Saturday September 24th 2022

As Time Goes By

Spiritual author and writer Jane Cranmer poses some interesting questions and conundrums for seekers – and non-seekers.

It has been a frantic few days in the Cranmer household. My daughter, the youngest of my three children, has moved out. This has entailed the slow dismantling of her room, endless treks across town with suitcases, bags and boxes, and re-establishing a comfortable sort of female chaos at her new residence.
A casualty of this mayhem and madness was her older brother, who was temporarily (and accidentally of course), divested of his “man bag”…that essential item wherein lay everything necessary for the young man about town: his uni work, dongle, passport and wallet. We had a few troubled hours tearing the house apart, while Dan paced the loft like an expectant father on a maternity ward, worrying as the whole of his identity hung in the balance…the conundrum being…if the bag had gone…would he now cease to exist?
You can imagine the joy on his face when his sister confirmed it had merely taken an unscheduled trip to her new home, and everything appeared to be in order. Oh how we celebrated! Well, lets say I poured a large glass of something over ice, and the twitch in my left eye lessened a bit.
It’s hard being a mother, all that unpleasant, but very necessary cutting of apron strings. I am convinced my children are actually fastened on by elastic, as the two older ones left and within six months each rebounded back home to me. I have no complaints, I kind of like them around.
Of course there are deeper degrees of separation…cords that break and cannot be so easily re-joined. Rooms that may forever remain empty, places at the dining table that may never be filled.
Yesterday was the twenty-fourth anniversary of my Aunty Mary’s passing. Not being the overly sentimental sort I did not mark it with flowers or candles, or remembrances in the local newspaper, but I thought of her all the same.
My Aunty Mary was the woman who brought me up, although I was also extremely close to both my Mum and Nana…fortunate perhaps, in having not one mother, but three. She passed away after a long protracted battle against cancer, that left me both relieved for her, and bereft for myself. It did not help, I assume, that this was to be the fourth death of a close family member in an eighteen month period, beginning with my Nana,  followed a year later by my Mum, and my Grandad just the week before. It never rains but it pours as they say!
So, I fell out with God.
As I explained in my previous article, I had not been brought up “in the church” anyway. Nonetheless, I had found a faith of my own that sustained me…God and I were on close, intimate acquaintance, and I’d never neglected to share my thoughts with him before. But I did now. It wasn’t that I stopped believing he was there, I’d just decided we were no longer on speaking terms!
You see, we always seem to view death as a punishment don’t we. We always think if God loved us, he wouldn’t let us die, he wouldn’t take our loved ones away.
Perhaps we need to change our perspective. Maybe we are not going away…what if we are being called home?
I was twenty years old, pregnant with my first child, and in many ways , more alone than I have ever been at any point in my life since…or so I believed.
Love, they say, can move mountains. My loved ones were tapping at the windows for years before I heard them and let them in.
At first came the dreams. Not my dreams I hasten to add. Aunty Mary, bless her, started to turn up in the dreams of my closest friends. They would bump into her in shops, and elevators, in parks or gardens, the scenery didn’t matter, the message was always the same. How nice it was to see them, did they realise she was dead, and would they please look after Jane for her?
One by one, independently, my friends relayed the dreams to me. At first it was a case of thinking “how nice” or how kind of them to be so worried they were dreaming about me… to, how odd, they were all having the same message relayed in these dreams. Even so, dreams are easy to dismiss, especially when they belong to someone else!
Then came dreams of my own. First of all just fleeting glimpses, smiles across a room from departed family members who appeared to be getting younger and healthier on each occasion. Then eventually to a meeting in what appeared to be a plain bare room, except for a bench either side, and a door that I had come in through, and a door opposite, through which glowed the most amazing light. Aunty Mary was sitting on the bench opposite me.
“Where are we?” I asked.
She told me we were in a place she called “The Waiting Room”.
I don’t recall all the questions I asked, or all the information I received from her, not least because this was a mind to mind transference of information, as opposed to a spoken one, but the main thing I took away from this dream was this ;
Death is most certainly not the end. When we die we go through a process of readjustment. If we have been ill, or died suddenly in an accident, or other tragic circumstances, we arrive on the other side a little confused. It is almost as if we are cocooned for a time as we slowly come to terms with where we are, and what is happening. If we have been ill then everything goes into reverse. I think we could be perfect instantly if we were able to believe it, but of course, some of us are as resistant to new ideas on the other side as we were in life, so we find it easier to accept a gradual return to perfect good health.
It is not just our health that returns though, slowly we regain our youth and vitality. The acclaimed American Medium Sylvia Brown states that on the other side every one is aged around thirty. that sounds about right, but I must profess the last time I saw my mother she was now about twenty-two, so maybe we just settle at whatever age we’re happiest.
In this wonderful lucid dream Aunty Mary explained she was now almost at the end of her recuperation phase, and very soon she would be able to pass through the door I could see with the amazing light around its edges. I could see she looked so much better. The last time I had seen her alive she had been a skeletal woman in her early sixties, her skin grey, her eyes dull, her hair thin and lustreless. Now she looked as if she had shed twenty years, put on a couple of stone in weight, there was a glow to her, and her hair was thick and shiny. I felt happier to see her like that than I had in a long, long time.
It was time to go, she smiled, I smiled back, and then…I was awake. What a wonderful dream, I thought.
It would be many years later, and a good many dreams down the road, before the truth became evident to me.
When my nearest and dearest family were taken from me, all those years ago, I thought that they were lost to me forever. Little did I know the journey I was about to be taken on, or the wondrous places it would lead me to. I set out cautiously like Dorothy along the Yellow Brick Road…there would be lots of surprises on my way to the Emerald City.

About Jane
I am a forty-something mother of three grown up children, married to Mark for 25 years. Currently in the process of setting up my own publishing company. My first book, Ancestors & Angels will be out early next year, and a second and third book are already in the pipeline. I come from a long line of both psychics and sceptics, and as a result of this I am a student of Theosophy, I look at science, religion and the paranormal to find the common ground between them. Unravelling the mysteries of the Universe is the theme running through all my books. I have lived in Yorkshire all my life, and my greatest loves are reading, history, and travelling round Britain collecting weird and wonderful stories to re-tell. Visit my site :

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