Changed - Part 1

So I know my first two posts were of the poetic nature, but that is not what I intend for the majority of the content to be here. Although, since I am poetic by my very nature I can presume that it will be something that happens from time to time. I am primarily here because I am someone who loves to share information, and it lights up my soul to tell stories. I want to give people the chills, thrills, and all the feels! So, if you are ready for a series of true tales that changed me and my whole world, please read on. Honestly, these events are the root reason as to why I have been motivated to start this blog. But before I begin, I want to give you a very big THANK YOU! for giving me an opportunity to share my story with you. I hope it brings you some peace and hope if you need it 🤟

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There is no beautiful way to begin this, so I'm just going to say it. My grandpa died when I was 15. He and I were extremely close. His name was Earnest William, or E.W. Cavender, and he was everything you would want in a grandpa. This man would take me on walks, read books with me, let me climb him like he was a jungle-gym (when I was little enough), and we played games all the time, specifically Dominoes and Monopoly. He had funny sayings he repeated often. One that particularly stands out in my memory was, "Getchur gee getchur guy get your constanti, get your nople, get your pople, get your Constantinople." Grandpa was just silly all the time.

He was easily one of my favorite people to be around, but oddly enough, I always was bothered with the way he smelled. I mean, I was used to it, but he definitely had a strange smell about him - I believe it was a type of coolant or some chemical from the machine tools he sold. They permeated his skin. If you want to know what he smelled like, go grab one of those S.O.S. dish scrubbers, and that metallic twang scent is pretty dang close.

He died in the hospital 20 years ago this past Thanksgiving from complications after a heart attack. Something that I really struggled with and was very angry about was that my grandpa had actually felt like a heart attack was coming because he had had one previously. He knew those similar sensations, but a doctor told him he was okay and probably just had a bug. Clearly, he missed something.

At 15, of course, I thought the doctor should have lost his license, and we should have sued the heck out of him, but my grandpa would hear nothing of it. He had no desire, even though I think he knew he would die afterwards, to retaliate against that doctor. He felt like it was the Christ-like thing to do. Forgiveness was the path that he chose to take.

I admired him for his ability to just take his demise so gracefully and without a note or glimmer of bitterness. I was also, on the other hand, pissed. I hadn't ever lost anyone that I was close to before, and I felt like he was robbed of his time here with us - that we were robbed of our time with him. Not to mention, my grandma. My grandpa worshipped her and doted on her like something out of a movie. He would come dancing up to her shaking his hips and ask my sister and me, "Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" or something of that nature, all the time.

I didn't feel like any of us would know how to go on without him. So, of course, right after he passed, we were all at their house to help my grandma and spend time with her. While everyone was hanging out, I decided that I needed to go through his clothes and some other of his belongings. I headed for his closet. His smell was all over his things. In his clothing, it felt as if I were just smelling him, even though it had been washed. I went to grab his golf hat and found a few of his white hairs in there, and I just had to take a really large inhale. The scent flooded my senses and I burst into tears. I realized in that moment that I wouldn't be able to share any more time with him - his smell was all that was left... and soon that would be gone too. I was heartbroken.

Everyone else was sad, of course, but they were like, he is in Heaven and having the time of his life right now. So there was an air of "this is all okay" amongst the sadness and I wasn't feeling that. I was bitter. How could they KNOW he is okay? What proof did they have? And why did this doctor just get to go about living his happy life while mine felt wrecked and my grandpa's life was gone altogether? And to top off all my rage and sadness, I felt the worst guilt imaginable for not having the same faith everyone else had. Grandpa would be so ashamed of me is all I could think.

So, one night, I was up late in my room worrying over what had come of my grandpa. I had done this almost nightly at this point I think. I am not sure how long after he passed this was, to be honest - maybe 2 or so months after? I do, however, remember all of the following very well.

I was crying and I prayed to Jesus to just let me know he was okay. I also apologized profusely for feeling like I needed proof of his well-being. I felt like I should know that he was with God, but I was just really struggling with it. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, my grandpa's very distinct smell was right in front of me.

I couldn't believe what I was smelling, and I had to make sure I wasn't imagining this. But there was more than a smell - there was what I can only explain as a charge in the room. All my hair stood up and I could just feel like there was somebody there with me - someone that smelled identically like my grandpa. So, I genuinely had to ask, "Grandpa?" aloud. There was no sound or response, but the smell stayed strong. I tried to move around my bed a bit and see if I could find where it was coming from because, rationally speaking, I knew this was not normal.

Once my mind started realizing This is not normal, I got a pretty scared, but the very second that emotion transitioned to fear, the smell left completely, and the room went right back to normal. Electric charge gone too. The fact that it was gone right when I became frightened really confirmed for me that it truly was my grandpa, and that a prayer was answered for me that night. He definitely wouldn't want to scare me. He gave me just enough to let me know he was still there.

I did not imagine the smell, and I didn't have that ever happen again, nor have I ever noticed another "phantom smell" in my life. I did, however, completely believe after that experience that my Grandpa did go to Heaven, and I was blessed to have a moment of confirmation of his surviving soul. I knew from that point on, that I was changed. I had experienced something that I couldn't rationally explain that came at a moment of such grief for me - a prayer had been answered.

How could I not be changed after something like that? I carried that with me through the loss of other people I loved dearly, and it gave me great peace knowing that it wasn't the end of them. I know that was a rare experience, and not one that has happened to me with anyone else I have known that has passed. I think we must have some sort of connection because that wasn't the last time he came through to me.

I will write a separate blog for that experience. It is a story on its own, and one in which members of my family, as well as my husband, also shared part of. That one ended up changing all of us involved.

So, my soul friend, whoever you may be, please know that if you lost someone, they are not gone. If you never experienced anything, don't lose faith that they aren't there. They are. They just still have a life, albeit a different one, and they want you to go live yours.

God bless and much love!