The three sisters.
The first time he comes to visit it is in the time between restless slumber and awakening.
I am surprised to see him. He has been gone almost 20 years. I did not expect to see him in my dreams, let alone this semi-awakening state.
He smiles, his white teeth appearing between his black mustache, the impish almost dimple on the left side of his cheek puckering-in like the stem side of an apple.
He does not say hello. He does not even seem surprised at my surprise to see him.
“I’ve been worried about you,” my brother says.
“You’re dead,” I blurt out. In retrospect it might have been a little rude on my part but when a dead brother comes to visit unexpectedly, thinking straight is not my forte. Anyway, what’s he going to do about it? Not like he was still around and could whip me with a towel or stick me in a closet as was his yen when we were young and locked in sibling disputes over who was boss of who.
He is older than me. The only son, or as I used to like to say, “The son for whom the sun rises and sets.” Yeah. I wasn’t too mature where my brother was concerned.
My brother and his wife died in a car accident March 27th in 1997. There was a lot of angst and anger and sorrow and unfinished business in the wake of their passing. Having him pop in now, years later, without so much as a hello or even a postcard from the other side feels a tad disorienting.
And for that matter, who knew ghosts could worry?
“Not relevant,” he responds when I ask him about worrying ghosts. “I’m worried about you. You need to take better care of yourself.”
And then, he’s gone. Poof. Just like that.
But I do not question that he was real. That he really did come to visit. He was there.
The next time he comes back I am in the shower.
“Excuse me!” I squeal when he makes his presence known. “I’m in the shower!”
“So what?” he says without batting a single one of the jet black eyelashes surrounding his big brown eyes. “Spirits can’t see human matter. They only see the essence of what matters most. Did you get my message?”
“What? That you’re worried about me?” I want to shrug him off. To ignore him like I always tried to do in our growing up years.
My brother can be persistent and insistent. He can be dogged in his approach to just about anything. When we were young he once dragged me out of a discotheque in Germany where I was not supposed to be. Something about being 16 and underage he told me. I did not want to hear him and tried to go back. He got all his friends to come and make sure I didn’t.
“Yeah, I heard you.” I reply quickly reaching for a towel. I don’t care if spirits only see what matters most. He is my brother.
“Look. I’m not here about your vanity. Pride means nothing after you’re dead. I am worried about you. You need to take better care of yourself.”
And once again, he’s gone. Poof. Just like that.
Later, I tell my sisters about our encounter.
I heard his voice, my eldest sister tells us. Just the other day.
I wonder why he’s visiting, my middle sister asks.
It’s Christmas, I reply. George always loved Christmas.
And he did.
Just as he always loved us. No matter what. No matter where. No matter how difficult our encounters. He always loved us.
My brother came to visit. Twice.
In death as in life. My brother always had something to say, something to tell me about how I was behaving, or mis-behaving. He always wanted the best for me even when I thought he was being a pain, a pill, an interfering older brother who wanted to control me and my life.
I want to ignore him, just as I always wanted to when he was alive and pestering me with his silly game of ‘name that tune’ or thinking he can beat me at Scrabble.
I want to tell him I hear him. Finally.
I’ve tried every which way to re-conjure him up in my mind, and I can’t. No matter what thoughts I create, I cannot feel his presence though I can still hear him laughing all the way from the other side.
I’m hoping he reads my blog so he will know — Message delivered. Loud and clear, bro.
And then, I smile. He doesn’t need to read my blog to know I got the message. He’s watching over me, just as he’s watching over all the ones he loves.
It is his way.
Dare Boldly 
hmm ….
perhaps too much pizza or coffee late at night?
to sleep, perchance to dream … visions of Christmas past
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Nope. I don’t think his presence had anything to do with what I ate Mark. 🙂
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He must care a lot to try so hard to get his message to you. I think you better listen.
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Thank you Mary. what a lovely way to look at it. I will listen! 🙂
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Louise, that was beautiful. I remember his passing, and how incredibly sad I was. I remember him so well from school. When he worked in the record department at the LX with Gary Mineault, he used to put records aside that he thought I’d like. When I went in, he would take me into the back room, and I’d pick out the ones I wanted. Whenever I think of him, that’s the memory that comes to mind. Not the accident that took their lives. Listen to him. He obviously still loves you enough to want you to be well. How lucky you are for that. (I wonder if he and Gary meet often on the other side. He, too, has been gone almost 20 years.)
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Oh Lori! thank you. What a lovely memory to share and I sure hope his daughter, Kristi, read your comment when she visited! She loves to get remembrances of her dad.
And yes, I bet the two of them have some good chuckles together on the other side!
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Wow, what an awesome story ! Thanks a lot for sharing this. He must care about you a lot when he comes through to talk to you.
This reminds me of the extraordinary book The Afterlife of Billy Fingers where the alive sister is visited frequently by her dead brother, and he tells her all kinds of amazing things about the afterlife and sends her all kinds of signs and synchronicities.
Best wishes (and hopefully you take good care of yourself),
Karin
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Thanks Karin — I shall go look for that book. I’ve not heard of it before. Sounds lovely! And yes, I will take good care of myself. 🙂
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Louise, I have tears in my eyes with gratitude for the preciousness of your post, for your sharing your experience and for you listening to your brother’s advice. I’m sending a big, heartfelt hug to you. I have had similar encounters in my life with loved ones who have passed so I believe and I am truly happy to hear that ghosts can’t see us when we aren’t clothed! LOL I would have worried too. :O) Keep shining and sharing dear friend. ♥
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Thank you dear Yvonne, for sharing your light here! I think our spirits are eternal — and because our spirits can only know love, that is all they can leave behind, and be in our lives.
You keep shining too dear friend! You are a wonderful light!
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Oh how lovely to have a visit from you brother, I am sure it was a shock but a nice shock I reckon, I have no doubt our love ones watch over us and worry about us after they have passed away
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it was a nice shock Joanne! The best kind. 🙂
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Wow – that gave me goosebumps and I love the way you wrote about it with such humour! Louise I am taking a bit of a blog break until January in order to sort of catch up with myself. I wish you and yours a beautiful Christmas. Lots of love Julie xxx
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Julie, I hope your break fills you with love and tender care and time to breathe. It sounds to me like you are taking good care of yourself! How delightful. Lots of love to you dear one. ❤
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It is wonderful that you felt your brother’s presence at this time.
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It is Elizabeth! Thank you.
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This is so nice! Love it! I seem to get more parental advice when I dream of him, once a dad, always a dad. 😉 xo
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Haha Kristi — how like your dad. I hope you read Lori’s comment below. She shares the essence of your father in her story — generous, thoughtful and always looking out for others. Hugs and love to you dear Kristi! ❤ ❤ ❤
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Wow. My heart is racing. This is just magical. What a gift. Right now, we do believe that Lina’s grandmother is making a visit to us/her. How incredible, disturbing, comforting, confusing, enlightening, etc. it is to feel the presence of a loved one.
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