our brother had been dead for over a year. Her research revealed he had passed in March of 2006. The last time my Mother was in the hospital. Hallucinating, so I thought…

                I can’t say I was hurt that he was gone. He was never good to my sister or myself. And surely not good at all to my parents. But I hope he found peace anyway. And that they are all at peace with each other, wherever they may be.

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                I walked into the nursing home to see Mom one day after work. Normally, she was dozing and I would have to sit down beside her and touch her to wake her up. This time, she was wide awake and waiting for me.

                “I had a visitor this morning.” She said, looking at me pointedly, though she couldn’t see me well at all, through the haze of her just starting cataracts.

                “Oh?” I asked cautiously, “Father Romanowski?”

                “No. YOUR father.” She said, seriously.

                I was ready to go get the duty nurse and ask if someone had been screwing with mom’s meds. She was NOT a believer in “ghosts” and ghostly visitations. As far as she was concerned, you died and went to heaven, purgatory or hell, depending on how big a schmuck you had been in life. You didn’t get to hang around on earth and “appear” to people. I never thought I would see the day when my own mother would admit to having seen a Ghost.

                “What did he say?” I asked.

                “Nothing! He just stood there looking at me and cleaning his glasses on his necktie.”

                “Okay. What did he look like? Old or young? Sick or healthy?”

                “Young. Healthy. He had all his hair. He looked good.” She teared up a bit. Pop had suffered miserably in his decline. When he finally passed, he was a mere shadow of the strapping man that had taken care of all of us for so many years.

                “Well, I told you, you had visitors and people watching over you.”

                “Hell of a shock to see.” She had grunted, shaking her head.

                Maybe. But a comfort to know he was around and still trying to be of help in some fashion.

Mom and Pop - 1941