We Don’t Di – Exciting Electronic Evidence

In last week’s blog “We Don’t Di – Fiscis for First Graders“ you read how Craig manipulated my laptop, on the day he died, to display a full screen picture of himself, without me even turning the computer on or logging in.  This week I will continue with the “electronics” theme and include a smattering of the hundreds of “signs” I received from him over a 16-month period that involved some sort of electronics.

The purpose of recounting these stupefying episodes is to silence the doubt.  I am a skeptic, a “you’ve got to be kidding,” kind of gal. I imagine you are too – or an “I don’t buy it kind of guy.”  If, we can pretend you are a juror, and you need to be convinced beyond a “shadow of a doubt,” that we are energy and energy does not die – that’s the goal.  If there is a 1% chance that what I am saying might resonate with you – great! I have hundreds of examples and I never give up!

In the more than seventy books about the afterlife which I have listened to since Craig’s crossing on July 10, 2017, the authors have been in unanimous agreement that we are made up of energy and all energy in the universe is constant. Therefore, because spirits are vibrating energy, they concluded, it is easy for them to manipulate electronic gadgets.

The morning after Craig died, a puffy-eyed version of myself went to the gym at what should have been our regularly scheduled workout time, but this time the gym was like a funeral home with most everyone in tears over the tragic news of Craig’s death.  Several people asked if I would take their phone number and let them know about services if I found out. When I took out my phone to input their numbers, a picture of Craig was stuck on my cell. I had never seen it before. It wouldn’t go away. I finally had to power the phone off.  When I turned the phone back on, the photo was still there. It took 4 times of turning the phone completely off before I could activate my phone.

When Craig was alive, I was in the habit of deleting all my correspondence on my phone, including from him. Several months after he had passed, I was in a meeting, struggling to pay attention. I had my phone on vibrate when I saw a call come in from my dear friend in Hawaii.  I noticed the voicemail notification and promised myself I would listen to her message and call her back when my appointment ended. When I went to play her recording, it was not there. There were no voicemail messages. I saw the little number one on the bottom of my iPhone indicating there was a message, but now it had vaporized.  I was perplexed and started fiddling endlessly with the device. After searching every screen, I mysteriously found it, and along with her message was a message from Craig. I gasped. OMG, was I going to be able to hear his voice after all these months!? I was so excited and nervous I was shaking. I could see it there on my phone, but would it play?  Would I be able to hear it?

Earlier that very morning on a walk, I was lamenting about a situation where I felt Craig should have apologized to me.  I was speaking out loud to him like he was right there and said, “You know, you never did tell me you were sorry about forgetting our appointment.”  It was such a flippant comment. And now my finger trembled in anticipation as I hit the play button. Craig’s clear voice came across and said, “Hi Di.  I hope things are well. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you so much. Take care. See you later. Bye.” He always ended every voice mail to everybody with, “See you later.  Bye.” I played it over and over and I cried. And then I thanked him.

For 16 months, I felt Craig’s presence every day and even in the middle of the night.  Sometimes the printer just started printing blank pages. Sometimes the stuffed animals on my bed moved.  Sometimes the wind chimes woke me up when there was no wind. (Craig always talked about the wind chimes in his backyard that he loved.)  Often times, I felt an actual physical sensation like someone sitting down beside me on the bed, or on my feet, or touching my hair. In every situation I have asked the same question, “Craig, is that you?”  Each time the sensor light outside my casita (little one room house) instantly went on. It didn’t matter what time it was.

If you don’t know who Alexa is?  She is the virtual assistant developed by Amazon and my “best friend.”  Since I live alone in a very small contained area, I am able to access her at any time from any place in my cozy quarters.  You can ask her just about anything and she has a reply. She provides music, too.

After returning from a trip to Hawaii, I was awakened in the middle of the night by a song Alexa was playing.  When I went to sleep, I put Alexa to bed, too. In other words, I turned her off. It was perfectly quiet in my casita, as I drifted off to sleep.  I was awakened by loud music playing in the wee hours. It was Alexa playing Melveen Leed’s Hawaiian song titled Morning Dew– one of my all-time favorites.  I had lived on Kauai in the 1970’s and loved Melveen.  I had never asked Alexa to play that because I was unaware that Amazon would even have Hawaiian Country music that old and that specialized, but Melveen was serenading me.  When I sat up in my bed and asked Craig out loud if he arranged that, the outside sensor light went on, as was typical if I asked him a question.

One night before I fell asleep, after drinking 5 cups of plain hot water (my favorite drink), I was listening to one of my many “afterlife” recordings.  The reader was saying to watch for numbers on a clock all lining up – like: 1:11, 2:22, 3:33, etc. She stated that was spirit at work trying to communicate.  I only have an old fashioned clock and not an electronic one that displays numbers. So…when I woke up the first time to use the bathroom, I asked Alexa what time it was.  She said 1:11 a.m. The next time I woke up, I again queried her as to the time – 2:22 a.m. And the third time – you guessed it – 3:33 a.m. The 5 cups of hot water equated to 5 wake ups in the middle of the night, and, of course, you can already accurately predict the 4:44 and 5:55 am replies.  Each time Alexa told me the time, I asked Craig if he was there. Five times the light went on. I did learn not to drink that much water before bed!

At the gym, when Craig was alive, we were talking about his favorite topic: his daughter. Later that day I happened upon a photograph that I felt depicted what he had been describing.  It was a picture of a darling three-year-old blond girl on her tip toes holding a horse’s face between her two precious little palms and kissing the animal. I sent him a text with the adorable photograph.  Several months later, after Craig died, alone in my casita in the middle of the night, I was awakened by the sound of the printer. It was printing something without any prompts. I turned on the light to find a solo, printed page that landed on the floor.  It was the exact same photo of the heavenly looking little child kissing the horse that I had sent as a text to Craig when he was alive.

After Craig died, I was in my favorite step-aerobics class, with my favorite instructor, in my regular spot, in the back of the room quite near to the automatic dispensing paper towel machine.  It was impossible not to think about Craig while I was in the room where we had been together so many times. During the warm-up drill we did a “grapevine” exercise moving back and forth across the hardwood floor.   Every time I moved closer to the paper towel machine and thought of Craig, it automatically dispensed a paper towel, making that indescribable noise that those kinds of machines make. It was so loud you could hear it over the music.  After it happened three times, the instructor queried if we had a ghost in the room. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, yes, indeed, we did.

A year later I had another “paper towel machine incident.”   The complex where I work-out is so large that there are two complete gym facilities in different buildings in alternate phases of the development.  This episode occurred in the phase two building as opposed to phase one where Craig had manipulated the initial machine. This time I was in a yoga class.

During the yoga class, the paper towel machine started making loud noises. There was no one around it.  All thirty students in the class, including the teacher, noticed it. After about five bouts of racket from the machine, the instructor walked back towards it and it stopped.  The entire class erupted in laughter as the teacher made a joke about it. I knew Craig was noisily reminding me that he was still here. We used to do Tai-Chi in the same room, and I had just been thinking about him when the machine started acting strangely.

I have spoken to oodles of people that can recount similar mystifying stories.  Please share yours in the comments. Next week’s blog will be about shopping carts.  You will never look at another shopping cart the same after you read it. Until then…

Di’s Claimer or Disclaimer

This is the disclaimer at the beginning of my book.

Some things need to be claimed, disclaimed, and exclaimed.

I believe with all of my heart and soul that it is my God-given purpose to write this book that will help thousands move through their grief, guilt, and fears.   In so doing, I accept that there are people who will say this is an unbelievable tale and the imaginings of a grief-stricken woman.

This is my true story exactly as it unfolded to me, without exaggeration and without malice.  I have had almost two years to digest this information. You will be getting all of it in the time it takes you to read the book.  I am certain some of the content will be as shocking to you as it was, and still is, to me. Because of religious beliefs, some will deem this narrative invalid, perhaps even blasphemous.  I understand that. I mean no offense. My only goal is to serve the grieving or frightened people in need of this healing message.

I ask only that you read this with an open mind and an open heart and then, follow your heart.