Don't Kiss Them Good-bye Read online

  Some people are better than others at listening to their intuition. They may appear to go through life blessed because everything always works out for them. I believe many of these people are indeed blessed, thanks partly to their willingness to listen to their gut feelings, which help them to make the right choices and to know what or whom to avoid.

  Some people choose not to listen to their gut feelings, so they take the long way, filled with pitfalls. Some people don’t trust themselves enough to believe in their own intuition. What a mistake. The voice guiding you wants what is best for you. Listen to it.

  Some people save the lives of others by listening to their guides. I am referring to the doctors and nurses who use their intuition and empathy to heal the sick and give patients the best possible care. It may mean running a test for a patient that is atypical just because they are moved to do so, or having a patient stay an extra night at the hospital just in case. There’s no real logical reason for the decision; it’s simply based on an urgent feeling.

  Of course, the majority of medical decisions are based on sound information and experience. I am not dismissing their education. Clearly that’s important. I am simply acknowledging that a spiritual contribution often comes through in their work.

  If you happen to be in the medical field, please remember to take time for yourself. When you leave the hospital, cleanse yourself of earthbound spirits. People who have endured great physical pain or trauma or who die suddenly are often in shock following their deaths. Sometimes, especially in hospitals, earthbound spirits will attach themselves to people with whom they feel comfortable. Some spirits don’t even realize they’ve died; they think they’re simply spending time with their doctor, nurse, or loved one.

  Even if you don’t think you have any spirits lingering around you, it doesn’t hurt to say, “Go to the light and you will find your loved ones waiting for you.” This will keep them from hanging around you and weighing you down.

  Also remember to not be too hard on yourself when you have done your best and your patient dies anyway. As I stated earlier, sometimes it’s just not in our hands.

  Law enforcement is another field in which people act on hunches and gut feelings. People in this field tend to take their work home with them, because they are constantly around criminals and toxic entities. If you work in law enforcement, you need to remember that all the negative energy you absorb can take a toll on your health. You must remember to take time for yourself to focus on happy, positive things.

  Of course, that advice goes for anyone who lets the stresses of life get to them. For all those with stressful, high-pressure jobs that are seemingly without end (yes, that includes motherhood), it is important to take care of yourself.

  Chapter 8

  Painful Living,

  Peaceful Good-byes

  One of my most memorable experiences with the other side took place in May 2000 while I was in Washington, D.C., for a conference. The many striking monuments mesmerized me and I was enjoying all the important sights in the area. I have always had an interest in the history of the United States and had especially wanted to visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, so Joe and I set off to do just that.

  We walked down the path, taking in the black marble memorial wall. We sat on a bank overlooking the Reflecting Pool while I shared with my husband what I saw. Two apparitions of American soldiers were at the edge of the pool, one kneeling and one standing. The kneeling soldier was closer to me, no more than twenty feet away; his gun lay on the ground next to him.

  I pointed to the area where the soldier knelt and began describing the scene to my husband, when the soldier quickly turned around; he realized that I was talking about him. The earthbound spirit approached me and waved his hand vigorously in front of my face. At this point he was no more than a few inches away.

  I addressed him: “Yes, I can see you.”

  As soon as the words rolled out of my mouth, the soldier, whom I will call Sarge since he was a sergeant, started showing me what had happened to him in Vietnam. It haunted him still.

  He was showing me the images as if I were watching a home movie. I saw a thatched hut with a woman inside. Sarge was behind a tree or shrubbery on a small embankment looking down at her. The woman was Vietcong. She had been setting up American soldiers to be ambushed and killed. Sarge was to throw a grenade into her hut and put an end to the “enemy.”

  He was a good soldier. He wanted to help win the war for his country, which meant that he had to carry out his orders. He saw killing the enemy as saving his friends and comrades from certain death. While the grenade was mid-flight, Sarge heard a baby cry. The baby must have belonged to the Vietcong woman. The hut, the Vietcong woman, and the baby were blown up.

  Sarge was beside himself. He was going to war to be a good American, but to him kids were off limits. This was one thing for which he could never forgive himself. Sarge was so overcome by grief that he put himself in the line of fire while in combat. He could not live with being responsible for the death of an innocent child. He figured that since his life was no longer worth anything (as he saw it), then at the very least he could maybe save one of his buddies by trading in his own life. Sarge was successful in getting himself killed.

  I was advised by my guides to tell him what he needed to hear. I looked at him as I tried to regain my composure and said, “I forgive you, we all forgive you, and we know that you didn’t mean to hurt that baby.”

  Sarge’s young face, wrenched by pain, suddenly relaxed and his skin developed a golden glow. I had been able to do for Sarge what he couldn’t do for himself: provide forgiveness. Sarge smiled and stepped back. At the same time, shadowy figures of his family, friends, and fellow soldiers who had waited a long time for Sarge were there to “take him home.”

  Although Sarge was a soldier, he was also a sensitive young man with a lot of questions about right and wrong. I haven’t shared his story so that others could sit in judgment of him; this isn’t about the war or the taking of a life. I have shared the story so that others might learn to forgive themselves for their own mistakes in life, realizing that when we die we carry over our regrets. Forgiveness is not always easy, but it is vital to our existence.

  Sarge gave me his rank and his full name. My husband and I looked him up in the book of names at the monument and he was there. And in case you are wondering, his name was not common, like Smith or Jones. I will not disclose it, out of respect for his surviving family.

  I think it’s important to share Sarge’s story with others who have lost family members, friends, and other important loved ones in war. I want people to know that when they talk to the spirits of loved ones or visit memorials of our veterans, those on the other side hear their words.

  Also, many of the young men who went to war carry heavy burdens with them. What matters is that we remember that many soldiers have paid a high price for our free country and they did it with love for us. This was one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had, and I am grateful I was able to share it with such an incredible spirit.

  Many soldiers’ spirits remain at the monument. Most of them are not there out of guilt. In essence, they are there out of their own pride in dying for their country and, as they saw it, for their family’s security. The soldiers on the other side enjoy seeing people come to pay tribute to them, and they especially love seeing their surviving buddies come to the memorial. Some soldiers can’t believe that such monuments were erected just for them (they’re humble). I saw many spirits walking in the area of the Vietnam Memorial and strolling alongside the Reflecting Pool. They are all around us and continue to share moments with us all. I will never forget my encounter with Sarge on that hot day in May.

  I had intended to have this chapter be limited to my experience with Sarge. However, I told Joe that somehow it didn’t seem finished, and that I would wait to see what event would complete it.

  Six months after I first worked on this chapter, history was made when Americ
a was attacked on September 11, 2001. Nineteen Arab terrorists hijacked four commercial planes and wreaked havoc on our country. We all cried as we watched people desperately searching for their missing loved ones at Ground Zero in New York. These were no ordinary tears that we cried. We were a united front, crying for people we had never met before. The collective sadness and the extent of our loss was overwhelming.

  I am not an overtly emotional woman. My best friend says I seem to be the emotional equivalent of a man, meaning I am uncomfortable crying and showing extreme emotion. I feel very deeply for people, but I keep my feelings inside.

  I remember sitting on the edge of the couch, my eyes fixed on the TV, staring at the aftermath of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon disasters. I could not mentally digest that a group of terrorists had tried to kill our president along with thousands of others. When “The Star Spangled Banner” was played at the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, my heart swelled with pride. I also felt love for our friends in other countries who shared our sense of loss.

  People often ask me whether all people have some good in them, deep down. My answer is no. I believe that all children have good inside them that only needs to be elicited. I realize that medical exceptions may exist, but I am talking about the majority.

  But adults are different. Somewhere in between childhood and adulthood we can lose our sense of conscience if we’re not careful.

  Osama bin Ladin truly scares me, because he’s a lunatic. I believe bin Ladin is someone we can’t even begin to reason with. He comes from a completely different place, one we can never truly understand. What a wonderful difference he could have made in this world if he had put all that money and effort into something positive.

  I want to tell the families and friends who lost loved ones in this cowardly terrorist attack that the victims were not alone when they passed. Their family members on the other side were there when called, and they sheltered those who were about to join them. From the other side, the mothers, fathers, grandparents and others took those loved ones home quickly and lovingly. In some cases, intervention was possible. That is why some people were saved, such as those who were late to work that day due to traffic jams or other delays.

  As I watched the towers fall, I had a vision. I saw a woman in a blazer and skirt; she was huddled on the ground next to a desk. She was scared and she was praying as the building crumbled around her. I started to feel anger that she had to die this way. In that moment I saw the strongest, kindest, golden-white light descend through the ceiling above her and as it lowered, settling over her, it took the shape of a hand. In that swift and loving gesture, the woman’s fear was removed and she knew that she was no longer alone.

  There are psychics who wouldn’t write about such a thing because it touches on religion. I don’t care; the hand wasn’t wearing a religious symbol or preaching. The hand was that of a god whose only intention was to show some level of mercy. The hand of this higher power covered people, shielding some of them from certain death. The same hand swiftly carried over those that he needed to call home. We might not understand why certain people lived and others died, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some sort of plan.

  I know that I wasn’t the only person who wanted to jump into my television set and help New York’s police and firefighters sift through the rubble. That rubble contained our brothers and sisters. We are forever changed. The terrorists tried to defeat America and failed. They did succeed, however, in uniting the rest of us as never before.

  God bless the brave people who wrestled the terrorists on flight 93 and saved countless lives. If I live to be a hundred, their actions will always move me to tears. I am in awe. Thank you to our pilots, flight attendants, passengers, firefighters, police officers, and all those who lost their lives that day. Thank you for gracing the world with your presence. We are humbled by your bravery and by the magnitude of what your were forced to endure. They are beyond words.

  The attacks changed America in many ways. Some of them are blessings in disguise. For example, many people who have lost their jobs are asking themselves if they want to explore a different field that might be more spiritually fulfilling. I have family members who have been affected by the layoffs. It’s amazing to see people who were once climbing the white-collar ladder of success and are now considering firefighting because they want to fill the voids in their souls.

  September 11 has made people ask what is really important in life and how they can make a difference. It has brought about much soul-searching. This is an opportunity for people to realize that they can change the course of their lives. It’s never too late. To me, the worst thing you can do with your life is squander it.

  Children have so many dreams, and they find laughter and joy in so many ways. Sometimes adults get so bogged down in making their credit card payments that they forget there is more to life. Sometimes we forget that we can become whatever we want and our age shouldn’t be an issue.

  Can you imagine if we didn’t have people willing to go out on a limb to create change in our world? If we didn’t have people who believe in joy? We wouldn’t have places like Disneyland. Talk shows exploring spirituality and personal happiness wouldn’t exist. My best advice for those looking for fulfillment? Strike out on your own, and be able to look back on your life and say, “I did that.” When a good idea pops into your head, don’t dismiss it. Dare to care about what matters to you, and be strong enough to stand your ground against naysayers.

  I look at my own life and I feel so fulfilled and blessed in doing what I do. I am under constant scrutiny, always being asked, “Do you really believe that people still exist after they die?”

  I always answer, “Oh, yes. I’m one of the few people in the world who is sure they do.”

  Often I hear “I am a skeptic; I don’t believe in an afterlife.” My answer is skeptics they will know for sure after they die. It’s true!

  No matter how many slams I receive, I will gladly endure them. They’re a small price to pay for such a blessed life.

  Chapter 9

  Little Things

  I have included this chapter to share with you some of the little things that we human beings tend to take for granted in life. These are the same things that we cherish most after we lose a loved one. It is often the little things that poignantly connect us to the other side. Being able to provide the name of a deceased loved one is good, but sentimental details are more personal and confirm the authenticity of the connection to someone on the other side.

  I realized after countless readings that the little things are important because what may seem insignificant to most people is a priceless, soothing detail to another. My clients have contributed the following readings so that you can share their feelings from revisiting loved ones who have passed away. Each reading has touched me and taught me something new about being a medium.

  Occasionally the information I communicate to my client doesn’t make sense to him at the time of the reading and he looks quite perplexed. Usually within a couple of weeks I receive a telephone call or card from that client coupled with a story that sheds light on the previously unfamiliar details. Some new experience or discovery has made the information I gave pertinent.

  In other situations, the intensity of a good reading can mean that it takes time for the client to process all the information being received. I’ve gotten first names, middle names, last names, cities, car models, favorite food dishes, you name it. After all the efforts I made to give the most impressive information possible, what I found mattered most was the small stuff. One of the many lessons that I’ve learned from the other side is that it’s the little things that are powerful enough to tear down the toughest walls of disbelief.

  Holding Hands with the

  Other Side

  I once did a reading for a beautiful, effervescent sixteen-year-old girl, whom I’ll call Lisa; Lisa had recently lost her best friend, whom I’ll call Kim, in a horrible car accident, and s
he needed closure surrounding Kim’s death. Kim came through and shared many messages that were significant to Lisa; among other things, she talked about a pinball machine that they had played often, and told Lisa about a so-called friend who didn’t have Lisa’s best interests at heart.

  Lisa wanted to be sure of my ability, so she threw out names and then asked me to comment on the people. I didn’t mind being tested. I prefer to receive limited information from clients, so the impact of the information I give them is greater. And I enjoy a challenge, as long as it’s not delivered out of anger. I was on target with the people Lisa tested me on, but Kim didn’t feel that Lisa was getting the full message. Kim then provided me with information that was intended to get Lisa’s attention. I turned to her and said, “Lisa, who is number eleven? I am being shown a sports jersey with the number eleven on the back.”

  Lisa’s paused and said, “That’s me. I am number eleven on my high school basketball team.”

  So two best friends who had done everything together until parted by death were able to reconnect. I explained to Lisa that the information was given to me by Kim in order to get her full attention so that she would take the information to heart. Kim is still watching out for Lisa and loving her. Lisa had no doubt that Kim was with us that afternoon and is still walking through life with her.

  Mom

  I have many clients who have lost a parent. It’s hard to let go of parents. Either you were lucky in having a good relationship and now you miss them, or they were never there for you and you need a connection to experience closure. It is completely understandable that either of these are painful enough to require closure.