promising not to work so hard anymore (I wonder where she got that one from?). It’s always wonderful to watch your own child grow and develop physically and mentally, and I was a sucker for it.
And now this would be my last opportunity to be entranced by her (don’t ask me how I knew, I just sensed it was so, and as I’ve said, my perception was becoming pretty sharp). I was sure my father was right when he said that by hanging on, “haunting” them, I’d interfere with their healing process, because part of them would not accept my death and subconsciously they would sense my presence. The mind sometimes absorbs ethereal elements that it will not always relay to the brain; such messages or unrealized perceptions are never lost though, and their influence can often be felt.
I noticed Prim, like her mother, had a photograph by her bedside. But this featured just the two of us, Prim and me, cheek-to-cheek headshots, our grins perfectly matched.
I sat with her for some time (I knew it had been a while, because when I glanced out the window, the sun was much lower in the sky). It had to be now, I thought. Staying any longer would only make it harder to leave.
Trying to dismiss the heartache that was threatening to undermine my resolve I bent forward on my knees and put my arms around Prim, careful not to encroach her small body, and touched her soft cheek with my lips.
I kissed her and she suddenly jumped. I withdrew sharply, not wanting to frighten her. She looked directly at me for a moment, but then her gaze went beyond where I knelt. She turned her head, to the left, to the right, and then behind her. For a little while, her expression was one of bewilderment and then, her tawny-flecked eyes shining, it changed to one of amazement.
“Daddy?” she whispered in awe.
Unchecked tears spoilt my vision. I knew she could not see me, nor would she hear me if I spoke. Nevertheless, I said, “Yes, Prim, it’s me, Daddy.”
No recognition in her eyes, no sign that she had heard my voice. As I knew there wouldn’t be—I was not a proper ghost.
She frowned and looked around the room again. She moved off her knees and sat on the floor, her ankles crossed as she pondered. There was still puzzlement there on her innocent face but, thankfully, no alarm.
Then she smiled and looked at our picture by the bed.
I smiled too.
48
So that’s my story. I hope it’s been of some interest to you.
Maybe, when you awaken from your out-of-body dream, you’ll have forgotten everything I’ve told you. I know I forgot dreams sometimes when I was alive.
The point is: do you believe me? Well, ask yourself why would I lie? I’ve spent too much time with you to waste on gibberish—it was dark when we met by chance and now the sky to the east is growing lighter. It doesn’t matter anyway. You can trust me or not. It’s up to you.
You might also ask yourself why this storyteller died but his soul did not go to its proper ordained place like most souls? I’m still a little puzzled by that myself, but this is how I see it.
For one, my soul was not in its body when I died—when I was murdered.
Two, there was some work for me to do in this world before I left it. I had more murders to prevent, because Moker’s killing would have gone on and on until she was caught. That’s why I found myself in Moker’s basement flat at the beginning of all this. It seems a Higher Source—at least, that’s what my father called it the last time we talked—a Higher Source guided me there. The rest was up to me.
And three, my unusual status gave me the opportunity to learn about myself and about life. I suspect many other souls get the same chance before they move on but, of course, the living wouldn’t know it. In my incorporeal form—my astral state, if you like—without flesh and blood, and all the hang-ups that go with that, I was pure mind with no physical distractions. The sensory gift we all have, but few of us use, was unfettered, my psyche was liberated. Is liberated—it’s an ongoing thing.
I’ve begun to understand and appreciate just a little about life on this planet. Not much, but way more than before. I won’t bore you with the “love is all” cliche, although that plays a big part in the understanding, and an even bigger part in our next stop. I’m assured—by my father—that it’s going to be something wonderful, but that’s all he said. No, we’re here on this earth to learn acceptance. Yep, that’s right—acceptance. Acceptance of everything that life throws at you. All the good, all the bad—everything. Doesn’t mean you don’t work—or fight—to defeat it or make the bad things good, but sometimes we have no control at all over it. That’s when you have to accept; you have no other choice.
My father told me acceptance leads to forgiveness, which is vital for progression, according to him, but I don’t believe it’s quite as simple as that—for us, anyway—and not as easy. Believe me, I know it isn’t easy. I think acceptance can lead to forgiveness, but it’s too hard for most people. How do you accept a tyrant, a child molester, a rapist—a murderer? I had to accept that last one, although I did my best to stop the killer. But it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I can be objective—forgiving—because I’m no longer part of it all. Because ultimately, in the grand scheme of things, the tribulations in this life are not so important, not compared to what happens next, the wondrous things that will come to each and every one of us.
What’s helped me begin to understand is this gradual disconnection with the world I’ve always known—the place you’re living in now. Jealousy, deceit, anger, acquisition—it’s all trivial as far as the big picture is concerned, and it fades into insignificance when you’re totally free of those imperfections yourself. That’s why I’ve forgiven Andrea, Oliver and Sydney. My mother too. As for my father, it seems there was nothing to forgive. I’ve accepted the emotional pain they caused me. It isn’t easy, nor that simple, but the more my presence here wanes, the easier and simpler it becomes.
The only person I’ve not yet fully forgiven is myself, because I had some of those imperfections or faults I mentioned. But I’m working on it.
You know, even Alexandra Moker should have accepted her disfigurement, but unfortunately it—and the lifetime of rejection she suffered—corrupted her mind and soul. I think she’ll get another chance though, but it’s only a guess.
I don’t expect to be around much longer. But that’s okay. I’ve seen a lot. I’ve finally taken excursions into the countryside and even though I’m becoming more distant from this world, the true beauty of nature took my breath away (metaphorically speaking, yet again!).
I’ve spent ages in art galleries, really looking at paintings and sculptures, really absorbing them and, for the first time, truly appreciating the artists’ intent.
I’ve explored famous old buildings and some spectacular new ones, museums too, gaining insights into other times, other civilizations.
I went to the palace to see the queen again—she wasn’t in the first time. Very tedious, not the kind of life you and I would like, I promise you.
I’ve sat in parliament and, believe me, most MPs are just as lazy and self-important as we think they are.
One dark and beautiful night I tried to reach the stars, but never even got as far as any helicopter might fly. Something pulled me back and I knew it wasn’t gravity; it was as if I’d reached my limits and my own will would not take me further. But I saw stars and planets as I’d never seen them before, zillions of them, each one a separate dazzling jewel.
I’ve seen over our world from a new perspective and I can assure you, it’s more fabulous than you could ever imagine.
Now time’s running out for me.
I can feel myself slowly vanishing, my mind gradually becoming disenfranchised from this place. Look at my arm. It’s almost transparent. And by the way you’re squinting at me, I suspect the rest of me is disappearing too. It’s okay. I feel ready to leave.
Am I afraid? My destiny was daunting to me, but that’s not so anymore. In fact, I’m eager to go on. There are many more answers on the other side as well as more mysteries. I know, because not only have I become acutely sensitive to this world and its meaning, but I’m already beginning to perceive something of the next. I think it’s going to be incredible.
