I was asked recently by a woman I’m going to call Rachel to try to reach her Grandmother Bea. This is the story of what happened.
Rachel told me she had been very, very close to her Granny Bea. I spent a few nights trying to connect to “Rachel’s Grandmother Beatrice”, thinking Bea was short for Beatrice. When I finally did connect, I got the following images:
A mountain road, winding through pine trees. It was very alpine-like and the road was very narrow, possibly a train track.
A hospital bed
After these two, something interesting happened, the images stopped being images, static and still, and became little short moving pictures. That had not happened before. I was fascinated. Did this mean something, or were my skills just developing? I didn’t know, still dont actually, but I digress…
A pair of hands were holding a heart shaped box. The hands moved away and a second pair came in and opened the lid of the box.
I was in the passenger seat of a moving vehicle driving through a smallish city with pale buildings. There were cars and trucks parked alongside the road and I could see a town square at one point. I tried to see a license plate but was unable to do so.
A man in a uniform was very close to me, maybe a cop or soldier. He was leaning over and into me, as though I was on the ground, and there was a shape that looked like a dog barking in my face.
These images did not mean anything to Rachel. That frustrated me. It was the first time someone had said to me, “Nothing is making any sense to me.” I mean, the images had been so strong, so clear…I went through a night of really doubting myself, I’ll tell you. But the next night I tried again and got one thing: the number sixty-eight. That was all, just sixty-eight. Then I went to sleep. Right before I woke that morning, I had a dream-vision. Rachel’s daughter “Sarah” appeared and said very directly to me, “Remember the date!”. Then I woke up. I could not get the dream of Sarah out of my head and it made me think that the number that had appeared, sixty-eight, had more significance than I thought, so I asked Rachel about it. Again, it didn’t mean much to her, but I asked her to get me some more information about Bea. It occured to me that this family was Jewish and perhaps Bea had come over from Europe during WW2. The images I had gotten of a soldier, a train, a European style city…could all be traced to that. Here is some excerpts from the emails we shared afterwards:
Her: Granny was born in Canada…lost her mom at some point and had a stepmother…Her maiden name was —–..Had 4 siblings, —-, —-, —- and —-. She came to CA when her husband died. I have to find out her birthday… I am not a blood relative…my mother married my step father, Granny’s son..but Granny and I were as close as you can get…
Me: And her full name was Beatrice —– ?
Her: Bessie was her name, I believe.
Me: Hey…I had a thought last night…bear with me, I want to see if I’m on the right track before I tell you. Your family is Jewish, right? From where? When did they come over here to the states?
Her: East Europe…Russia, Poland, Germany.
Rachel also gave me the names of her grandparents on her mother’s side. The Grandmothers name was “Sarah” like Rachel’s daughter. Ha! I thought. I WAS on the right track. It had occured to me that I had asked for Rachel’s grandmother, not her step-grandmother, and that it was entirely possible that the woman I had reached was not Bea at all, whom I had mistakenly called Beatrice. Now, seeing that her real grandmother was Sarah, and it had been the younger Sarah that had shown up in my dream, I thought I’d found the right person. Turns out I was still wrong. The elder Sarah had not come from Europe at the right time frame to be the one sending me those images. I was frustrated, but still knew there was something there I had to figure out. I just knew it. Everything was too clear, too strong to be nothing. I had this feeling that all the clues to the mystery were right there, I just had to fit the pieces together. For that I needed one last bit of information. Rachel provided it the next day.
It turned out that Rachel’s grandmother on her Father’s side was named Beatrice. And she was born in Russia in 1904 and moved to the US shortly after. 1904 was the tail end of the Russian pograms against the Jewish people. They were fleeing Russia in droves and would have traveled by train or wagon over mountain roads, gone through cities to get to port, and been harrassed by soldiers and dogs. I had asked for a Beatrice, Rachel’s grandmother, not knowing that Rachel’s blood grandmother was named Beatrice and that the Granny Bea Rachel had wanted to reach was actually Bessie. I had in fact reached exactly whom I’d called for, just not whom I’d thought I was calling.
So now we knew who’d we’d reached, but not why, nor what the number sixty-eight meant.
I spoke to Rachel over the phone about all of this. I asked her when Beatrice had died. She thought maybe 1968 or 1969. I said that could be our sixty-eight connection then if so. Then we talked about Beatrice and Rachel’s history. The full story was that Beatrice had looked after a very young Rachel until Rachel’s mother and father divorced and Rachel and her mom went to live elsewhere. Rachel never really saw Beatrice much after that so they ended up not being very close. But that as a child she had known her grandmother Beatrice had loved her very much. I told Rachel that if I had been a grandmother to a beloved young child whom I lost before age ten to my son’s messy divorce, I would be heartbroken and feel like I had unfinished business still regarding said grandchild. My suspicion is that Beatrice jumped at the chance to come through to me to let Rachel know how very much she WAS loved by this grandmother as well as by Granny Bea. Beatrice made darn sure I was able to identify her and not mix her up with Bea by giving me so many images that were so particular to her and insisting that I remember the date, and the number sixty eight. I had been trying to reach Bea since learning that her real name was Bessie, but had been unable to do so. I explained to Rachel that most likely, Bea did not have any unfinished business with Rachel that she needed to take care of, she never questioned her relationship with Rachel, she knew that Rachel knew how much Bea loved her and was loved in return. Beatrice, on the other hand, had not been given that opportunity in life and so was happy to take the chance now. By the time we hung up, I believe she was feeling a lot of love for her grandmother Beatrice and taking comfort in knowing that there was yet another woman out there who would be waiting for her and who loved her strongly enough to make herself known.
But the mystery had one more little carrot to throw into the pot…Here are the emails Rachel and I shared the next day:
Her: Beatrice died in 1972
Me: Ok, that’s too late then to be our “date”. So the mystery then is what 68 means. It could be a year, it could be a month and a day, like June 8th, or august 6th…… Could be anything, an age maybe…she was born when again…1904? Oh wait….1972 minus 1904 equals 68.
She was 68 when she died.
Rest in Peace, Beatrice, your granddaughter knows you love her and she returns your love. You did good. See you on the other side someday….