Part 4: (True Ghost Story) This Is How a Ghost Threw Me a Surprise Party
Photo courtesy of Syaibatul Hamdi from Pixabay
“Mediumship is not a dog and pony show aimed at applause or viewer ratings. It is a spiritual endeavor that seeks to validate, console, heal and uplift. It’s a blessing from beyond…like a phone call from God.”
― Anthon St. Maarten
My birthday arrived that year under a cloak of grief. My daughter, Willow, and I had not been back in England long, having spent a month in Canada due to my father’s death. She and I had been blessed to have several days with him before he returned to the spirit realm.
Along with other family issues, I was concerned about my ailing widowed mother. A heaviness had settled in my heart as Willow and I boarded a plane back to my (now former) husband and our relatively new life in England.
A bright spot for us was how dearly we loved the 500-year-old stone cottage that had become our home just weeks before my father’s death. The three of us adored every nook and cranny of the quirky old cottage.
Apparently, so did the ghost who had been there first.
And who didn’t seem at all interested in leaving.
There may have been others although from what we could tell so far, the one we knew about seemed harmless enough. But who knew what other spirits had yet to reveal themselves…
Anyway, as happy as I was to be back home, I missed my father and my family in Canada. And I missed my friend, Jim, in England, too. He had come up and stayed with us for a few weeks after we moved into the cottage. He helped us with the demolition and renovations and was there until just before I had to dash back to Canada.
A kind-hearted, playful young man, it was easy to smile with Jim around. And at that time, he was the only real friend I had in England. So yeah, I missed him, too.
The Birthday
My husband was away for work when my birthday rolled around. And Willow, bless her dear heart, knowing I was a bit out of sorts she felt bad having to go to school that morning.
“It’s your birthday and you’re all by yourself! And you’re so sad!” Her big, brown eyes were “thisclose” to filling with tears for worrying about her Mama.
“You’re sweet to worry, but I’m okay. Really, it’s not a big deal,” I smiled. Although I would sure love a call from your brother. But it was 1.00 a.m. in Calgary; Eric had to be up early for work. Not much chance he’d be calling.
“Better hurry and finish getting ready for school, Willow. Nina will be here in a minute.”
Willow and her friend always caught the school bus together at the end of our lane. Today would be no different from any other day.
Or so we thought.
Nina arrived right on schedule. I let her in and closed the door behind her. The chilly February morning could stay outside.
Within a couple of minutes, Willow was ready and it was time for the girls to leave.
But the door wouldn’t open. It wasn’t locked. It was just…stuck.
Willow tried several times to open it. Nina gave it a shot, too. The door wouldn’t budge.
The girls called out to me to come and take a look. I couldn’t get it open either.
“Strange! There was no problem when I let Nina in a few minutes ago!”
With the clock getting dangerously close to the time the school bus would arrive, I suggested they use the side door. We rarely used it; the front door was much more convenient.
I grabbed the key and unlocked it. But when I pulled on the handle, the door was just as stuck as the other one. No matter what any of us did, it wouldn’t open. The girls were on their way to try the front door again when the phone rang.
I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Happy birthday, Ma!” My face broke into a smile at the sound of my son’s voice.
Almost immediately after we began speaking, the front door flew open when Willow tried again. Calling out that they were finally on their way, the girls then scurried down the lane just in time to meet the bus.
The Phone Call
After the usual chit-chat of “How are you” and all that good stuff, I told my son about the doors. As I began to explain what had happened, immediately Lydia’s presence filled the room.
That was just like her; she would usually find a way to make her presence known when we were speaking about her. She loved attention.
Suddenly, my conversation with Eric was interrupted with music that I can only describe as creepy. It was a well-known classical piece — one that I love — but it was a bad electronic version that sounded like it had been produced by an amateur.
For a few moments, Eric and I could barely hear each other, both of us trying to work out what was happening. I managed to tell him to hang up and said I’d ring him straight back.
I waited a few moments, then picked up the receiver and listened for a dial tone.
There wasn’t one.
All I got was the creepy, electronic classical piece again.
Adrenalin flooded through my body. I’d been unnerved by some of the ghostly activities during the brief time we had lived there. This, however, was downright disturbing.
Oh, dear God, I can’t call out. What the hell is going on?
I disconnected. Waited a moment. Tried again, praying for a dial tone.
Still just creepy music.
Panic rose in my throat. My hands were trembling. I could have sworn my veins were filled with ice water.
Damn! I can’t call for help! Although who the hell would I call anyway?
That damned awful Ghostbusters song popped into my head. Just in time for a bit of comic relief as I remembered that I did have a mobile I could use if necessary. I could at least call my husband. Yeah, not that he could do anything from a couple hundred miles away.
If some terrifying Other-Worldly Thing was about to do something excruciatingly horrible to me, I was pretty sure I was screwed.
“I need a bloody exorcist,” I muttered, my heart pounding in my ears as I tried the phone again.
Finally, a dial tone. I got through.
The Party
After relating the events of the morning to my son, we speculated that Lydia wanted me to have a party. Or at least, she didn’t want me to be alone on my birthday. She kept Willow at home until Eric rang.
And it seemed that she was only too happy to provide music. I mean, what’s a party without it?
I know from my many experiences with spirits down the years that they do enjoy playing with All Things Electric/Electronic. It’s energy; that’s their language. It’s an easy way for them to communicate with us.
Once I viewed the disturbing electronic music through that lens, I wasn’t frightened anymore. This time.
Lydia was teaching me all sorts of ghostie tricks I hadn’t encounted in all the years I’d been communicating with spirits. I was learning a whole new language. Rosetta Stone’s got nothin’ on you, Lydia.
One Final Surprise
Not long after I finished talking with Eric, the phone rang again and I saw that it was my husband. I couldn’t wait to tell him what had happened. But before I could do that, he had news of his own.
“I’ve been trying to call for a while.”
“That’s odd. I was on with Eric but ‘call waiting’ didn’t kick in.” More puzzles.
“Yes, well, it gets weirder.”
“Oh?” I was ready for just about anything by then.
“I tried several times and it just kept going to voice mail. But it wasn’t the message that you, Willow and I recorded a couple of weeks ago.”
I thought he must have meant it was one of those automated messages, the generic one you get before you set up your own.
Before I could ask, he continued. “It was the silly one that all four of us recorded when Jim stayed with us.”
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
“That can’t be!”
“Yeah. Well, it was.”
“But that’s — how did — ” I couldn’t even finish the question. There were no words. It was an electronic message. It had been completely deleted. There was no option to store messages on the line. You either recorded one or deleted it. Full stop.
“I’m guessing it was Lydia?” he asked hesitantly. And he hadn’t even heard the events of the morning yet.
I explained what had happened during the course of the previous hour. Our only conclusion was that Lydia wanted to find a way to bring my friend, Jim, to the party, too.
Ah, dear Lydia. Bless your heart! Thank you!
It was about as perfect a surprise birthday party as a ghost could ever throw.