RIP Grandad (still feeling connected even after death)

Even when you are expecting death and preparing for it, it still comes as a shock. I was on holiday at the end of the December, having a much-needed sunny break, but upon arrival back at Heathrow, I found out Grandad had passed away on the penultimate night of the holiday.     

He was 89 and a half – he’d wanted to get to 90 – and had moved from hospitals to dementia homes throughout 2015. This left  Gran alone in their huge, old family house that they’d shared together for half a decade. They’d celebrated their diamond wedding anniversary (65 years) that summer, although I'm not sure whether Grandad was aware of it.

I’d only recently been to visit him in the home. Although he looked frail, had grown whiskers as he was no longer able to shave, and had a huge plaster on his head from where he’d had a fall, he still looked as if he’d make 90, for sure. And although he wasn’t really able to hold a conversation – at least not one that linked in any way to what I had said or asked – he was still ‘in there’, somewhere, probably incredibly frustrated at the fact he could not get anyone to understand him. I had gone there with Gran, and she was still talking to him normally, hoping he would respond in a way that indicated he understood. When he didn't, I could see she was frustrated and upset. I just did what I’d done with Nanna six years previously, which was to chat away – as I can easily do! – but then change topic to respond to his random statements about house repairs he still needed to do, or things that weren’t working. But I could see this was too hard for my gran to do, understandably. For there was the formerly strong, capable man, who took care of all the finances, did all the driving, made all the repairs around the house and always had an opinion on things, now finding it hard to even take a sip of tea from a plastic beaker, like the ones babies use when learning to drink. We truly do go back to being helpless like newborns, but it must be so much harder the second time around, having been fully functioning adults. 

ONCE UPON A TIME: At home with Grandad, probably in 1980

Although he may have lost his ability to converse coherently, Grandad's was still in there. I think he regained some of his teenage mischievousness, as I later learned he frequently tried to ‘escape’ from the home. He would push open the fire exit, then wait for the carers to arrive only to tell them, with a glint in his eye: ‘You took your time!’ He was their favourite, apparently, even if he did cause trouble. Sometimes it would be hard for Mum and Gran to visit him, as he’d demand to be taken home and come with them to the door, then get angry when he wasn’t allowed out. 

But despite his mental state, he certainly didn’t look as if he was going to leave us when he did. It was another fall that did it. Cracked his collarbone with the impact. They rushed him to hospital where he went down hill quite rapidly, so I was told. Fortunately Gran and one of my uncles were there when he took his last breath. They both told me the room went eerily quiet and it felt surreal. Mum and her other brother arrived not long afterwards, so they could at least all grieve together, which was some small comfort.

A psychic connection?

What I now find somewhat ‘spooky’, with hindsight, is how both my grandparents had been on my mind so much during my holiday. I counted back to what I was doing on the night Grandad died; my husband and I had been dining close to the beach under a full moon that had around it an enormous halo. On our last night, the one after he’d died, I saw another halo around the moon, this time rainbow colours and smaller. During our meal, an instrumental version of Over The Rainbow came on in the background. I’ve heard this song plenty of times and not thought about Grandad, but this time I did, and recalled how I’d played the scarecrow in a school play of The Wizard of Oz, just as he’d done many years earlier for an amateur dramatics company. I also thought about how how, out of an entire catalogue of patterns, my two-year-old niece had chosen the scarecrow one for Gran to knit for her. 

But it wasn’t just that. Half way through the holiday we saw on TV that sports commentator Jimmy Hill had died. And, just before the holiday, I learned of the tragic death of a fellow colleague. I hadn’t known him personally but he’d worked on the same floor. It shocked me at the sadness his family would now be feeling at what is usually a celebratory time of year. I remember saying ‘I wonder who will be next? They do say these things go in threes.' It didn't cross my mind that it would be my beloved grandfather. 

I also kept seeing dragonflies on the beach. They’d be buzzing around when I was in a pensive mood. Once, when I was seriously into 'signs' and synchronicity, I used to think they were linked somehow to Grandad as he loved to visit Wales - the dragon being on their flag - and their home also contained lots of emblematic dragons on plates and pictures, as well as two grumpy dragon statues gracing the path outside. Were they symbolic of him connecting with me on an energetic level?

Signs from above?

On the last morning, as I was walking along the beach after breakfast, a glorious rainbow arced through the sky. Rainbows always make me smile, so of course again I began to think about Over The Rainbow, and took loads of pictures. 

 

WAY UP HIGH: The rainbow I saw on the final morning of the holiday, two days after Grandad died

On the seaplane back to the main airport a few hours later, I got to thinking about my grandparent’s house, and how I wished I was rich enough to buy it, give it the massive overhaul and update it needs and pay for a live-in carer so Gran, also 89, could continue to live there. Tears welled in my eyes, perhaps sadness at the imminent loss of perhaps THE most important place in my life, which played such a vital part of my childhood. 

NO PLACE LIKE HOME: Gran and Grandad's house, which they lived in for half a century, and which was the backdrop to so many happy memories

Most of my vivid early memories are in that house or the garden: on a swing or tree house Grandad made, eating boiled eggs he always cooked me for breakfast, or with Gran, who sewed clothes for my Sindy dolls, read stories to me in bed, and baked cookies and let me dress up in their Am Dram costumes from up in the loft. Grandad also did card games and magic. He showed me how to play solitaire, and could do that impressive thing where you cut the cards in half then fan both halves back together. 

PICK A CARD: Grandad entertaining me (middle, back) and my friends at one of my birthday parties in the 80s

I don’t know why I thought about all this as we were in the tiny aircraft, with nothing around to spark the memories and thoughts, only a vast blue ocean dotted with islands. Was I somehow tuning in to what was going on back home, I now wonder? Was I being intuitive? After all, they do say people in separate rooms, even on other sides of the world, can have psychic connections. 

A SLICE OF MAGIC: Grandad with his 'faux cake', which opened up to reveal present boxes inside

Over the Christmas break, probably sparked by the fact Gran was clearing out her entire house of 50 years’ worth of possessions, made worse by the fact neither she nor Grandad ever threw anything away, I too got into tidy mode. The very first place I began – a small drawer in the hallway – contained, hidden under old phones and camera equipment, the box Grandad once made to do the 'magic penny' trick. Why had I chosen that drawer, out of nine, to begin? Was I being directed to search there? If I hadn’t begun tidying, or had started in another room, I may never have found the box and therefore not ended up using it during the speech I gave at the funeral. I couldn't help but think he wanted me to find it...

What Katy read...

A few nights later, I started reading a book I bought ages ago called Honestly Katie John, published back in the 1930s I think. The first page was about her playing solitaire with cards – the game Grandad taught me! I’ve had that book for months, and it's one of a series of four, so I found it weird that I'd 'decided' to read that one, at that time. Was it another sign from Grandad? A way to remember him? Were any of these ‘signs’ little messages? Sceptics would say not. I don’t know, but I found it odd that in the period from my holiday to his funeral in January, I kept seeing lots of little thing that seemed related to him in some way, such as...

...Messages in movies?
I happened to catch The Wizard of Oz on TV. I know, I know, it’s on every year, but I usually miss it. I also caught the last ten minutes of Up, the Pixar animation where an old man, Mr Fredrickson, has to throw everything out of his house to get it to float, then at the end let it go. I couldn’t help but see the symbolism. Not only does the character look exactly like Grandad, and partly share a name, Fred, but he has to say goodbye to his house, which has been such a huge part of his life, in order to move on (see clip below).

 

Right at the very end he has to watch as it float away into the clouds. That set me off crying again (see below). Unfortunately this video has been edited so there are silly chipmunk clips inserted at various points, which ruins it a bit but it was the only one I could find of this scene...

 

A DIY WHIZZ: Grandad, with his wavy grey hair, square jaw and large glasses, reminded me of Mr Fredrickson from Up

I'd also popped into town a week before the funeral. One shop selling home wares and nick knacks was having a closing down sale. I went inside. It was almost empty and looked a bit sad - a bit like my grandparents house now, which every time I go there has fewer and fewer items in the run up to the impending sale. 

Inside a revolving trinket cabinet was a little guitar, which opened in half. I decided to buy it and see whether I could ask for a lock of Grandad's hair to put inside, so Gran could have it as a keepsake. I wasn't sure she'd like the idea, so was a bit nervous giving it to her after the funeral. But she loved it and was showing it to everyone. 

HE WAS THE MUSIC MAN: Grandad playing one of his many musical instruments (and me looking bashful!)

My own favourite memento will be the magic penny box, which is a work of true craftsmanship. Even when I do the trick badly people still can't work it out and wonder why the box is rattling when there is clearly no penny inside. But as I said at the end of my speech, amazingly managing not to cry for the duration: "The trick is that the penny is always there, on the inside - it's just hidden so you can't see it. And although Grandad is no longer here in person for us to see anymore, he will always be here, inside our hearts."

Oh and guess what the first song was we sang at the funeral? Not that I could sing it for the lump in my throat...

Believing in synchronicity and the butterfly signs

It's been months, perhaps even a year, since I did a card reading for myself. When I edited Soul&Spirit magazine I'd be sent numerous card decks, mainly from the lovely peeps at Hay House or Blue Angel and so inevitably I'd end up doing readings, usually to find out what was going to be happening in my love life, as that tends to be the main concern during our 20s.
I still have a fair few of those beautiful decks, one of which is the Wisdom of the Golden Path, by Toni Carmine Salerno, with beautiful illustrations by Yuehui Tang.

A couple of weeks ago I decided to do a quick three-card reading, just before my birthday. I shuffled and selected the top three cards, one of which was Listen to Your Heart (see below).

In the accompanying booklet, it read: 'Butterflies and ladybirds bring good fortune. They signify the deep transformation taking place in your life as your true nature emerges... You will realise you have much to offer the world just by being you... Take notice every time a butterfly flutters into your field of vision for it is a positive reinforcement you are on the right track.'

Inside the Wisdom of the Golden Path booklet (Blue Angel), telling me to watch out for butterflies

What a lovely message! Then, my rational, left brain immediately jumped in with the thought 'fat chance of that in November! All the butterflies are long gone'.

But, as I'm increasingly experiencing, synchronicity does play a part in my life - in everyone's lives - no matter how much I want to ignore it. For here's what I saw that week: my grandparents and my parents sent me birthday cards with butterflies on; my best friend bought me a scarf with a butterfly design; I spotted a book at work with butterflies on it; the art director of my mag (Top Sante) chose an image with a butterfly in it to illustrate one of the features; I opened a parcel and the invoice had a butterfly on the top; one of my colleagues came in wearing a new butterfly dress (what's more, as I looked up Blue Angel, I saw on their home page they have two card decks with butterflies on); oh, and just as I was thinking 'yeah, but I'm never going to see a lady bird', I flicked through CICO's - the publishers - catalogue at work and saw a new book about making fancy dress for your children. Guess what was on the cover? A little girl wearing, you guessed it... a lady bird outfit.

 Now, you could argue that all those 'signs' were going to be there anyway - the colleague was going to wear her new dress, the designer was going to choose that image, my family were likely to end up picking cards with butterflies on as, well, they're a popular motif. And perhaps the only reason I spotted them all was because I'd primed my brain for noticing them with the oracle card, in a similar way to when you're looking to move house, you notice 'for sale' signs everywhere that previously didn't register on your radar. Again, this is my rational side talking. But I can't help but feel these supposedly everyday, normal objects become 'signs' because of the serendipitous coming together of multiple variables, creating meaning for me and me alone (and in the same way, completely different sets of events/objects/songs/people etc, coincide to create meaning for other people in a way that would be meaningless for me).


Anyway, surely life is more enjoyable if we allow ourselves to believe in a little magic? That's why being a kid is so much fun, after all (well, usually, it depends on your personality) because you get to play and make up stories and pretend anything can happen. And maybe it can, if we just tune in to our inner guidance and watch out for the signs to lead the way.

I'll finish up by quoting, as I often do, my all-time favourite artist, Madonna (I'm seeing her in concert this Tuesday at the O2 - so excited!): "Traveling down this road, watching the signs as I go..." (1.14 in the video below)

Do you believe in synchronicity?

Quick addition to previous post about the Vipassana retreat. Was just on Twitter and noticed Karen Ruimy - whose dancing and writing I have mentioned in previous posts - attended an event recently called the Noble Gift Gala. This word noble keeps cropping up for me, firstly in the name Paul Noble at the Turner Prize exhibition a few weeks ago, then on a poster for the comedian Paul Noble and, immediately afterwards, I saw the word on a Kindle (I admit it, I was reading over someone's shoulder on the Tube - shame on me!). Then I saw it again earlier today in part of the description for the Vipassana retreat, in that they called the type of silence we will be in 'noble', in ref to silence of speech, mind and body, and then again just now for the aforementioned Noble Gift Gala.

Synchronicity? 
I often see things in groups and wonder whether it's some kind of sign or whether it's just the randomness of life, and the fact I'm noticing something is because it's in my consciousness already so I'm naturally more attuned to picking it up. For example, I never normally notice for sale signs outside houses but when I was going through that purchasing process some years ago, I couldn't help but spot them all the time. Again, another time I kept seeing things about Australia, which I took to mean a sign I should go there (esp as they cropped up at opportune times when I'd been thinking about it). I still see those signs and you could say it's coincidence as Australia-related things are everywhere, and I'm just making a meaning out of it. Perhaps, but I quite like the idea the universe is somehow trying to guide me to things, people and places.

Anyway, back to the word noble - it was also the maiden name of my great grandmother. Perhaps it's a sign from her, pointing me in the right direction? In which case that;s good because it means my decision to undertake this crazy ten-day silence retreat will perhaps do me some good!

Advice from a rich woman...

Just had to share this. As I may have ranted on yesterday and this morning, I've been trying to get focused on book writing. The other day, via one of my usual web links that led to another web link that led to yet another link (I suffer from information overload), I ended up purchasing a copy of Rich Woman: A book on Investing for Woman, by Kim Kiyosaki, wife of the best-selling author, and millionaire many times over I'm sure, Robert Kiyosaki, who wrote Rich Dad Poor Dad - I read that some years ago.

Right words, right time
So, I just picked up the book and flicked to a random page. Bearing in mind all I've been thinking about in the past few days, about how I really just need to stop talking and start taking some action to making my dreams happen re becoming an author, the page almost caused me to laugh out loud! Here is a book on investing, and I just happen to turn to the page all about getting on with writing a book! I've attached it for you here - sorry about the bad photo - but the gist of it is that Kim also had the same problem with talking about writing for years and her friends one day pulled her up on it and said 'so where is it then? You're all talk!'. It took her three years. She then goes on to give an example of a woman who did her accounting, who always asked for advice on investing. After a few years of the same conversations, Kim got so fed up that she declared 'Enough! No more advice until you actually go out and make an investment!', which the woman finally did.

LETTERS FROM HEAVEN? My 'random' first page of Kim Kiyosaki's book, Rich Woman, which just happens to be all about getting off your backside and actually writing a book! 

Guided from above?
The point is that you can talk and talk all you want but only actions will get results (unless, of course, we're talking about relationships, in which the opposite is often the case, as I have found, but that's a whole other subject for another time!). I merely wanted to point out the somewhat synchronistic 'chance' of opening the book to this very page. Perhaps it's a sign? I do get rather into my 'signs' and wondering whether seemingly random things might mean something, or be prompts from another level of reality. Some might even say it was my guardian angels giving me a physical nudge in the right direction, especially as I then went and picked up the Doreen Virtue pack of angels cards sitting beside my bed, opened the box, and the first card I saw was the 'Books' one, affirming, 'Your purpose and mission is to write, read, edit or sell spiritual books'. A double sign! Well, I've been told (she says, nodding to 'them upstairs').