I am fortunate to be surrounded by writers and souls who continuously illuminate, enlighten, amuse and offer great wisdom. Jennifer Mathews is one of these beautiful souls. Please enjoy this most recent post from her regular blog, Seeing Death in a Different Light, and be sure to sign up to get a free copy of her upcoming e-book. Until next time, many holiday season blessings to you all.
Up high above the staircase to our bedroom, there was a light bulb in a parchment paper globe hanging from the ceiling. To change it required a ladder precariously placed on boards, or one of those special extended light bulb poles you can buy at Home Depot. So when the bulb finally went out, we didn’t bother to replace it.
This meant that my partner Kate and I walked upstairs in the dark every night, step by step, touching the wall for balance. I tended to push my toes into the base of each stair to feel stable. Sometimes, I closed my eyes because sensing each step felt easier that way. Once my toes no longer felt another step, I knew I arrived at the top. Then I’d reach my left hand into the bedroom, and turn on the light by pressing in the round dimmer switch knob before walking into the room. This became our routine.
Then after a number of months had gone by, my walk up the dark staircase became a solo journey.
Experiencing Kate’s spirit
Kate had been diagnosed with advanced stages of cancer in the fall, and would return to spirit soon thereafter. Before she died the evening of December 3rd 2011, I had gone upstairs for a minute. Afterward, I sat in the dark on the top carpeted step, candlelight glowing in the living room below, music playing softly in the background. I watched her body rise and fall as she breathed.
In that moment, I felt her spirit so strongly that I physically had to move over and make room for her ethereal body to sit next to me.
Silently, I asked her if she was witnessing what I was, looking down at herself, laying in the hospital bed. In my mind, I heard her answer that it was exactly what she was experiencing since much of her spirit was already out of her body. I could barely believe what was happening, and yet at the same time, I was certain it was completely real.
Months later . . .
The following spring, months after Kate’s death, I carefully made my way to the top of the stairs on another pitch black night. I reached into my bedroom, pressed the knob to turn on the light and POP!, the quick flash and electrical sound of a blown bulb.
“Bummer!” I said out loud to myself, because it was totally dark in my room. I clicked the knob many times and turned the dimmer dial right and left, hoping it would come back on so I didn’t have to add this to my “to do” list. Yes, a simple thing – to change a light bulb right over my bed – but it’s another thing to procrastinate on doing.
A few weeks had gone by, and I often forgot the bulb was out. I’d press in the knob, or spin it, and no luck. No light. Then on one particular morning, I woke up early. I’m not really sure why I opened my eyes since I knew it was much earlier than I need to get up. I looked at the clock – 7:28am – and I thought, “Great. I can still get two more hours of sleep.” I’m a night owl, not a morning person.
Laying on my back, I looked up at the ceiling.
The light above my bed was on.
In my sleepiness, I followed my mind attempting to figure it all out: Did I fall asleep with that on last night? But I can’t fall asleep with lights on, so that’s strange. Hmmmm, was the electricity out when I went to bed, and then came back on? Then I remembered. No, Jen, that bulb is dead.
And then it dawned on me . . . WHOA! The light is ON!!
Experiencing Kate’s spirit yet again
I could feel Kate’s presence in the room.
I immediately said “Hello, Kate,” and shook my head, smiling. My mind drifted from disbelief to thanking Kate for repairing the blown-out bulb. I realized she may even have changed it, as I heard her say it’s a “simple” thing to do. Then I remember her voice in my head, offering me this joke:
Q. – How many spirits does it take to change a light bulb?
A. – One.
At first, I laughed because it is – of course – a classic joke. But I thought maybe I heard the punch line wrong because it seemed too boring. Like a child telling a joke that wasn’t really funny, but you laugh anyway because they’re trying. But a split second later, with her voice and gentle chuckle in my mind, I heard her add the true Kate flavor:
Because we are ALL ONE!
Ha ha ha! I laughed out loud. A spiritual light bulb joke. Good one, Kate.
“Can you change the lightbulb in the hallway above the stairs, too?” I joked with her. I felt her smile.
I wanted to call her family right away, email my friends, let people know about this incredible connection. But then I wondered if they would even believe me, or if they would rationalize all the reasons this miracle hadn’t actually happened.
What I realized that morning was not that it’s possible to communicate with those in the spirit world. I already knew that. What I realized was that it didn’t matter if anyone believed me. I knew what happened. I was clear. Yes, I can indeed communicate with those who have died, and now, I trusted this more fully, rather than being skeptical of my own first hand experience. Whether others believe me or not doesn’t diminish what I know I experienced, what I know deep down to be true.
The light bulb lesson I learned is that I don’t need to convince anyone of anything! I just need to tell my stories, to tell the truth. So here I am, telling you.
And here’s the rest of the story . . . A few days later, my landlord arrived at the house out of the blue. He said he just bought one of those long poles needed to change the light bulb above the stairs! I hadn’t talked to him about this for many months. I thanked Kate for giving him a nudge to take care of it. What service!