The Unexpected Visit
By Kim O'Neill
As a psychic, I've always found it a privilege to channel for clients who were eager to heal longstanding emotional and spiritual wounds through communicating with their angels and departed loved ones. It is a remarkable process to enter into a dialog with a deceased loved one with whom we still share unresolved issues and be able to heal those wounds—with the full cooperation of the departed! In fact, in circumstances in which an earthly relationship is so fraught with ongoing tension and melodrama, sometimes the only way to resolve the issues is after one of the individuals has passed on. Ironically, in light of my experience in addressing issues of my own through channeling, hypnosis, and traditional therapy, I truly believed that all my childhood healing was finally complete. But an uninvited visit from a departed family member would prove me very wrong.
In the 1920s, my paternal grandparents left Sweden and immigrated to America. They chose to settle in Chicago, most likely because there was a large Swedish community and the climate would have reminded them of "back home." They had one child, my dad, who was raised according to the prevailing children-are-supposed-to-be-seen-and-not-heard philosophy so popular at the time. He grew up, fell in love with an American Catholic girl of Irish-German descent, and they were married. A few years later, I was born, and my two brothers soon followed. As far back as I can remember, my grandparents spoke with heavy accents and would pepper their conversation with Swedish words and phrases. At birthday parties, we always sang in English and then in Swedish, which is a tradition I carry on to this day, wanting to pay tribute to them as well as celebrate a part of the heritage I have passed down to my children. My grandfather, so incredibly loving, was always referred to as "Farfar," the Swedish word for a paternal grandfather. If I chose not to marry a Swede, he would tell me in his broken English, when I had children, he hoped they would call my dad—his son— "Farfar." But, unfortunately, life would take a very different turn.
My father, Stig, became an abusive alcoholic. Even as a small child, I could sense that he was miserable with his life. To offset the depression and restlessness he felt, he developed a hobby. One day, he came home with a huge Lionel train set that he had acquired for himself rather than as something to share with us kids. This moment, as I write, I realize for the first time that the train set likely fed his fantasy of having the freedom to escape the dismal life he had created. No wonder he invested so much time alone playing with his new hobby! He continued to buy new cars and track, and soon the Lionel train set dominated our large suburban basement. He painstakingly arranged hundreds of feet of track on several Ping-Pong tables, and his railroad empire wound through a series of quaint, tiny villages that he had created. My parents were always struggling financially and I have no clue where he got the money.
When he wasn't home, my brothers and I loved to play with the life-like, sturdy Lionel steam engines and all of their numerous rail cars that operated by remote control. We never tired of staging crashes in which two steam engines would collide head-on, and then derail, sending all the rail cars cascading to the concrete floor—without causing even a scratch on their sturdy frames!
The alcohol fueled my dad's temper, and as time went on, it became impossible for me to maintain a relationship with him. Because we were estranged, my father never met my husband, Britt, and he died before I had children. He had caused me so much pain that I never spoke about him.
Years later, one Saturday morning when my son, Flynn, was six years old, he came downstairs for breakfast and he was rubbing his eyes. I asked if he had slept well, and he told me, to my utter astonishment, that "Farfar" had come to visit and together, they went to "his house in heaven" and played with his big train set all night! Flynn told me how much fun he had, and that he couldn't wait to go back.
At first I was completely unwilling to have any further communication with my departed father. I had been so hurt by him as a child that I found it nearly impossible to trust that he wasn't going to create more pain for me—or my two children. But at the request of my husband, I decided to take the risk and slowly opened a dialog with my dad; and, to my surprise, discovered over time that his spirit is sensitive, funny, warm, engaging, supportive, dependable, and encouraging. If "Farfar" had not visited Flynn, I never would have had the opportunity of getting to know him as he really is—on a soul level. What's more, I may never have become aware that I was still harboring toxic resentment, disappointment, and fear that was corroding me emotionally. I'm delighted that my children have the opportunity to receive visits from "Farfar" in their dreams and enjoy the fun of the Lionel train set! Through the process of channeling, I have been able to heal old wounds and develop—for the first time—a close relationship with my dad, and my children have had the unique opportunity to get to know their maternal grandfather...who died years before they were born!
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