I Might Have Known Him

May 16
17:42

2018

Carolyn Molnar

Carolyn Molnar

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I schedule my sessions so I can take a break to walk. What a wonderful way to clear my head. As I meander down tree-lined streets, I occasionally glance at a house, as if there’s some connection between me and someone living there. And for a moment, I stop and wonder…

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I schedule my sessions so I can take a break to walk through the neighbourhood. What a wonderful way to clear my head. As I meander down tree-lined streets,I Might Have Known Him Articles I occasionally glance at a house, as if there’s some connection between me and someone living there. And for a moment, I stop and wonder…

Recently I talked by Skype with Renee, an elegant, middle-aged lady with a thick head of dark hair. She smiled as she introduced herself, then gestured to her adult son, sitting behind her.

“Can Bruce—” She stopped, flustered. “I mean Ted—”

The young man narrowed his eyes and stared at his mother.

“Ted,” she repeated with a shake of her head. “I don’t know why I said that.” Then she turned to me. “Can Ted sit in on my session?”

Ted acted like this was the last place he wanted to be. I closed my eyes and began to centre myself, asking my guides to allow me to help this woman and her son. Instantly, I felt a strong connection to a male energy. “I’m getting the sense that he was a strong man. He’s making me feel strapping in my chest. Was he a personal trainer?”

“Yes,” Renee said. “That was my son, Bruce. Ted’s twin.”

“Bruce is telling me his head hurts. A blood vessel burst in his brain. It was totally unexpected. It happened in the gym. There was nothing anyone could do…”

“Yes,” Renee answered. Bruce came through with several messages for his mother and when he mentioned Ted, the young man’s ears pricked up.

“Bruce is showing me a bowling ball,” I said.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I haven’t felt much like doing that since he died. Sometimes he’d go to the bowling alley with me and shoot pool while I played in my league.”

At the end of the session, I felt compelled to stay and chat with Renee to comfort her. Being a mother myself, I could only imagine how difficult it was to lose a child.

“I don’t know why I called Ted by his brother’s name,” she said. “I’ve never done that.”

“I think that was his way of letting you know he was here,” I said. “His presence was very strong.” In fact, I saw him in my mind’s eye so clearly, I could’ve described him down to the buttons on his flannel shirt.

“I’ve never been to a medium before,” Renee said. “One of the reasons I felt comfortable about making an appointment with you is your office is located two streets away from where Bruce lived. He always told me how much he liked living in this area. Everyone is so friendly.”

I felt a chill as I bid adieu to my clients, then gazed out the window. I felt Bruce’s presence still with me. He’d lived in my neighbourhood. I might’ve seen him jogging. My cart might’ve passed his in the grocery store. Could I have said hello to him while out for one of my walks?

Down the street, a portly fellow in a Jays t-shirt was mowing his lawn. He stopped for a moment to chat with a young woman and her daughter, who was walking a beagle. The dog sniffed the man’s ankle, then sniffed around the grass as if it was hoping to find a bone. I didn’t know the woman and her daughter, but the man had helped me start my car a few winters back. I decided to walk over and say hi to them. It’s important to appreciate your neighbours. Bruce would’ve liked that.

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