THERE ARE NO COINCIDENCES……..AGAIN!!!
Three of my four grandparents were blessed with longevity. My only living grandfather died in his early nineties. My maternal grandmother, his wife, died when she was ninety-six. My paternal grandmother was also in her mid-nineties when she died. She was in the unenviable position of losing her husband when still relatively young, in her early fifties. She had already lost her eldest son. He had suffered a horrendous fatal accident when still a boy, which happened in front of his younger brother, my father and his young sister; an accident that left both my father and my aunt severally traumatised. I guess my grandmother dealt with this tragic loss as best she could. She closed herself off from my father and turned her full attention to her young and beautiful daughter. My father wasn’t quite as gifted athletically or scholastically as his older brother; maybe a slight disappointment. Having said that he still managed to study and qualify in Veterinary Medicine at the prestigious University of Cambridge.
Things were done differently in those days I guess. The pre-war 1930s were full of unrest; a difficult time for most people. My father and aunt were sent away to boarding school whilst my grandmother accompanied her husband, a civil engineer, back to India where they lived a fairly opulent colonial lifestyle. My father and aunt spent their school holidays with a maiden great-aunt who looked after them royally. She loved them dearly and did everything in her power to make their young lives happy. However well she cared for and nurtured them, this was not quite the same as having their parents with them through these formative years. I believe that both my father and aunt were deeply affected for the rest of their lives by this absence of parental care as they were growing up.
My father always told the story of a visit by his father to his boarding school one day during the rugby season. He hadn’t seen his father for well over a year and during the game caught sight of him standing alongside the Headmaster watching the game. He was elated; full of pride in the fact that his father was there watching him play. At the end of the game he dashed over to find him only to be told that his father had already left! My father was shattered. What a strange way to ‘nurture’ a child.
I have gone back to these times to help explain my present situation. I have been told by four separate Mediums and Channels, people who have had no idea of our family history, that my paternal grandmother is one of my dominant Spirit Guides and that she does this from a position of ‘knowingness’ and ‘mindfulness’. Maybe she is the one who has pushed me to research and to study and to read and to try to make sense of the tragedy of losing Rowan. Maybe she wants me to see a positive perspective to this loss. Maybe she hopes that I will enhance my understanding and become more spiritually enlightened. She lost her son, David and never learned to deal with it in all the years that she lived. She closed herself down and cloaked herself in indifference. My father never fully recovered from this indifference; disinterest. On analysis I really do believe that Gran is doing for me something that she wished had happened for her. If we are all part of one great big soul family then this makes perfect sense.
If you were to have asked me a few years ago which grandmother would have been most likely to be a spirit guide for me I would have guessed my maternal grandmother every time. She and I were far closer, particularly as she grew older, than I was to my paternal grandmother. I actually felt a more spiritual connection to the maiden aunt who raised my father and aunt than I did to Granny S; perhaps borne from a defensive reaction to my father’s upbringing.
I have been told, again by several people, that Rowan is an old soul. I have been told that he has reached the enviable position where he doesn’t have to return to learn more life lessons; he now has the choice. He is, at the moment, a guide to those other young people who cross over at a young age; he meets and greets and soothes. He intends to be there for Chris and I when we cross over. What then? Who knows? For now I am happy to know that he is busy doing what he does best; making people feel loved, warm and comfortable. I am happy to know that Granny S, in helping me, is helping herself to finally heal.
There are no coincidences – perhaps, in our interwoven lives, these experiences are all pre-determined, one great big tapestry of life.