Recently I went to see Clint Eastwood's new movie, The Hereafter. It moved me for all the right reasons. After my dad passed in 1993, I too went to see mediums and psychics, looking for a message, comfort or a little piece of hope.
One guy I went to was a hostile medium. He "channeled" messages, supposedly from my dad, that were all about anger. Dad was pissed off and I had to do something to make things right. Hostile Medium rambled on in a strange Scottish accent, (Why do so many channelers have strange Scottish accents? Do all channeled entities have to take a Berlitz course to perfect their Scottish accents?) I felt like my head was splitting open, but I figured out what I needed to do. Take four Advil, have a glass of wine and go to a different medium.
The next medium I went to was James Van Praagh. Anyone who knows anything about live people who talk to dead people, knows that Van Praagh is the real deal. James knew details about my dad, his death, his messages, the will and our family dynamics. Yes, this was before Google and James had no time to research who I was. His message from my dad was one of hope and love and reaching out to one person in particular he felt he had wronged. (Not me.) James encouraged me to be open to signs from my dad. So I was. And I got one.
My dad would gleefully approach every tourist taking a photo of their significant other, and offer to take their picture, together. Afterwards he'd say, "Hah! If they only knew this is how I acquired my expensive camera collection."
Soon after dad died, my ex walked out on me. The combination of death and abandonment was too much, and I was struck by anxiety and panic attacks. I prayed for help. I prayed for guidance. I prayed for a message from my dad.
One day I ventured to the local outdoor mall just to try and get out of the house. Not succumb to agoraphobia. When a tourist rushed up to me, thrust his camera in my face and asked in broken English if I would take a picture of he and his wife, together. Thanks for the message, dad.
I wrote about that experience. My article was called, "Camera Moments" and was published in an anthology entitled Soul Moments: Marvelous Stories of Synchronicity-Meaningful Coincidences from a Seemingly Random World edited by Phil Cousineau.
Seventeen years after my dad died, my first novel was just published by Krill Press. Cupcakes, Lies, and Dead Guys is a comedic mystery that features, hmm... a protagonist with empathic ability who ends up being haunted by the know-it-all ghost of the guy who ruined her marriage.
So here's to the funny guy who always inspired me. Thanks, Dad. I will always love you. You're in my book's dedication. I can't think of a better way to start my new blog. Tag, you're it.
John Lewis DuMond
August 9, 1924 - June 9, 1993.