Someone you loved dearly has died and you are bereft. There is a hole in your heart and life and you don’t know how to even begin to carry on. You are going to be doing one of two things. Trying to pick up the pieces and start to rebuild a life in the knowledge that you loved one has gone forever.

Or you are searching for answers. For a sign that your loved one is still close and hasn’t abandoned you. For a clue that they can still be a part of your life even though they aren’t physically with you anymore. Or you seek the permission to laugh again – even love again.

You may visit a clairvoyant for a private reading. You’ll remove your wedding rings or any trace of clues and hope with every fibre of your being that the stranger before you can prove to you that death is not the end. Or you might decide to visit a spiritualist church where you will sit in a service, listening to messages being given to others and willing the mediums eyes in your direction, petrified at the same time.

There are many people who feel that readings and services like this are cruel – taking advantage of people in a vulnerable state. I understand that and I agree that unfortunately there are people out there who will spot a money-making opportunity out of others sadness and desperation to find some peace.

But I have also seen, and experienced, events that I simply can’t explain.  As a teenager, I had some very weird experiences that freaked me out a bit. Like the mug of toothbrushes that flew over the shower rail and hit me in the face when I was the only person in the house (Mum had to sit on the toilet every time I showered for quite a while afterwards!). But I never had a sign from anyone I loved. Probably because no-one I loved dearly had died.

Until 2001.

One night in September 2001, I called in on my grandparents after a very strange urge to do so. Read the freaky account of what compelled me to visit in why you should always trust your intuition to find out the full story. It will give you goose bumps!

As I left to get some rest before a trip the next day to Scotland my grandad said to me “I’ll be with you all the way”. Fifteen minutes later, he died.

Thirteen years later.

Fast forward thirteen years and I am on holiday in Lanzarote with my 9-year-old twin boys.  Its our first holiday as a trio and I have been excited and terrified in equal measure. Harry is autistic and struggles in new surroundings. Taking him abroad is about as confusing as it gets for him but it’s a great holiday and we are all coping well. Walking back to the hotel one evening after a meal, Oliver is trailing behind me and Harry. I call over my shoulder

“Come on Oliver, are you with us?” to which he replies

“I told you – I’ll be with you all the way”

I stand dead where I am and with my hairs on end and my eyes as wide as saucers I say gently “where did that come from?”

Oliver just shrugs and says “I dunno. It just came into my head” and carries on walking past me and Harry. I am speechless.

Oliver never met my grandad and certainly didn’t know the story of my final hour with him. I honestly believed that it was my granddads way of saying that he was with us and proud of me.

Fast forward 3 more years to 2017. It is Father’s Day and my mum has shared a memory of my grandad on Facebook. I sit and look at it for a minute with a huge smile on my face and then I go upstairs to get ready for the day. As I am coming back downstairs Oliver calls me from the lounge.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be with you all the way you know”

He doesn’t know why he’s said it. It doesn’t even make sense as a sentence on its own. He doesn’t remember ever saying it before and shrugs again before returning to being engrossed in his iPad game.

I have never told Oliver the story of my granddad’s last words because I don’t ever want to doubt that those words have ever come from anywhere other than my grandad. I am sure there is a scientist somewhere who could prove to me that Oliver has somehow subliminally or subconsciously absorbed the tale and just regurgitates the part I need to hear. But I prefer my truth.

Some people believe that a white feather is a sign that a loved one is near. Others think that the robin red breast is the carrier of love from the other side. Many people report experiences that no-one else can explain and actually I don’t think they should.

I think a scientific explanation strips the event of its value. Maybe it is just a coincidence, maybe it’s a total flook but if it turns a frown upside down then I think it should be respected. If messages from the other side free people to live, laugh and love their lives again then I’m all for it.

As for me, I continue through my life with a conviction that both of my grandparents are close to me and watching me raise my boys. I strive to make them proud knowing that they are both with me. All the way.

I’d really love to know if you have ever experienced anything similar!

Chat soon

Charlie xx