A Personal Experience By Adrienne
The row of glass elephants on my shelf reminds me of my Grandpa Tom every time my eyes drift above my desk. His is a sad story. Two days before his seventy-fifth birthday, he passed away from a heart attack. As he lay on the hospital bed, he cried, and apologized to us that we had to cancel all the birthday celebrations we'd planned for him.
My eyes still blur with tears when I think about it.
Grandpa Tom was the one who introduced me to paranormal activity, and the two of us were always the ones in my family who believed in it. Recently, I've been reading the book "Coast to Coast Ghost," by Leslie Rule, a book about personal experiences and instructions on how to communicate with your deceased loved ones. It would be the perfect way to bring our bond full circle.
Two days before Valentine's Day, I shut Leslie Rule's book and sat on the edge of my bed. I closed my eyes and began to practice the techniques I'd learned.
"Grandpa," I said, in the softest possible voice above a whisper, as the text instructed, "please move my pear glass elephant to the desk. If it falls, it will shatter. I'll know it was you because it will be safe. Please, Grandpa," I added, choking back tears.
Nothing happened for two days.
On Valentine's Day, I awoke to a strange chill in my room. I sat up and looked immediately to my shelf. Standing on the floor, in one piece, was my pear glass elephant.
I scrambled out of bed and knelt beside it. It was freezing to the touch, but I felt no fear -- just amazement.
I ran to the phone and dialed my grandma's number. "Grandma...Grandpa sent me a gift."
She sounded shaken. "Adrienne, dear, you must be mistaken."
I spent an hour convincing her of what had happened. After it was over, I think she believed.
I do. I believe that my grandpa gave me the best Valentine's Day present of all -- proof that our loved ones are never really gone.
The row of glass elephants on my shelf reminds me of my Grandpa Tom every time my eyes drift above my desk. His is a sad story. Two days before his seventy-fifth birthday, he passed away from a heart attack. As he lay on the hospital bed, he cried, and apologized to us that we had to cancel all the birthday celebrations we'd planned for him.
My eyes still blur with tears when I think about it.
Grandpa Tom was the one who introduced me to paranormal activity, and the two of us were always the ones in my family who believed in it. Recently, I've been reading the book "Coast to Coast Ghost," by Leslie Rule, a book about personal experiences and instructions on how to communicate with your deceased loved ones. It would be the perfect way to bring our bond full circle.
Two days before Valentine's Day, I shut Leslie Rule's book and sat on the edge of my bed. I closed my eyes and began to practice the techniques I'd learned.
"Grandpa," I said, in the softest possible voice above a whisper, as the text instructed, "please move my pear glass elephant to the desk. If it falls, it will shatter. I'll know it was you because it will be safe. Please, Grandpa," I added, choking back tears.
Nothing happened for two days.
On Valentine's Day, I awoke to a strange chill in my room. I sat up and looked immediately to my shelf. Standing on the floor, in one piece, was my pear glass elephant.
I scrambled out of bed and knelt beside it. It was freezing to the touch, but I felt no fear -- just amazement.
I ran to the phone and dialed my grandma's number. "Grandma...Grandpa sent me a gift."
She sounded shaken. "Adrienne, dear, you must be mistaken."
I spent an hour convincing her of what had happened. After it was over, I think she believed.
I do. I believe that my grandpa gave me the best Valentine's Day present of all -- proof that our loved ones are never really gone.
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