She was brushing her teeth before bed when she glanced in the mirror and saw her dead grandmother standing behind her. She flew out of the bathroom, into the living room, and into her mother’s arms. She was anxious. But her anxiety was not about having just seen her beloved Nana, it was about whether her mother would believe her. “Do you believe me? Do you really believe me?” Glances passed between the adults before her mother said, “Yes sweetheart, I believe you.” But a question hung in the air and the girl could feel it. Yes, she had an active imagination. Imagination being one of those adult code words for ‘beyond reality’ and ‘fabricated’. But she had seen her Nana. She knew it.
* * *
Last year I had a session with an intuitive. I thought I would check on my parents. Although I know the spirit realms are real, I was not fully prepared for what would unfold. My Irish granddad was the first to show up. “Dia dhuit!”, he greeted me in Irish. My father did most of the communicating. He was delighted that I had purchased a cottage near his favorite Irish village, a purchase made a full year after he died. He wanted me to know that he knew about my breast cancer, and pointedly added he knew I had not told him. He had been so lost in dementia that the care givers advised against it. And he was adamant about my remembering a place we had been together in Ireland, a place I now think must have been in a past life together. There was much more packed into that half hour session and it was all amazing.
I called my brother. After two years he was still struggling with Dad’s absence and I wondered if a session might be healing for him. He was fascinated but skeptical. And he went to the place that I find many go to when I speak of my session. He suggested that much of what was revealed could have been learned in a web search. Because initially that was the only explanation he could find for what I was telling him. But there were too many specifics that no web search would find. Plus, I argued, the session is only twenty five dollars which barely covered the session let alone any research. By this time my brother was intrigued. And he booked a session.
His doubts were dispelled within the first minutes when Dad showed up and wanted my brother to know he was doing bloody fantastic. One of Dad’s favorite phrases. One you would never find in a Google search. The session was healing for my bother. And it was transforming. Because in that half hour he came to a knowing that the spirit realms are real and that death is not the end. And that was the greatest gift. He, like our scientist father, had always believed there was nothing after death. Now he doesn’t just believe there is life after death, he knows it.
Do you believe me? There was a time when that would never have been a question. There was a time when our ancestors knew this to be true. It was a knowing. A knowing we have lost.
Judith – email@example.com