I was invited to visit the home of a well-known soccer player abroad. His family had been experiencing a number of inexplicable and unsettling disturbances. I asked my highly intuitive friend Marie to accompany me, as we often work through difficult situations together, and she has always been a great source of support.
After a few hours’ flight, we arrived at our destination and met the gentleman in question. He was warm and humble, and we hoped we could do our best to help him and his family. He invited us to rest for the night before travelling to the house the following day. The next morning, after a short drive, we arrived and were introduced to the rest of the family. I declined their kind offers of refreshments, and Marie and I went straight to work. I asked the family to remain in the front room while we began our investigation.
I said a prayer and offered a blessing for both of us, and we decided to start with the bedrooms upstairs. We went through each room, but they appeared entirely ordinary, and we sensed nothing unusual. When we entered the master bedroom, however, we both detected a faint trace of something. We tried to focus on it, but we could not make a clear connection. For a moment, we were tempted to leave, quietly questioning whether anything was truly present in the house at all. Still, the persistent feeling was difficult to ignore. I looked at Marie, and she whispered, “There is something here, Garo.”
It was time to address the situation directly, in the hope of eliciting a response that would allow us to understand and assist.
“We know you are here, whoever or whatever you may be. We mean you no harm. Tell us who you are and what you want. We are here to help you and this family.”
There were no threats or dramatics, only a calm, neutral approach to a confusing situation. Gradually, we both became aware of a presence centred around the bed, and we instinctively pointed towards it. In our mind’s eye, we saw an old, frail man lying in bed, as though he were nearing the end of his life. It was a pitiful image, but we remained cautious and did not let our sympathy cloud our judgment.
After a moment of silence, he began to communicate, and we both understood his message clearly and at the same time. He conveyed that he had been left behind and abandoned by his family, whom he was still searching for. Although I felt compassion for him, I also sensed an undercurrent of anger. His sadness, however, was overwhelming, and Marie and I both felt it deeply. When I turned to her, I saw that she was sobbing. I held her briefly, recognising that she was experiencing his loneliness and grief, then gently asked her to step back.
I addressed the man silently, telling him that we were there to help him, but that he also needed to help us. I explained that the family in the house, including two young girls, were frightened, and that it was time for him to move on and reunite with his loved ones on the other side. I asked Marie to join me in filling the room with white light, and I quietly called upon my helpers to guide him towards it.
We closed our eyes and visualised the room becoming filled with light. The atmosphere shifted, and the space grew warmer. After a short while, Marie, still in tears, said, “He’s gone,” and I confirmed that the presence had indeed left.
Later, she told me that she had felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and loneliness, a depth of emotion that was difficult to describe but impossible to ignore. That was why she had cried so intensely. We said a prayer for the man and for his healing on the other side.
The family expressed their gratitude and offered us lunch, but we declined, as we wanted to return to the hotel to rest. It had been a heavy session, and although we were relieved by the outcome, we needed time to recover and find ourselves.
