In what could be considered a continuation of last year's theme — messages sent from the other side — I find myself with more true tales on the subject that I want to share, or at any rate, to write down for my own remembrance. As we keep getting these messages, I have to wonder: Is this a spooky Halloween story, or just how life, how afterlife, works? Read on and decide for yourself.
A bit of background: In the summer of 2020, we bought the holiday home that my husband grew up with: a beach property that his grandparents had originally owned, that Dave spent every summer of his young life at, that his aunt sold out of the family in the 1980s; a bitter family tragedy that we were delighted to be able to make right again. Dave's parents both passed away last year, and it was some consolation that they both knew and appreciated that Dave had brought the property back into the family before they were gone. As it is a summer property and we live over two hours away (from what is now a four bedroom, four season house), we rented it out over the winter season of 2020-21 (which went very well) and followed up with other tenants in the winter of 2021-22 (an absolute nightmare.)
After not paying the full rent in January, Dave drove up and gave the tenants a notice of eviction at the end of the month. Knowing that all of the tenancy laws are tilted in their favour, these tenants scoffed at the idea that we'd be able to get them out, and as time went on and no money was coming to us in February either, Dave's sister, Rudy, kept getting angrier on our behalf and would frequently ask me for updates. At one point she said, "I couldn't sleep last night and I just put it out into the universe: Mom and Dad, couldn't you haunt them out? Rattle the doors? Make their dogs bark at empty corners until they leave?"
When I responded with a lacklustre, "If only," Rudy said: "They could do it, too. Didn't I tell you about when Dad was bugging me last fall? I would be at my office, turn off the lights when I'd go to leave, but once I was in the parking lot, I'd notice through the window that my lights were still on. I'd have to go back in and flip the switch again. This happened a few times, and I couldn't see anything wrong with the switch, couldn't figure out a normal explanation for why it was happening, so I just said into the air one day, 'Okay, Dad. You're really pissing me off now. I got the message. Hello. But you have to stop.' And it did stop. Never happened again. And I figure if Dad could do that, he could help us out here, you know, just so long as he hasn't fully moved on."
Calling that Plan B, I contacted a law firm at the end of February (the date that our eviction notice was supposed to go into effect, which the tenants continued to laugh at), and had them file the next step in the eviction process - with our paralegal explaining that the courts are so backlogged that it could take until May to even get a hearing, which isn't even the final step in the process to forcing unpaying tenants to leave.
Again, tempers here were strained — Dave and Rudy taking the situation very personally because of their nostalgic connection to the property; this is not simply an income stream, this is our recovered home — and as we neared the end of March, I asked the paralegal how else we could put pressure on the tenants to vacate. He said he could drive out there the next day and ask them to sign a form that commits them to a move out date, and he then asked if we had given thought to a monetary incentive we could offer them to leave even sooner. That really rubbed me wrong — thousands behind in rent, the property is filthy, they've racked up astronomical utility bills that I have paid — and the advice is to give them "cash for keys"? Desperate, Dave told the paralegal that he'd offer them a thousand dollars, payable on move out, but they would have to look him in the eye and take it directly from his hand.
The next morning, the tenant texted Dave, "The internet is out — as if YOU don't know?! — and I have a new at-home job that NEEDS the internet and if I don't HAVE the internet I can't get YOU any money, genius!!" Dave didn't respond — there had been a storm the evening before and we could only assume that wires were down somewhere because we hadn't cut it off; but we did recognise leverage when we saw it — and soon she was texting again, "I NEED the internet, my JOB is at stake. I promise if you turn it on I'll be out on May 1st."
The paralegal (after a bunch of other drama) drove out and got her to sign the form that promised a May 1st move out (without mention of a monetary incentive), and without any other action on our part, she texted Dave a bit later to say, "Internet is back on. Thank you."
That's admittedly a long story to get to the good bit: When I got home from work that evening, Dave was pacing between the kitchen and the family room, filling me in on all the details of his day. He had talked at length with the paralegal, and in outlining next steps, Dave said, "Oh and he said that I can call the Landlord and Tenant Board myself and let them know..."
And at that moment, Dave's phone — which was on the couch beside me in the family room — piped up, "Okay, calling Dad...Dad is not in your contacts." Dave came in from the kitchen and stared at the black screen of his phone and said quietly, "What time is it?" We both looked to the clock and saw that it was exactly eight o'clock. Dave said, "I always called Dad at eight every night."
I said, "And 'Dad' isn't in your contacts in your new phone?"
And Dave said, "He's there. My parents were just always under 'Granny and Grandpa.'" Which they always were.
Trying to duplicate what happened, Dave picked up his phone and said directly at it, "Call the Landlord and Tenant Board." And nothing happened. He swallowed and said, "Call Dad." And, of course, nothing happened. That's not how the phone works; especially when it's off and the screen is black. (We know it's always listening, but it never responded before.) Dave looked at me, glassy-eyed, and said, "I couldn't sleep last night, and as I laid there staring at the ceiling, I just kept saying, 'Help. I need help.' I don't know if I was talking to my Dad or just putting it out to the universe. But I think something, someone, was listening." (We might all hope the universe is listening, but it's never responded like this before.)
I don't know what happened that night, but it felt like a message from the other side. I'll go further and say that if my husband's late father was able to flip light switches, he was also able to mess with an internet connection. Being a decent person, he even turned it on again for someone who didn't deserve any favours (but who could have made life even more difficult for us by complaining to the Landlord and Tenant Board that we had turned off an included service, even while they declined to pay rent. What a broken system.)
Thank you Granny and Grandpa; the nightmare tenants were out at the beginning of May. Make of it what you will, but as for us, we know what we experienced.
Strange stories from previous years:
Halloween I
