I met Jeep in in San Francisco in 1995, at an art show I put on at a local gay bar on Castro Street. The show was not my best one, due to the layout of the dark, smoke-filled interior, as well as the huge amount of wall space I needed to cover. I had to rush through several unfinished pieces to get the amount of work I needed to make the layout presentable, and in the end, was very underwhelmed with the result. Two months after the opening when the show was over, I had to meticulously clean and restore each piece to remove the horrid yellow nicotine residue which stained my entire collection. But one good thing did come out of that exhibit: I met the man I would fall in love with and marry eighteen years later, when same sex marriage became legal.
On this Saturday afternoon in June, however, while I was glumly sipping a beer near the front sliding doors which were opened along the sidewalk to let in the streams of customers and passersby, I struck up a conversation with a handsome man next to me. My opening line was meant to solicit honest feedback about the show from someone who did not know me. “What do you think about the artwork?” I asked, motioning to the many pieces on the walls around us, arranged with carefully measured spacing.
“Most of the art is derivative, but I like this one,” he said, indicating the piece which was right behind us. This piece was my favorite, too; instead of being insulted or put off by the honest feedback, I was delighted in his response. I introduced myself and bought him another beer, and that was the beginning of a twenty-two year relationship—nearly thirty years if you include my relationship with him still, seven years after his death.
My first paranormal experience with Jeep happened when he suffered a sudden onset of acute pancreatitis while we were in Mexico in 1997, and nearly died. He was brought back from the brink of death by three angels, who held vigil during the darkest moments, with one, an old Indian shaman, laying her hands on his abdomen in an act of healing. Another angel appeared as a young blond boy with glasses, who read to him by his bedside to comfort him, while a third, a Black man, watched over Jeep and the other angels, supervising and never leaving the room while he struggled to survive. This last angel was also present just before Jeep died twenty years later, when he was in the hospital after collapsing from I later found out was the final stage of congestive heart failure. (Even with a medical power of attorney, Jeep’s doctors failed to share this diagnosis with me, leaving me unaware as to the severity of his condition.)
During his hospitalization before being released on August 10, 2017, Jeep called me from his room to tell me that the Black man who had attended to him two decades prior had returned, and would periodically walk by the door, stop, and stand watching him, only to leave and reappear again. I knew in my heart Jeep was near the end of his life, and tried to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for what was soon to come. I was given false hope, however, when the hospital released him to come home, saying he was doing fine and there was no reason to keep him there, even for observation. This was a tragic mistake, as he would be dead from a massive heart attack less than 24 hours later.
I brought Jeep home, got him comfortable in bed, and attended to him with the hope that maybe the doctors were right, and this was just a passing episode which will improve over time. A few hours later, he got up and told me that he wasn’t feeling that well. I asked him if he needed to go back to the ER, and he hesitated and shook his head. To be on the safe side, I arranged for a nurse house call the following afternoon to check on him. When he awoke the following day, he had much more energy, was talkative, and began to feel more hopeful and positive about the future.
The nurse arrived at about 3pm, checked his vitals, and said he appeared to be stable and doing okay. She spent about fifteen minutes talking with Jeep to observe him, during which time he told her how excited he was that we were making plans to more to the Pacific Northwest soon. This also filled me with joy, as I took Jeep talking about our future as a good sign that, maybe, everything was going to work out, and my husband would heal and we would have many more years together.
While the nurse was filling out her report, we heard several loud knocks on the wood shelving next to the fireplace mantle. We all stopped and looked at each other. “Did y’all hear that?” I asked. Jeep and the nurse both said they did, with the nurse motioning to the mahogany shelves directly to her right.
“It came from right here,” she said nervously, her face calm but pale with disbelief.
We all tried to laugh it off uncomfortably and change the subject, but there was no doubt something strange and unexplainable had just occurred. Three hours later, Jeep would be dead, and I believe wholeheartedly that this was Death, announcing himself and preparing us for Jeep’s time to leave this world.
My whole world shattered that evening. Alone and in the throes of shock and grief, I struggled to keep it together over the next two months in that rental house in Round Rock, Texas. I needed to figure out a path forward, and so began to look for homes to buy in Washington state, keeping Jeep’s hope for our future as a roadmap for mine, alone. And just nine weeks later, I was moving into a lovely split level ranch style home in Spokane, WA.
I know Jeep was with me daily during the first two years in that house. I would smell cigarette smoke in the studio I had set up in what was the home’s dining room (Jeep was a smoker, and actually died doing what he loved best: smoking next to the laundry room door, looking out at the elm trees in our spacious back yard in Texas). It was a comforting smell, and brought me a peaceful respite from my grief, albeit momentarily.
When I met Ian in 2019 and married him shortly thereafter, we spent another two years in that house, before selling it and moving to Tacoma in 2021. We bought a small fixer-upper, and spent what remained from our post-sale nest egg doing necessary repairs to make the bungalow livable. During the first three months in our new home, we also battled for our very souls and lives against demons that infested the property. The final exorcism, which released the last of the malignant entities, took Ian’s life. But just as the power of the Holy Trinity and St. Michael the Archangel rebuked and bound the demon, Christ lifted Ian up from the dead and breathed new life into his body. Ian described his resurrection as glowing hands that reached down from the ceiling, enveloping him with love and reuniting his spirit with his body.
From that day forward, Ian has had one foot in the realm of the dead, and the other in the world of the living. He was given a powerful gift, that of a physical medium, by God, and can now see, hear, interact and manifest on a level I have never seen before. To be honest, Ian is the most powerful medium I’ve ever encountered. His abilities never cease to amaze me, and together, we have grown spiritually and emotionally as a team in every sense of the word: he as a medium, and me in the role of discernment and exorcist.
Jeep also has come to know Ian through his gift, and the two have developed a trusting relationship. Jeep first appeared to Ian when he was working as a Kennel Aid at the Humane Society. While Ian was attending to kennels in the employee only area, he turned to see a handsome man in shorts, t-shirt, overshirt and sandals, with several silver rings on his fingers and a trimmed, brown beard. The description fit a younger Jeep perfectly when Ian shared the encounter with me immediately afterward. Jeep introduced himself, and they talked for about ten minutes; another employee saw them talking and came over to Ian after Jeep had left, asking who the man was and why he was in a restricted area. Ian responded simply that he was a close friend of the family, and left it at that.
Since that day, Jeep has been present in our lives. I have learned so much from him—some things I can share, and others which I cannot. Jeep is a guardian angel, who watches over us and guides us with clarification when we are faced with difficult paranormal circumstances. He joins us at mass on many Sundays (the candles nearest to him on the altar in the sanctuary burn high and bright when he is present), and has spent many days at a time with Ian and me during times of difficulty and trauma. Jeep also comes to our house to rest and restore his energy, a safe place for him.
One day, I came home from my shift to check on the dogs, and found Enui, Jeep’s childhood teddy bear, on my desk chair in the studio, a cross made from a blessed Palm Sunday frond it its lap. This was a physical manifestation meant for me, so that I would know he was there, as I do not have Ian’s ability to see the dead. He also sometimes lights the sage on our altar, and will bring the scent of smoke or a favorite cologne he loved to wear to me. Ian will confirm that yes, Jeep is here when I mention these moments of clairalience (the psychic ability to smell odors or fragrances brought by the paranormal).
I have also been able to validate, via real world links, some of what Ian relays to me during his talks with Jeep. One instance in particular happened about a year ago, when Ian told me that Jeep was in the bedroom reading. As I was standing next to Ian in the bedroom doorway, I asked what Jeep was reading. He paused for a moment and looked at Jeep, listening intently, then told me, “A Rosewood Casket.” This was a title I was unfamiliar with, as was Ian. I looked it up on my phone, and sure enough, this is a novel set in the American deep south, where Jeep was raised; he loved reading novels set the south when he was alive, like John Grisham’s “A Painted House”, one of the last novels he read before his death, and which I also read after Jeep passed so that I could share this experience with him. I was delighted to have this confirmation, and was soon given another one a couple months later. Jeep again stayed with us, this time reading a hardcover volume of “Gray’s Anatomy”.
“You mean the TV show?” Ian asked, confused. “I didn’t know they wrote a book about that show.”
I knew exactly what the book was, though, and chimed in, “It’s a medical anatomy book. ‘Knowledge is Power’ Jeep always said to me (a line from one of our favorite movies, “Auntie Mame”). He loved reading reference material, like Wikipedia, all the time…”
“Huh,” Ian responded, accepting this new revelation.
A third validation came about a month down the road, when again, Jeep rested in our bedroom, this time with a magazine. “Which magazine does he have?” I queried. Ian squinted as Jeep held up the issue for him to see.
After a moment, Ian said, “TIME magazine. It’s a September issue from 2008. Obama is on the cover.” And yes, after a moment of research, the issue was exactly as he described, published September 1, 2008.
I am very grateful for my late husband’s presence in our lives, and I have been able to achieve amazing closure in my heart. Not many people have the opportunity to speak directly to those whom they love and have lost. I have been able to work through my regrets, grief, loss and emotions by talking to Jeep, and by having him close by at times when he chooses to stay with us. He is a noble, honorable and giving person, and has brought great peace, positive change and love into my life, both when he was alive and after his transformation in death. I am a very lucky man, and cherish the opportunity God has given me to receive the love of two husbands, in flesh and in spirit. There are so many stories left to tell about Jeep’s presence in our lives, but those will have to wait for another day…