I walked into the room hesitant, skeptical, and was told to sit in a chair across the table. The room was relaxed, comfortable, but nevertheless, I was glad to be facing the door instead of having my back to it. An old trauma response that keeps me alert, especially in strange places.
Immediately after I sat down she said, “People are already starting to show.”
I stuck to my plan, staying quiet, not wanting to give her much. However, I also realized that all one has to do is google my name, check out my novels and website, or read some of the news articles where I was transparent about my mental health. They could listen to a podcast or a radio interview, or even find the few podcasts I did with my mom and they would have a fairly clear picture of who I am. I have been transparent in hopes of helping others. However, the reality is that no one, especially a Medium who is booked up three months in advance, would have time to read, listen, and research it all. Perhaps, they wouldn’t even have the interest. The best she could do is get a glimpse, maybe enough to know that my mother had died and how she crossed over.
My wife decided to send me to the Medium. I know it has to be rough watching your husband grieve for his mother, which brings up other deaths and past traumas.
“Wow! I have not seen this many people show up for one person before. You must be very open and spiritual,” she said.
She told me that she cannot control who shows, and that she would often be looking away from me, not to be rude, but to communicate with them, the dead. I continued to nod, wondering if people that I have known have shown up? Are they here? Is my mom here? My sister? Dad? Father-in-law, Dave? My friends David and Richard? Grandparents? I will admit, a flood of emotions started to fill my chest and my blood seemingly flowed faster through my veins and the hairs on my arms started to rise. The anticipation of communication with those who crossed over felt overwhelming.
Now, I know many people have various spiritual and religious beliefs, and that is okay. To each his own, but I know that I have seen too much in my lifetime to know that there is more out there than just us. It’s why I always feel a little sad for atheists because they must not have experienced enough of life in order to understand that there is a God. Christ was real. Heaven is real. Spirits are all around us. Still, my skepticism was on the table as I listened to this woman start to communicate with the dead that came to visit.
“This is your father,” she said, as she looked away from me, to her left.
My mind suddenly raced and I thought, “What the fuck! Why is he here? Did he come back to torment me some more?”
“And here is your mother,” she said.
“Your dad is funny. He’s a little mischievous. He’s also very handsome.”
I sat silent, waiting to see what would come next. I did not want to give her any leads, any indication of who people were that I have lost. She needed to tell me.
She began to narrate, “Your mom really loves you. I can tell that you were close.”
I will not write everything that happened or was said. The details of everything told to me could fill fifty pages. What I will say is that I came in a skeptic, not expecting much, and left in tears. In fact, I had to pull over in a parking lot of a plumbing business and break down for a while before I could actually process what had just happened. The Medium was able to tell me things that she could not have known without the assistance of the people that I have lost.
My mom and dad communicated the most. I was relieved to see my mom was okay, no longer in pain, and surprised to be told that they were “reunited.” Hell, she killed the man while hallucinating in hospice care. The Medium said that they were first loves, which is true, and loved each other now. Actually, my mom and dad did love one another, they just had a relationship that was meant to break into a thousand pieces.
My grandfather stepped forward. That’s my mom’s father. It was a brief encounter and the Medium said, “He died when you were very young.”
She continued to talk about a woman who stood off to the side from my parents. This woman she could not figure out, and I did not help her, but I knew who it was right away. She was describing the personality of my sister, Charlotte, to a tea. It was as if Charlotte was standing right there across from me, and in a way, I guess she was.
The Medium continued to tell me that others wanted to come forward but she had to stay focused on my mom, dad, and sister. I do wonder if my friends were there? I wonder if David was going to tell me why he killed himself? Was there anything I could have done? These are questions that I have carried with me for almost twenty years and will continue to.
As I mentioned, there was a lot of information, so much so that my mind was spinning a little, making me both hopeful and weary. The information was provided in a way, and in detail, that I knew they had to be there in the room with me. I am comforted by ghosts.
At the end she said, “It’s time for you to ask some questions.”
I gave it my best shot, a question that was asked in December of 1995. “I have a question for my dad that I asked him when he was dying that he never answered.”
The Medium wrote something down on the notebook in front of her, “He just answered it but go ahead and ask the question.”
“Did he ever love me?” I asked.
She had her hand on top of what she wrote, his answer, and then she lifted her hand to show the word, “No.”
I could hear the wind hitting the window and my heart was pounding. I lost my breath for a moment and then tears filled my eyes as I had the answer that I always knew. My father never did love me.
“I’m so sorry, but I can’t lie to you,” she said.
“I would never want you to. I already knew. Our relationship was volatile. It was incoherent, muddled, and is a part of my story.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I am,” I said. “I forgave him years ago because I needed to in order to heal.”
“Forgiveness is so powerful. He does love you now,” she said. “He just said that he wasn’t capable of love. He didn’t know how.” Apparently, my dad’s parents came forward at that time.
Many would be upset by this. They would be upset to find out what they already knew, that someone did not love them, especially a parent. For me, it was closure. It is a chapter of my life that I might be able to close the last page to and move on, creating new stories. It’s a smudged, ink stained page, but nevertheless, a page that can be turned.
The Medium said, “You broke the cycle. Your mom said you are a kind and caring man, and your dad knows that too.”
Yes, I did break the cycle. I try to be a good man, loving to my wife, and offering what I can to the world to help them. I am human so I falter often, but I try. I swear I try to give what I can in order to help others to heal. The cycle is broken, but I can mend a lost relationship and lost love by living my best life, in the moment, and to the fullest. I will swallow it all and absorb what the sunsets bring me.
What I do know is that I had a mother who gave me enough love to fill a lifetime. She gave me enough love to make me ache for her loss.
I have to wonder, one day, hopefully a long time from now, will I come to visit someone while they sit at a table with a Medium? I hope they do not ever have to ask the question, “Did he ever love me?” I will make sure of that.
