The English Pub

Almost six years since Scott’s death, signs and synchronicity have increased, not diminished over time.

One of my dad’s favorite sayings was “Oh Hell No.” If my mom or one of our family members asked him if he wanted to go out to eat or attend some sort of social function, he would answer, “Oh Hell No!”

Scott and my dad were close. They shared a love for Grateful Dead music and practically worshiped Jerry Garcia. When Scott met my family for the first time, I’m sure it wasn’t lost on him to see a watercolor painting of Jerry Garcia playing guitar at the end of our hallway.

Two weeks before my dad passed away from pancreatic cancer, he asked me if it was okay for him to wear my hoodie with a pumpkin patch scene and logo on it. He found it on a hanger in the hall closet. I answered, “That’s not mine, it’s Scott’s, but I don’t think he will mind” . 

Later, I would wonder why Scott left his hoodie in my parents' hallway closet before he died. He was protective of his things. I remember asking him if I could have one of his jackets, and he had to think about it for a day or two before he gave it to me. Over the years, I’ve given away my stuff over and over throughout my life, so this was an interesting trait I found in my partner. Scott didn’t like teasing, but I would find ways to slip in how I could fit all of my stuff in a backpack and everything could be replaced for $500. I’m sure he found this totally irritating, but he never said anything.

My dad wore the hoodie every day before his death. He fell asleep in his bed and woke up in the other world on Scott’s birthday. I found comfort in the way he waited until that day and died in the bed he shared with my mom, just like Scott died in our bed in a cabin in the forest.

With my dad and Scott across the veil, I was always on the hunt for signs from Scott, but also signs from my dad I could show my mom to help her relieve some of the grief and pain of not knowing where my dad was.

One day, I got the nudge to go to an English pub. A heavy-set man with a long beard and boisterous voice and laughter came across my Instagram feed. He owned a pub just a few miles from our home. My mom and I had been looking for a pub since we came back from my first trip to the UK the previous year. It was my first trip over the pond, and I fell in love with the pub scene over there.

Before we left the house to check out the pub, I looked up the name again. It was called “Goose and Fern.” I called out to my mom, “Hey, look, the name of the pub is Goose and Fern. It might be a sign from Dad.” My dad kept a blind pet goose for years that I had given him when I had my farm. I couldn’t keep her safe with all the wild animals roaming about, so my dad took her in; she lived inside the house with their golden retriever, Rusty. When she died many years later, my dad broke down; he was so bonded to her.

Then, I noticed the second half of the name: Fern. Fern was Scott’s favorite plant. He would point them out anytime we hiked or drove through the Redwoods, which was often, since we are surrounded by hundreds of miles of protected Redwood forests where we live.

My mom and I headed out to the pub. I reminded her to jot down notes of any signs we might find in a journal when we got back home so on her rough grief days, she could review all the signs my dad sends her when she’s feeling down.

We wouldn’t find any signs at the pub, but we did find a sign from my dad—a gift for my mom.

The pub hadn't opened yet, so we decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and found a strange shop that didn’t make a lot of sense. Inside, we found hundreds of Dungeons & Dragons games, Star Wars figures, and tarot decks. In the next room, we found jars filled with dice in all shapes and sizes. I said to my mom, “This looks like the kind of shop Dad would like. There’s dice all over.” My mom found other game pieces in the room. We looked at each other; my dad was absorbed for years creating a baseball board game. He never finished it. My parents would go on shopping trips for years looking for dice and game pieces for his board game. We left the room and found a staircase to the upper level. Upstairs, we found young men playing with mythological figures and board games, their “toys” covering an extra-large dining room table that looked like something you would find in a medieval castle.

After looking through a free library of books by the table, I couldn’t find a book that piqued my interest, so we decided to go back downstairs.

On the way out of the shop, there was another table covered with stuff.

I glanced down and caught the title of a small book with big bold letters on the cover, “Oh Hell No,” and in small print, “For recording Ghost sightings.”