I was taking a leisurely bath one night while getting ready to entertain friends. In a buoyant mood, I suddenly found myself humming the song “Scarborough Fair” by Simon and Garfunkel. The song became more and more insistent, and I began to experience a deep grief. I soon realized that I was receiving a communication from someone who had recently died and who wanted me to give their love to the person they had left behind. I could feel that the person was a man.
I tried to think of who this could possibly be that was trying to contact me. He seemed to have been an elderly man. I mentally sifted through my memory thinking of everyone I could possibly know who might be related to this person. Nothing felt right. At the time, I was editing a small magazine and had received two submissions from an elderly gentleman in the UK. In one of his articles, he made brief mention of his wife. Eventually I remembered this man, and the association clicked.
The bath ended and I got dressed to meet my friends. I was still feeling very emotional and felt great pressure from the other side to deliver the message. Finally, I silently promised to write to this man’s wife within three days. At that moment, the necklace I was wearing broke and fell to the floor.
Within the three promised days, I tentatively wrote a letter to the UK, addressing it to this man’s wife. I described what had happened to me and apologized in case I had accidentally contacted the wrong person. Within a couple of weeks, I received a reply to my letter. The woman told me that her husband had recently had a stroke — he was in a coma in a special care facility and was not expected to recover or regain consciousness. Her favorite song in the 1970s had been “Scarborough Fair,” and he would always tease her about it. She was convinced that he had chosen me to send the message through because I had no way of knowing what had happened and knew nothing of their history together. In this way, she was assured that the message was genuine. She thanked me for writing, and I was glad that I had had the courage to do so.