Although the messages I shared in my first ever reading were warmly welcomed by my newly-widowed neighbor and her young daughter, I struggled to find the words to explain what had occurred when my husband asked. It was overwhelming to explain that the image of the tattoo I had seen in my mind’s eye actually existed on his brother’s arm and that the word ocean and pillow had more meaning to them than I had imagined possible.
I called my mom, begging her to come and watch my daughters, needing to be completely alone. I kissed them goodbye and started walking as quickly as my legs would carry me, my mind beginning a conversation of its own, what is happening? I asked, is this real?
A calming warmth settled in on my right side, a soft male voice coming in above my ears:“You are safe.” My heavy heart lifted with his words. “You are just beginning to see. Trust.” An image of a Native American headdress appeared as though it was floating beside me. My legs still moved forward but it kept my pace and continued. “How.”
How? mimicked, replying silently in my head.
“How.” He repeated, not as a question but more as a statement. “How.”
Oh, How, I nodded, somehow understanding that this was his name.
His energy became brighter, now showing the outline of a man’s body, headdress atop his head, his face depicted solely by a bright white light, a long almost staff-like weapon in his hand.
I nodded hello to someone walking by, my whole body shaky as I imagined she could tell I was conversing with someone who wasn’t there.
“You are safe,” he repeated, raising his weapon.“You’re going to see my daughter,” The male voice continued. I cocked my head, trying to understand how this entity that I had categorized as a spirit guide — from my little knowledge on the subject —had a connection in the world now. The outline of a woman appeared in front of me, as I shuffled my feet onto a dirt path, hoping to avoid any further contact with humans. The image then shifted quickly into a younger version of the same woman. Oh I am going to see your granddaughter, I somehow concluded, my chest tightening, already sensing the next request.
“I want you to tell her I am here,” the voice stated.
“Nope,” I exhaled out loud, stomping my foot on the earth.
“Please,” the voice came again.
I shook my head, hoping to push it all away, my eyes welling with tears as a new energy appeared from my left side, almost as though the air conditioner sprang to life on a hot day. The softness welcomed me to take a seat on a bench in a secluded area surrounded by sand and trees.
“Lily,” floated through the air above my ears, as I registered it as the name of the female energy taking a seat beside me, her long flowing gown composed of hundreds of softly fluttering butterflies fanning out across the bench. Her face appeared as a light without any distinct features.
“What is happening?” I whispered out loud, leaning in closer as though she couldn’t hear me if I did not. My mind now warned me that I was indeed talking to someone or something that was completely invisible to the eye. I am going crazy. I decided, before she could reply.
Lily’s calm energy remained steady despite a moment of my utter panic when a dog walker passed by, my mind telling me that they too could see my insanity. I finally settled into a calm sense of wonder as Lily shared that she had always been with me, reminding me that as a child I imagined having my own personal angel named Rose, and that they were one in the same.
I smiled as I replied back to her in my head, “Same energy, different flower.” After pausing I finally asked, “Is this all really happening?”
“It is,” she replied. “You are experiencing the world in a new way.”
Although tears of fear were streaming down my face, I knew I could trust her word and my heart relaxed completely for the first time in days. As the sun shone down on us, we no longer needed to speak. It was as though I had always known this would occur, it was just time for me to believe.
I wanted to stay there forever, but my now milk-filled breasts called me back into my body, beckoning me to get back into the human plane and feed my daughter. With a deep sigh, I thanked Lily and rose up off the bench, ready to take this newfound trust with me.
I floated back along the path home, my mind and body at ease. A block or so later, though, my mind came thundering in loudly. You are crazy. This is crazy. You just had conversations with figments of your imagination. You need to snap out of this. My whole body rattled with anxious pings.
As I approached a grassy knoll, A male voice penetrated above my ears: “That’s my granddaughter over there.”
NOPE! my mind shouted. My whole body electrified with fear as I tried to get my feet to move faster, my gaze focused on two young women chatting on the field.
“Please tell her that Henry says hello,” the voice continued.
Oh you are separate from How, I noted, realizing that the male voices were all sounding this same deep tone,making it difficult to differentiate between who was speaking. My head began to spin, my mind screaming at me to get out of there, my body struggling to move.
It was as though an invisible wall appeared. Each time I attempted to take a step forward my legs angled me more toward the women.
I am not doing this, I argued loudly at the incoming voice before it had time to speak.
“Please tell her that her Grandfather Henry says hello.”
As much as my mind wanted to sprint away, my legs continued to carry me closer and closer to them, now walking at an odd circular angle as the resistance didn’t let up. I finally gave in once they both glanced up at me, clear that I had entered their personal space.
A strong warm energy enveloped the woman on the right and I instinctively knew she was the one he was referring to. My mouth awkwardly hung open, not sure how to begin.
“Um,” I mumbled. “Hi.” I said as I shifted heavily between my feet, unsure of where to place my hands. I clasped them together in front of me, hoping my own palms would support me in what I was about to say.
“Did either of you have a grandfather named Henry that passed away?”
My throat too dry to swallow, I stared at my clammy hands, struggling to meet their gaze.
“No,” snapped the woman to my left, her brow furrowed as she too shifted her stance, one hip protruding her air of skepticism tangible.
The blood rushed loudly through my ears as my mind shouted, Run! Get out of here while you still have an ounce of sanity left!
“Well,” the woman to my right said, her face brightening, “Well my grandfather’s name was John Henry, but some people called him Henry,” she replied.
My mouth fell agape, my mind now searching for words I couldn’t find.
“I’m a medium, which means I can connect to souls that have crossed over,” poured out of my lips, repeating a line I had heard countless times before during my obsessive phase of watching the Long Island Medium.
What are you saying? My mind argued, you are NOT a medium! The intensity of my thoughts made it difficult to hear the woman share fond memories of her grandfather.
“Did he walk with a walker?” I blurted out, interrupting my thoughts and her, as an image of a man with a walker appeared over my third eye center.
“He had a wheelchair,” she replied.
“Oh,” I said, my mind already chanting again that I had gotten it wrong as the image now shifted to images of him getting younger and younger as he stood up straight. “He wants you to know he doesn’t need it anymore. He can walk, and dance!” I added as the floating image began to bust a move.
She smiled, reminiscing about how he used to dance with her even in his wheelchair. My thoughts wandered again while she excitedly shared about how much she loved him.
What are you doing? I asked myself, oddly aware of my panting breath, ready to escape from this whole scenario.
“He just wanted you to know he loves you and is proud of you,” I managed to get out, needing to get home, my now leaking breasts reminded me I had other responsibilities to attend to.
“Thank you,” she replied as I awkwardly stumbled over my own feet, waving goodbye, not even able to mutter a reply.
“Now you must believe this is real,” Henry’s voice chimed in over my heavy footsteps.
“But how come you said Henry and not John?” I asked.
“Well, you would have convinced yourself that John was too common of a name and the chances of someone knowing a John is higher than average. I used Henry because it’s what you both needed to hear in order believe.”
Oh, was all I could manage, as I walked out of the spirit communication and back into the chaos of my home.
To be continued next week in my newsletter...