I'm a reluctant speaker. I've been asked a number of times to give talks to various groups of people. Not always about writing, some people have asked me to give talks about, ghosts, tarot cards, embroidery and a few other subjects.
Being a shy, retiring type I've always refused their kind offers.
I thought that I would have a virtual talk and see the type of questions that I might possibly receive after my talk.
Today's subject is about my book, Whatever Happened After Birmingham Girls. Here we get the best of both worlds because I am reading an extract from the book about the hauntings I've experienced since my dog died in July 2013.
Extract
Early in
2013 I could sense him failing, and some nights I would cry praying he would
not begin to suffer or the inevitable would happen. He kept going, still
enjoying his food, but I knew deep inside that he would not live the year out.
One night
settling down to sleep the inevitable tears started, when suddenly I heard my
best friend’s voice say, “Don’t worry, Cal, I will look after him for you.” My
friend had died two years previously. My tears stopped, and she repeated what
she had said. Although I was shocked, to say the least, it made sense to me
that she would care for Boyden, she loved animals and when she was alive she
had four dogs and a cat. Like me she had always been an animal lover. My sister
who had died a few years ago never kept pets, so I understood why my friend had
spoken to me.
Ever after
that, whenever the tears came in the following months, I would hear her, “Don’t
cry, Cal. I promise I will take care of him for you.”
Now, please
do not think that I hear voices in my head. Whenever I say I hear someone who
has died speak to me, what actually happens is that I have an impression of
their voice in my head. This is the best way I know of explaining it. I have an
instinctive thought of who it is communicating with me. Or maybe I am listening
to my inner voice. I honestly don’t know. The main thing is it comforted me.
And I did
stop crying. I knew he would be safe in her hands, wouldn’t he?
Time passed
and I became more aware of how Boyden’s health was failing. It was hard to
accept. In fact my husband wouldn’t accept it. He would deny anything was wrong
with the little fellow. I felt terrible about this, I considered I was facing
up to the inevitable, as heartbreaking as it was; I needed him to as well, for
his own sake.
Some nights
I found it increasingly difficult to sleep. I would keep telling myself to
enjoy the time we had left together, to concentrate on the here and now, not
afterwards. I would hear my friend’s voice telling me everything would
eventually come right, but it would take time. It helped knowing that she was
there, even when in the cold light of day I knew it was my imagination. I
wouldn’t cry. Looking back perhaps I should have done, maybe afterwards I would
not have been so ill. Who knows, it might still have been as terrible.I’m not going to pretend it’s been
easy since losing Boyden on the 7th July 2013. It hasn’t. I think I cried
non-stop for the first fortnight. Yes, I have his sister; she is and always has
been a joy.
I loved him so much and I always will. Life has been terribly sad. He was such
an enormous part of my life that I find it difficult to accept that I will
never see him again. I often wonder if the sightings, the sounds, the feeling
that he is here still are simply because we want him to be. I’ve listed the
happenings below. But if they are my imagination how is it that Sophie still
stares at something which I can’t see and wags her tail, looking unbelievably
happy? Maybe it’s not my imagination; perhaps he is here in spirit. Why
shouldn’t he be here? After all, he was a much-loved family member. Why should
death take him away forever?
I will always love him; he was one of the best
friends I ever had. It’s so hard not to cry at his absence. It is a little
easier now seven months on, but it only takes a sudden memory or a mention of
him, and I still start crying.
I don’t visit our walks so often now; it hurts
me far too much. Memories of him are everywhere. Each bend of a path brings the
hope that he might just be there lying in wait waiting to run up to me wagging
his tail, with a huge smile on his face, and saying “hello’ to me. If only.
Sundays became terrible days for me. After all,
he left us forever on a Sunday. They were unbearable for a number of months. I
would cry non-stop, grieving for him. It suddenly hit me one day – he didn’t
just die on a Sunday, he had lived for thirteen years of Sundays, and he was
still here with me. Next year, the day he died will not be a Sunday, nor the
following year. He could have died on any day. True I still do not visit our
favourite walks on a Sunday, but that’s more to do with the mountain bikers
riding along the narrow lanes. I would hate for us to knock one of them off
their bikes. Also, the place can get crowded. We now visit the shops.
I’ve reached the conclusion that there can be
no goodbyes to our beloved relatives or pets, only a whispered “hello” every
morning, and a fond “goodnight”. I have Boyden’s picture on my screensaver,
also on my phone, and they will stay there forever. His photograph is in my locket
and I had a hologram made from his photograph. He is always with me.
A few sightings of Boyden
On 6th August 2013 Sophie was lying by the
open kitchen door. As I walked past her I called her to me, she was looking
into the adjoining dining room wagging her tail. She ignored me! I asked her
again to come to me; she kept wagging her tail and staring into the dining
room.
I thought
my husband had come home, so I walked into the dining room; there was no one
there, but Sophie continued happily wagging her tail and ignoring me. I should
say here that she is normally the most obedient of dogs, even if she does not
want to do something that I ask her to, she will do it, albeit reluctantly. It
was strange. I walked into the lounge, no husband. He normally arrives home
about 4.15–4.30pm; the time of this occurrence was 2.45pm. Still she carried on
looking into the dining room and thumping her tail with joy. I walked past her
and again asked her to come to me. I turned and looked at her. Suddenly, she turned her head round; her eyes were
clearly following something that I could not see. After a few minutes, she
stopped wagging her tail, looked at me, got up and followed me into the back
office. It was a strange experience.
For the
last weeks of his life, Boyden lay on the chair in the dining room. I think he
lay in there because it is the darkest room downstairs. I have not moved or
used the chair since.
Three
difficult months passed. He walked through my dreams; he was in my thoughts all
day long. It was a terrible time emotionally for me. I found it so hard not to
cry. Of course, now I realise it isn’t wrong to cry, it’s human. It would be
strange indeed if I had not cried. After having my friend beside me for so
long, what normal human being would not miss them?
I also
found myself avoiding people who had normally stopped and fussed him when we were out and about,
walking or shopping. I dreaded getting upset should they talk about him. It is
difficult not to appear rude in these circumstances.
A
remarkable bond sometimes develops between an owner and their dog and no one on
earth can ever break it. It’s difficult for people who do not own a pet to
understand the depth of understanding that can exist between an owner and their
dog. Some dogs develop a high sensitivity to your every thought and mood. In
fact, they almost seem to know what you are going to do or say before it
happens.
I kept
trying to accept that I will never see him again. It was also difficult for my
husband. At times Sophie would run around the house and garden looking for her
brother. She would even go to his favourite chair and stand in front of it
wagging her tail. I wondered if she could see him. I don’t know and never will.
I always go to bed fairly early so that I can read for an hour or
two; Boyden and Sophie would always come and lie beside me in the bedroom. When
I was ready to go to sleep I would take them downstairs to their own beds.
Since Boyden died we follow the same routine and Sophie still comes upstairs
with me, except that as she misses him so much she sleeps upstairs now.
One night my husband took Sophie downstairs so she could visit the
garden. I popped downstairs to collect a magazine. I was walking back upstairs
when I suddenly heard doggy footsteps behind me. I thought, Sophie was quick, when I
felt a rush of wind go past me. I knew immediately that it was Boyden because
there was no sign of Sophie, just the silence. It was his way of saying, “I’m
still here.” There could be no other reason for it to happen.
My husband has told me on more than one occasion that he has heard
Boyden walking around downstairs. It’s strange he should say this, because he
has always said he does not disbelieve in ghosts, but has never seen or heard
one. Boyden developed a strange way of walking towards the end of his life. He
dragged his feet. I was forever saying, “Pick your feet up, boy.”
One day at
around mid-day I was cleaning the lounge window. Sophie was as far as I was
aware in the kitchen waiting for her lunch. I suddenly heard Boyden groan, and
a small shuffle. He always did this when he lay down in later years. I know it
was him. I glanced round immediately. No Sophie, no Boyden. Just thousands of
dust motes dancing on the air. It was strange.
I keep a
small amount of his fur in my purse. It’s another comfort to me. As I mentioned
walking the same walks without him is heartbreaking, at times I cannot face
going, there are far too many memories. Slowly I began to realise that if he
were here we would still go out and about every day, and as I firmly believe he
will always be with me I must continue the daily walks with him (in spirit) and
his sister. It’s only fair to her anyway. Every time I leave the house I say to
myself, “Come on, Boyden.” I don’t say it aloud as I don’t want to upset my husband.
I say “goodnight” to him when I go to bed, and plump his cushion
up on his chair for him. One morning there was an indentation in the cushion,
it looked as if he had been lying on it.
Its 1st November 2013, yesterday was Halloween.
Tradition says that at midnight, the veil between this world and the next is at
its most fragile. I wondered whether any of my loved ones would be able to make
contact.
Midnight came and went. I received not at a sign. At 12.15 I
thought I saw a movement on Sophie’s dog blanket. She – Sophie – had gone to
lie in another part of the bedroom at just gone midnight. On seeing the
movement, I blinked, but could not see anything.
The next
morning, when I looked at Sophie’s blanket I saw that there were two white
feathers lying on it. To me these tiny white feathers are always a sign of
contact from someone in spirit. As they were both on the dog’s blanket I can
only assume they were a sign from my dog, Boyden.
I felt a
warm glow knowing that he had visited me. Not that he has ever left me or ever
will.
Often when I was out walking with Boyden, he
would suddenly jump, and move away from me. It took me a long time to realise
why he did this. I realised that it was more than likely because my dog Connie
was pushing him out of the way. There is simply no other explanation.
One night about a month ago, December 2013, I
was walking through the dining room when I glanced back; to my amazement I saw
Boyden standing looking at me. I was so shocked. It was so unexpected that I
gasped aloud. The sighting lasted a few seconds. Since then I have never been
aware of him in the house or seen him. It could be that was his last visit.
Since I wrote the above paragraph, I have been
aware of his presence again. How could I think that he would leave me forever?
Earlier this month, February 2014, Sophie was lying beside me as I was writing
my book when all of a sudden I heard Boyden cough. I jumped exactly at the same
time as Sophie did. She leapt up and ran into the kitchen. I sat stunned,
listening to her running up and down the kitchen and then in the dining room. I
thought it was quite incredible. Needless to say, we were the only ones in the
house at the time.
On the 8th February Sophie once
again was following something with her eyes, and wagging her tail. I gazed
around the room but could not see anyone in the room. Sophie undoubtedly saw
someone or something. I can’t put that down to my imagination!
Maybe I imagined seeing and hearing him. I
don’t know. Perhaps it is because we are in such emotional turmoil when our
loved ones go that sheer longing actually brings them back to us? I don’t know.
I do know that everything I have written about hearing and seeing him is true.
I find it
difficult going out on my own without him. I worry about the panic attacks
returning. Most times now I go out with my husband. Sophie is a difficult dog
to walk on a lead as although she is not as big as Boyden, she is strong and
pulls, causing me headaches. I do try to take her out on my own, but it is
hard.
It’s helped
writing about Boyden, and our walks, and in the end we have to accept that our
pets are only given to us for a few short years. I was so lucky to have him.
Will I ever
have another dog? Who knows what the future holds. No, not at this moment in
time I don’t think so. I tried, it didn’t work out, and the pain of him not
being here ten months on is still unbearable. My heart still aches for him and
it always will.
As another
small memorial to Boyden, I painted the slabs with his name on. I can see it
through the window where I sit typing every day.
I also hung
a wind chime by my window. It’s a real comfort to me. Every time I hear it I am
reminded that he is nearby and thinking of us.
I had a bit of a blip when the thought passed through my mind that
perhaps there is no heaven. I thought, if there is no heaven then we will never
see our loved ones again. I soon closed my mind to that thought. I know that
when the time comes I will meet him and the other loves of my life again. They
will be there to greet me. In life as in death, there are no endings, only
beginnings.
Boyden
You’re Not There
I reach out to touch you, but you’re
not there
I call your name; it hangs in the
empty air
I touch your lead; I look at your
empty chair
You’re not there
My days are long and sad
You’re not there
My fingers ache to stroke your soft
fur
You’re not there
My arms ache to cuddle you forever
You’re not there
Because you’ve gone to a place
Where I’m not there
Boyden 2001–2013
RIP my wonderful,
faithful friend
Until we meet again
Question Time
Do you believe in ghosts?
I do. So many people, including myself have had sightings of them they are obviously are all around us.
How do you know you are actually seeing a ghost?
The image is ethereal, it's not solid, it is a person or an animal, but I know immediately that I am seeing a ghost.
Have you ever actually spoken to a ghost?
Only in my mind. I've never stood face to face with a ghost and had a conversation.
Do other members of your family believe in ghosts?
My husband never did until Boyden died. Since our dog died my husband has heard his footsteps in the house and been aware of his presence.
Do you ever doubt what you've seen?
Yes, I always question whether it is all simply my imagination at play. Maybe a trick of the eye or perhaps I'm dozing! But as mentioned there are so many different happenings around the world that to my mind ghosts do exist. If that's the correct way of expressing it!
Available from Amazon Kindle
