For me, the passing of animals has come with incredible grief and sadness. Having lost many of my family has also given me cause to grieve. But, I feel this one story explains the sorrow and the joy I've found in love and loss. As psychics we must be honest and face up to the challenges of death and grieving.
One day when I was 9 years old, my Mom found me crying under the Bougainvillea vines blooming in our Southern California backyard. I was burying one of those store bought green pet shop turtles that were so common back then. I was devastated. My mother had put on her red lipstick, and with her M. S. in remission she was back to her beautiful best. Dark reddish black hair and soft brown eyes. She crawled under the bush with me, smiling to me. She said she was proud of me for being able to grieve, I understand now it is an expression of love. She said many of the things that have become the cornerstone of my work. But she spoke with candor.
With a little preparation she said, "Death is what gives life it's meaning." "Without death life would be interminable." "We never really loose the people you love." "Even with things like divorce, separation and death, as long as we remember them, that person is always with us." Speaking as the psychic, I know all too well exactly of what she speaks. I am frequently visited by Mom, my Dad and my younger Brother. Small consolation to those of you who don't have on going relations with your deceased family members, but I am glad that I can often feel them very clearly. I know this is not the norm and that from most peoples perspective, what I'm talking about is just hear say. I do find however that when I share my awareness of that love that survives the death of someone we love, that has loved us, there is a boost. An actual palpable love can come to us all at once when we share in someones passing. There may be nothing cosmic or dramatic about finding that love of someone in passing, but it can give us cause to celebrate the lives of those who enrich us. (Present tense.)
The story goes on with my Mom telling me about an even more silly grieving she shared with my Dad before their divorce, even before we kids were born. My parents were driving back from Mexico with a large painted ceramic Bull in the back window of their Studebaker. Coming to a sudden traffic stop somewhere near Oceanside, the symbol of their passion shattered on the floor of the back seat. They proceeded to bury the pieces of the Bull in the sand of the beach. They were crushed. My Mom explained that what the bull meant was something my father would tell me about someday. This is one of the first times I got to see someone reach through time and communicate passed death. So be it that my mother let me know that even after my parents divorce that she still loved my Dad.
Many years later, after my Mom and later my Brother passed, my Dad took me to the family burial plot in a lovely tree lined cemetery. I told my Dad about the story my Mom had told me. And about how we never really loose the people we love. He says, "If I let you keep talking, sooner or later you say something that's really interesting." "The Bull was the symbol of my virility."
I think my father very much liked being remembered fondly by my Mom, even after a necessary divorce. This post is dedicated to my dear friend who works with many of us in our moments of need, he knows who he is.
