Family, Gift, Guardian Angel, Heaven

Visiting

My experience with spirit has given me a greater respect for the healing sessions that I am called upon to engage in with others. There are times that I am told the back story of a person that has passed and in that there is laughter through tears. There are also times when I am rocked to the core with what is seen and said and it can stop me short.

It was yesterday that I was asked what it is that I do. “I am a Medium,” was my reply. The volunteer coordinator said that she never expected to hear that at all. “Who does that and why or when did you decide to start this?” she asked. We all have this gift, each and everyone of us but there are some that are more aware. We use intuition in our daily lives and yet there are times when we know but we don’t know how we know. Visitations in dreams of our loved one that have passed are mediumistic with this lucidity. As a child I thought you could see what I could see. I was accused of being a daydreamer and quite good at it. It made me miserable though with the night time terror of being watched. Oh if only someone had told me that it was okay and that spirit was meant to comfort me and not create fear. Explaining to this woman that I honed this gift through life experiences and trauma that I was able to stand in this inner strength and knowing. Using my motto, “I want to heal people with healing messages” summed it up.

I have met many people and when we meet it is as strangers and when I leave the session it is as a friend where we hug. Truly I love the looks on people when they gain a “AHA” moment and you know impact has been made. If you are reading this and have received messages through me I thank you. I thank you for entrusting me in something so private and so loved as I delve in your personal space. So much gratitude that I extend.

Gail

Family, Gift, Guardian Angel, Heaven, Letters to Heaven, Love, Loved Ones, Medium

1986

The phone rings. It is the girlfriend. Not mine personally. This one is yours. The hospital bed is available here near where I live. It will be yours to live in for the next month. “When will you be down to visit?” she asks. “I am on my way now.” I state.

The bus takes me to the south side of town. Actually it was a number of buses to get to my destination. So long to wait for it to pick me up, to travel through the city, to get off and wait again. Truly impatient to get to your bedside. My throat is closing, my mind is racing, my heart…is breaking.

The building is the University Hospital. It is night when I come through the doors and state my business to the information desk. They tell me what floor you are on. Up the old elevator, out those doors and down the hallway to your room. It is semi dark in there, like an old time noir film. The nurse behind the curtain that surrounds your bed is with you. I wait until she is done. There is another person here. The girlfriend. She tells me not to take too long . That you require rest.

Isn’t that what you have been doing this past year? I don’t understand. I was told a year ago that you had suffered a stroke and there wasn’t anything I could do. But asked not to visit. I was a single woman with a toddler and no means to travel to the town where you were. So there it is.

The curtain opens. The nurse is gentle with me. She takes my hand and brings me to your side and tells me to talk to you. “He may hear you it’s just that he cannot respond.” she states. “The stroke was massive.” They both stare at me while I look down on you. Having a hard time to process all what is happening. Another nurse comes in and she shows me your feet, that they are turning in. I don’t see what they see. That you going into a fetal position. They are explaining that you will soon go. That your time is near and for me to prepare.

This I remember. I stand at the foot of your bed and try to memorize your feet. They look like mine. Not the dainty feet my mother has but the knobby toes that I would be teased about. My gaze takes me to your face. It is not the face of my animated father but someone else. You don’t appear to be there. You are sleeping. The machines are making you breathe. It is too much for one person to bare. If I ever felt more alone it is now with everyone staring at me. I leave and go home.

My visits to your bedside are frequent but kept to a minimum when the girlfriend is there. It is a feeling on her part, like you are not to be shared. I don’t get it. There is no one to fully support me on this end. Not the new boyfriend. He likes to party. How fully he was into it I did not comprehend. So naive to that way. His friend and him used my space to have their fun and I let them. All that noise if you will dimmed the hurt that was invading my soul.

The call came after 2:35 am. You had passed. My heart broke. You know that feeling. We all share that. The quiet dead in our body. The standing still in our mind. Nothing. I don’t recall anything after that. I do know that time takes care of all the details. There is work to be done. Where are you to be buried. How to get you to High Prairie, AB? The minute details with the funeral director here in Edmonton.

At this time days after I am beholden to strangers for a ride to your home town a few hours away. I take Colin with me. My boyfriend. The baby is kept by my aunt while we are gone for two nights. I am not me. Does this make sense to anyone? I am here but I am not. It is out of body. We arrive at a distant cousin home. Their last name is Cunningham. I am being introduced to people who I have no memory of but they do indeed remember me. I get a lot of, “I knew you when you were this small.” They kept remarking that I resembled my dad. It was so strange. I knew they cared but it felt so foreign. So thrust out in the spotlight.

Feb 28, 1986 It is cold this night. I am impatient to see you. It is the wake and I am seated next to your sister Margaret. She has taken her place next to me. She is my rock, my support. Where did she come from? This is all a blur. The small room is dark and very quiet with the roomful of people. I don’t know what to expect. All I want to do is to run up to your casket. My aunt takes my hand. We walk up to you. You are dressed in your army uniform. Wearing your medals. I say to my aunt, “I was promised those medals” Telling me not to worry that she will make sure that I will get them before he is buried. She does indeed keep her promise. I sit down and cry.

March 1, 1986 Oh it is cold. Biting cold. I stand by the hearse and wait. I stand alone, feet away from you by the back door of the dark green vehicle staring into the back window. Finally they open the door and presently bring you to your graveside. Standing next to you I want to once again hold you in my arms, to tell you how much you were loved by me. That winter day bites into my legs. I am handed a package. It is your medals.

There is the standard luncheon soon after and there are many people brought to my table. Long lost relatives I was kept away from by my mother. They tell me stories about you dad. Still I sit there and it is almost that I cannot hear them. There is white noise in my head. The close relatives we stayed with overnight decide to go to the local bar. There is a country jam and I cannot comprehend that we just buried you and you want to what? go to a bar?? Because we are beholden to these people for a ride back to the house, we go.

The locals in this town all seem to know one another. They know each other’s business for the good and the bad of that. I listen to the gossip, some funny stories some sad and disturbing. I have that respectful demeanor happening right now. So timid. So afraid. One after another many acts come on the stage and it is the last that breaks me. He is a gapped tooth man. The town drunk I am told. Straggly hair tucked into a baseball cap. He saunters onto the stage. It is as if the crowd hold their breathe. And then he sings, “Honey, honey, honey won’t you open that door, this is your sweet baby, don’t you love me anymore, honey won’t you open that door?” But he presents it in a humorous manner that everyone breaks our laughing. Even me. I let loose, laughing loudly. My aunt smiles at me. I cry and laugh. Even through tears I laugh. It is that release, that sweet release I needed.

Dad it is Feb 2, 2019, almost 33 years since you passed on Feb 23, 1986 at 2:37 am. I miss you like crazy. Like now as I write this. I may have you energetically but it is not the same. I want to feel your hugs. Your kisses. The tug of your fingers on my nose as you try to pull it off. Those funny things that daddies do that love their little girls.

P.S. The image of this watch that belonged to my father was worn by me for close to a year when it suddenly stopped on the anniversary of his death, date and time. I woke the next morning and put it on and then seen the time. It has been that way since then.

#333 #Dreams #Visit

Author, Family, Heaven, Letters to Heaven, Love, Loved Ones, Medium, Psychic

Sorry

It was that word I was not to understand when I had my own mediumship reading given to me by a mentor. She was bringing in my father and the one word that stuck out was, “Sorry” It took me days to get my “AHA” moment as it is when you go to a session. This word was given to me a few years ago. It was today that I had a heart to heart talk or the start of one with Dad. If you know my story, then you know he passed away in 1986. I asked him why he would leave me when I needed him the most. I remember those phone calls begging him to take me to his house hundreds of miles of away. I begged him.

My family life was shaky at the best of times and I am being nice for there sake. What was it that my own blood took her anger out on me. I will never know. But I found my dad’s number and phoned him, crying to him, to help me. It was not to be. The only times I was allowed to see him were a couple of weeks in the summer time as I was needed at home to babysit my step brothers and sister. If he came to town which was rare I would sit in his hotel room with him. One of those moments stands out as he was staying at the Cecil Hotel. He shows me his bullet wounds. The old scars on his body. He shows me his medals he received. He tells me that when he dies that I will receive those medals.

When he did pass away and I made my way up north, I talked to his sister Margaret and told her as I looked down on dad in his casket dressed in his uniform and wearing the medals that they were promised to me. It was to be presented to me when they buried him in the cold ground that wintry day. The priest put them in my hand. I felt utterly alone.

But the years pass and all I knew of what I felt of my father was the deep love for him, his essence. The word sorry came to me that day in that reading when I realized what he was saying that for. I told myself at that time it was not needed. But indeed it was. So to get back to that conversation with dad. The deep realization that he knew now what has transpired but had deep sorrow for that. “Where were you when I needed you. Where? Did you not believe me when I told you my stories? Did you not know I was the truth teller?”

Well dad the time has come to now truly forgive you. To let go. This has all come to pass and for all those experiences my body, mind and spirit took I am the better person for it. I only wish you were here physically by my side. You would be 93 though. And I am glad to have heard that word. It means so much to me now.

Much love and huge hugs and lots of kisses to you Dad!

Heaven, Letters to Heaven, Love, Loved Ones, Story Teller

Forgive & Move On

I wake from a dream. It is Colin from the past. He is smiling and shows his love to me as he kisses me. Many years have gone by and I know in my heart he has passed on. I receive his visitations of sorrow and also validations of our life and his dreams. Anyone that abuses has themselves been abused in some form or other. He could never look in the mirror and see truth. I would say positive and he would reply negative. Nothing was good enough. He was not enough. Our relationship was loving at first but stress and a child not your own adds pressure. The yelling and threats followed. But I stayed. I was to overcome though when he threatened to take my house that I bought. I stood up to him.

I could never forgive him and I had my story about him that I told to others. On and on that went. Soon though that energy lessened as I met another man I was to marry. Colin stopped visiting my home and my son. I was not to see him again. It was about two years ago when I started receiving those visitations I spoke of before. His grandmother would be saying he was okay and Colin would be in the background on a ocean oilfield, a dream he always wanted to do. I forgive him now as all the experiences I gained from that time. I stood up to him and with that my boundaries grew stronger. I was standing in my power. My part of this was communication and saying no to the b.s.

I now love the dreams that come in of him and I smile this morning. He looked young and so happy as he smiled at me. I thank you for coming and saying hello spirit!

Adventures, Author, Creative, Family, Gift, Guardian Angel, Heaven, Higher Self

It Just Got Better!

Who knew that my life would amplify? Well it has. Since I have embraced my purpose and put all the love behind it my life has changed exponentially!! I am finally on my path but it did take all those experiences good and bad to get me where I am and to help the people that sit before me in sessions. There are many stories to tell and they truly stand out. Five o’clock wake up time by Spirit as she tells me, “I was invited!” This was the day of a psychic party and as I entered the hostesses kitchen with people sitting around the table remarked about this 5 o’clock wake up call. I carefully described the lady in question to all and then I had a person laugh out loud and say to all, “That’s my Mom!”

Spirit comes in tippy toes or as loud as they were when they were alive. They show me vignettes of their lives, here and there, past and present. Strong attributes come through or memories made to mention. The healing messages do follow, some small and some long as I dictate or scribble down so fast. They also have there own messages to deliver as I have had people present there questions and they come up with something entirely different or they just answer. I never know what it is that I will channel through a session.

So let’s go back to how afraid I was of what I had when I was younger. I overcame that fear and got to where I am now. The anxiety that came as a side has lessened and I express gratitude to all the people that guided me, the workshops and especially my dear auntie. She has brought my family love to me and made me grow like you don’t know!

Adventures, Family, Heaven, Home Sweet Home, Loved Ones, Medium

Did You Hear That?

I sit here this Sunday morning and muse about the events of yesterday morning spent in an old 1930’s bungalow near the city center of Edmonton. Visiting with the local artisan and her niece was such a delight and we spent a few hours talking naturally of interests that were dear to us, namely art and intuition. It was my second time meeting this sweet lady and revelled in her company and in this house. A house for over time that I drove by and always wondered what it looked like with it’s dilapidated back porch hanging on for dear life. It housed a photography studio and then a hairdresser shop but now this dear lady has her art studio with all her wonderful works there.

We sat in the old dining room with it’s built in cupboards, this after looking over the spacious rooms with her niece, her first time there. Hardwood floors, wood work around each doorway, built in cupboards in kitchen and dining room, roomy closets and that claw tub was to die for! I sound like a realtor pushing but it was a sight to behold. We talked each telling story after story about life experiences. Every once in a while I would have that similar feeling when I am do readings for clients. It’s a definite heaviness in my chest. It’s not uncomfortable but a definiteness there. I would then say to the ladies, “There is a man here wearing a 1940’s style of pants and rolled up shirt sleeves. Large forearms. He is standing in this room.” We would all agree and then continue on with our conversation. Every once in a while we would collectively get up to check out her art and then I would spy children on the stairway, a boy curiously looking at us.Sitting in my chair my sweater was pulled and I felt it on my skin as the artisan remarked that she had seen it move. Again, pretty groovy! I told my friend that I could hear laughter and running, they were so happy. This was a happy household. We all went back to the dining room to resume partaking of the hot coffee and cookies and talking excitedly to each other. It was like meeting up with old friends. As I was saying something we all heard a noise in the kitchen. The owner remarked that it was the top of a container now on the floor. A few minutes later a folded up chair behind the glass doors fell and in turn moved the door. We seen it happen before our eyes. There was no way for that chair to do that, no energy to push it. Continuing on again as if nothing happened. To me, it was pretty cool. Again the artisan wanted to show us something, this after a card on a easel was pushed over, another anomaly in this huge home. As I left the dining room I looked over to the fireplace and seen a brilliant bright light and knew without a doubt Spirit was here. Talking more as we moved from dining room to living room and back again I heard the sound of children running through the kitchen to the back porch which by the way no longer existed. The sound of a back porch screen door as it banged and the mother yelling to keep it shut. By the by the old back porch which had been previously been there was now replaced with a modern deck.

So this is how I spent my day yesterday in this old home that I finally did get to see with it’s past life intact in spirit of course. The artisan had asked me to walk through the house on the first visit which I did but being in an hurry was not to experience the going on’s at that time. I am sure a nice relaxed visit like the one we had where we were talking of mutual interests brought out the lively household where halcyon days were spent with much laughter and loud rambunctious children.