Forgotten No More

Forgotten No More, Part One

1/  Spirit Hour

Come on, Sarah! Open your eyes! There's someone here you need to meet.

I awoke with a start. Someone had been patting me on the shoulder, trying to get me out of bed. The dog and my husband, Geordie, were the only ones with me and they were both fast asleep. A freight train couldn't have woken Geordie up after his busy day of snow removal at three different properties.

The kids' deep breathing in their rooms, the house settling on its foundation, a car driving into our neighbour's driveway. These were comforting, normal nighttime sounds.

Someone was in the room with me, the energy was off, I could sense it. My only question was whether they were dead or alive.

Life as a spiritual medium meant that spirit came to me whenever they needed my help, with no consideration for my time, and this felt like one of those moments. I sighed and looked at the clock on the dresser. Quarter past three in the morning. Sleep continued to elude me as I snuggled back under the blankets, hoping for sleep.

Aargh! The look I gave the clock should have stopped it. Instead, I threw the blankets off in frustration ten minutes later. I pulled on a comfy hoodie and pyjama pants.

"Sure, you stay there." The dog lifted his head and watched as I tied the drawstring on my fuzzy Eeyore pajamas. "I'll be fine downstairs on my own." Bogey sighed, his eyes drifting closed before he started snoring again.

A shadow stood in the doorway. The shadow descended the stairs several steps ahead of me, turning towards the kitchen. I followed it into the kitchen and flipped the light switch.

"This better be worth it, guys. I should be in bed."

The kettle boiled and my tea bag floated in the milky water as I turned the light out and made my way into the sunroom at the back of the house.

Although the sunroom was the best place to spend early mornings, this was early even for me. It was February, and the sun was several hours from cresting the horizon. I was thankful it was a full moon. Its ghostly blue light gave the night such an ethereal quality I didn't miss the sunrise.

I wrapped myself up in one of my crocheted afghans and started to sing a song that always made me smile. It was as if a radio was playing in the other room, the volume so low the words of Country Joe and the Fish's Vietnam Song were lost in the music.

I haven't heard that in ages. Awesome!

It was one I discovered in my American History class in high school, during our study of the Vietnam War. Our teacher, Mr. Dinova, knew how to bring history to life, and brought in recordings of little known anti-Vietnam and protest songs. He introduced us to songs by the Beach Boys, Country Joe and the Fish and Barry McGuire. They became some of my favourites.

The song looped over and played again, this time bringing with it the smell of cooking rice and rotting fish, an odd combination. A picture of a group of young men flashed through my mind's eye, soldiers dressed in military fatigues and holding up their hands in peace symbols. With the caption 'Kham Duc, 1968' written on the white border in block caps.

Oh, okay, am I to assume you are a Vietnam War veteran? I've never met a Vietnam vet, you must be an American. I don't think there were many Canadians who served in Vietnam.

That song was significant. The picture spoke volumes. There was a crucial message in them both, but what was it?

Spirit was playing shy, but the anger, confusion and fear they conveyed was unmistakable.