The Place of “The Paranormal” in Grief

Shortly before Christmas in 1993, my grandparents flew from Florida to North Carolina and my parents drove from Virginia to pick them up so they could spend the holidays with us. We’d just moved to Virginia, and we didn’t really know many people in our area, with the exception of a family called the Reichlings, whom we’d known from our time in Georgia. They didn’t live far from our new home, and my folks asked them to watch us after school until they returned that afternoon.

Around dinner time, my parents and grandparents arrived at our church to pick us up, and my younger brother and I were asked to not hug our grandmother, since she was feeling under the weather. This of course made us sad, but we were pretty good kids, so we obliged and just piled into the van to head home.

That evening, my mother was cooking dinner and I was working on homework at the kitchen table when my grandmother came in and said she wasn’t feeling well. My (probably super exhausted) mom said “I’m sure you’re fine, just have some water and go sit down”, but my grandma insisted something wasn’t right. My parents called the Reichlings and asked if they could watch us a bit longer, and then called our family doctor to see if he could meet them at the office nearby.

I remember having pizza at the Reichlings and playing with their kids, who were a bit younger than my brother and I, and later that night watching the movie Prancer, snuggled in our sleeping bags. I remember the phone ringing and there being some hushed conversations, and somehow in my heart knowing something was wrong. When my dad came to get us the next morning, he let us know that my grandmother had passed away of a heart attack and that we as a family would be driving down to Florida the next day to prepare for her funeral.

Photo from: Melanie’s personal photos- my grandmother and me, 1993

This was my first experience with real grief.

Before that, I’d lost a goldfish or two, and we’d said goodbye to our first family dog a few years prior, but I suppose my family didn’t think my young brother and I would understand “death” at that time so they told us she went away. So that made my grandmother’s passing truly my first time experiencing and understanding the concept of loss and grief.

It was also my first experience with the paranormal.

Months after my grandmother passed away, I was in my bedroom, and I suddenly got a huge whiff of her perfume. It was something I immediately recognized, and I remember being so confused as to where it came from, and startled by the occurrence, but also overcome with comfort - almost feeling like I got a surprise bear hug from a loved one. I knew nearly instantly that she was there with me.

Some time later, I got an issue of Disney Adventures magazine that talked about paranormal topics and one thing that hit me was the ways that spirits presented themselves - suddenly I had someone (well, a magazine) reinforcing my thought that my grandmother had come to visit. I wasn’t crazy after all.

This began my interest in the paranormal, and for many years I enjoyed reading the occasional story about ghosts or cryptids or UFOs. In college I got into the (at the time) new wave of paranormal television - Celebrity Paranormal Project, Paranormal State, Ghost Hunters, etc. And I enjoyed the “fun” of it all.

The flood of paranormal content and the rise of paranormal entertainment satiated a variety of needs for all of us. For some it was a way to explore the unknown. For some it was a way to get our adrenaline in, by scaring ourselves. For some it was just good silly fun. I’m sure that all of you came to it for your own reasons as well.

But it wasn’t until March 2018 when things took a turn for me.

My dad had been sick for almost 18 months - liver cancer. He knew pretty quickly that it unfortunately would not be something he’d survive. Though the tumors weren’t huge and it was caught fairly early, the location of the tumors made them inoperable, as they were adjacent to a major artery. He made no secret of any of this from us, though he asked for us to not share with anyone outside of our family.

Photo from: Melanie’s photos - Dad and me, 1991

I’ll be honest, I’m terrible at keeping secrets. I told plenty of people (sorry Dad). But going through the end of your loved one’s life is something that is extremely isolating, no matter how many people are going through it with you. It still makes you feel alone and afraid and I think for me, worst of all, unmoored. My rock was, for the first time in my life, not steady. What do I do now? I needed people to talk to to try to find or create some semblance of stability and security during that time.

In those days, I turned mostly to watching Ghost Adventures as a drinking game (every time Zak says “come at me bro” or something similar, you drink - you’ll be toasty by the end of an episode- do not try this at home.) The paranormal entertainment I once loved had kind of become background noise or a (not very healthy) distraction from what was going on in my real life. It’s importance had shifted.

But March 19, 2018, I held my dad’s hand as he left this world. That moment was so profound and changed me so deeply. Today, just over eight years later, I’m able to look back on that and recognize all of the varied emotions I was feeling, and all of the things that I experienced in that season of my life. A lot of that processing was done because of folks I found through my paranormal journey.

Photo from: Melanie’s photos- Dad & me 2018

As I’m sure most of you would agree, our space is not just filled with ghost hunters or demonologists, but also people who are death doulas, hospice workers, morticians, people who see that bridge or transition between the living and the dead in a different way than most of us tend to experience. And those folks have been an incredibly valuable part of my grieving process.

For those of you who have gone through this (or similar) moment with a loved one, I remember feeling so frustrated that no one had prepared us for what to expect. It was frightening and overwhelming to not know whether my dad was in pain, or scared, or to know what the different machines were, or why his body did certain things. Those last hours and minutes with him, at the time, broke my heart because I was devastated to think my lasting memories of him would be so traumatic.

In the years that came after, I began following accounts I’d come across on social media after seeing posts that made me understand or cope with that loss in a new way. I heard an interview with Hospice Nurse Julie where she discussed some of her experiences working with patients in their last days, and the different patterns she saw (both medically speaking and also paranormally speaking). The idea that the things my dad experienced were normal, that they were less scary than they appeared from the outside, was hugely comforting. Hearing that many of her patients had “visitations” or “visions” of loved ones from the other side coming to comfort them in their last days, and knowing that maybe my dad got to experience that too… it gave me my first big breath in a long time.

I was immensely proud that my dad chose to donate his body to education after his passing, in hopes that a medical student or researcher might be able to take his illness and develop some kind of understanding or breakthrough. But I also had worries in the back of my mind about how his body would be treated, or how his cremation would be handled. Accounts like Lauren The Mortician gave me peace with that part of the process as well, knowing that he was treated professionally, with respect and dignity.

From the many “death-positive” accounts I began following, I was given not only peace of mind, but it helped me frame those last moments with my dad in a new way- I was so honored to have had the opportunity to be there with him. The man who was there when I entered the world. The man who loved me with all of his heart for all of my life. I was there to hold his hand as he left this world. To give him some of that love back when he needed it the most. What a blessing that is!

Through all of that, in the years after my dad died my relationship with the paranormal has changed yet again. I’ve found that learning more about the “unseen”, having my own unexplained experiences, and hearing the stories of others has made me feel like the connection I had with my loved ones here “earth-side” can continue even after we’ve left our current lives behind. Beautiful, right?

As another year has come and gone without my dad, and my grief has shifted, I’m grateful I’ve had the opportunity to reflect on the ways my paranormal community has supported and comforted me through the hard times. It’s been an incredible tool in my toolbox, and I try to share that with others as they go through their own tough times as well.

Before I sign off, I want to share that some of my favorite tools that I find helpful in navigating grief, and some of my favorite “death positive” creators are linked in the notes below. I hope you’ll find they help you too if ever you need them.

Thank you, my spooky siblings, for being a part of this beautiful community and I hope we can all continue to support each other when we need it.

Keep It Spooky, Sibs.

Written by Melanie Moses

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Links:

The Ball in the Box grief analogy:
psychcentral.com/blog/coping-with-grief-ball-and-box-analogy

Anderson Cooper and Stephen Colbert on loss and grief:
youtube.com/watch?v=YB46h1koicQ

Hospice Nurse Julie:
instagram.com/hospicenursejulie

Lauren the Mortician:
instagram.com/lauren.the.mortician

Darnell Lamont Walker:
instagram.com/hello.darnell

As a reminder, if you are having a challenging time coping with loss or grief, or just need to talk to someone, there are resources available.

Call or Text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, available 24/7, also available to chat at 988lifeline.org

For LGBTQ folks, the Trevor Project is available 24/7 at thetrevorproject.org/get-help

You matter. You are loved. And we’re so glad you’re here.