I want to dedicate this blog to all the mothers and grandmothers whose children have died. This is probably the worst fate that anyone can endure.
When I was five, my brother died in a boating accident. The grief that filled my house was unbearable. My mother could not let go. As a child, I could not understand her pain. All I knew was that I lost my mother. No matter how she tried to hide her pain, she was not the mother that I once knew. When I looked into her eyes, all I could see was sadness.
Years later when I was searching for my spiritual path, I could see that my development was going towards being a medium. I was certain that this was not the right path for me. I wanted to bring joy to my clients, not deal with the sadness of death. I wanted everyone to learn about the love and companionship of their angels. While living in Manhattan, I started teaching angel communication. I struggled to keep the dead away. I was determined, “No dead people.”
I could not bear looking into eyes filled with such intense sadness again.
One of my first sessions was with a woman who had lost her young son. I was determined to communicate with her angels. During our session she started to cry, tears streaming down her face. She said, “I came here because my child is dead.” I could scarcely bear to look at her. If I talked to her child, it would make me a medium, but something was making me continue in spite of myself. “There are a lot of spirits here,” I said weakly. Then I saw a bald, seven-year-old boy lagging behind the other entities. I described the boy, and she told me that her seven-year-old son had died of leukemia. Then she started to cry harder. I told the boy that his mommy wanted to talk to him. It was very important to her. I asked him if he would come forward. “I can’t,” he told me. “Every time I talk to Mommy, she cries. We used to be together all the time. Then I made her sad by becoming sick. I don’t know why she’s still sad. She wanted me to get well, and now I am.” When I told his mother what the boy had said, she was startled at first but then wiped away the tears on her cheeks. She smiled as she hugged me and said, “Thank you. Oh, thank you! I will try to never cry again. Now I can say goodbye and let him be at peace.” That was the last I saw her, but I will never forget her and the little boy who had leukemia. Because of them, I knew that my calling was to be a medium. I knew I could communicate with people who had died, and I knew I could bring comfort to those who loved them.
I spent the following years of my life teaching people that death is the end of a life but not of a relationship. Now when I look into the eyes of a client, I don’t see sadness but instead the courage that enables this person to endure each awakening day.
There is a story of an Orca whale named Tahequah whose baby died shortly after birth. Tahequah could not let her baby go. She could not bare to watch its lifeless body drop deep into the ocean, so instead of letting go, she carried her baby’s body on her back for 17 days. Tahequah’s pod of Orcas swam with her and allowed her to grieve until she was ready to let go. How does a mother let go of her sorrow? All one can ask is for a pod to support you as you carry your grief.