The days after my mother’s passing were solemn ones which is why the lighthearted reunion with dearly departed relatives shortly before her transition was such a balm for the soul.
For me, communications like this never get old. An acquaintance once said, “There’s enough magic for me in the natural world so why bother looking for it in another?” But experiencing the so-called magic in what can turn out to be a gobsmacking connection is not my primary incentive for remaining open to such exchanges.
The revelations that come forth are what make the experience worthwhile for me. Watching episodes of medium Tyler Henry’s readings with celebrities, one quickly sees how an exchange with a loved one beyond the veil often removes a burden of guilt—whether the cause is one’s absence during a loved one’s passing; the decision to end life support; crucial words left unsaid. In other instances, the reading provides a golden opportunity to forgive or to be forgiven.
A “departed” relative or friend may well be the one who relieves those left behind of a persistent worry or unanswered question, especially after death by suicide or another traumatizing demise. Here’s the soul’s chance to give counsel, even to bring closure to an unresolved issue.
In “Between Two Worlds,” medium Tyler Henry goes on to cite five more dividends of after-death-communication/ADC. An illustration from my own experience follows each one:
“The departed want us to know that life continues on,
so that we on earth can live freer lives, with less fear.”
Years ago, after I connected with my dad during a first reading, he acted on two more opportunities in quick succession to provide me with support and advice. Through three different strangers he revealed his desire to assist me on my path—encouraging me, for example, to “do something outside the box.”
Over a decade later and in greater detail, the encouragement came again, this time from a collective of wise guides known as Spirit. At last, I was finally ready to leave behind the metaphorical “box” described in the first post of this blog. Heeding their deeper wisdom has been liberating, the purpose of my life now much clearer.
And whether via a gifted psychic relative or friend, a professional medium with such abilities, or a direct exchange without need of a conduit, a core message has remained the same. It’s that another chapter follows physical death—the prospect of which frees me to live out this life with more verve and less fear.
“The departed have an enlightened perspective to share, which
can improve the quality of life of those they left behind.”
Peter, in particular, has come through periodically to encourage, advise, enlighten, even amuse me with a “big-picture perspective” characteristic of many who have transitioned to the Other Side. He’s reached out to others as well, with the hope that they recognize his energetic signature and receive his loving messages.
Through Liv, these include communications to: a friend he addressed as “brother” urging the further opening of his heart; two Search Institute colleagues, via notes of encouragement dictated in advance to Liv; another friend whose “quiet work” stirred in Pete strong emotion and an expression of gratitude; yet another, at the end of her life here, with specifics about what to expect on the Other Side; and our youngest grandson who, with matter-of-fact regularity, relayed numerous illuminating messages after Pete’s transition.
“The departed fulfill their own soul lessons, by communicating,
having their voices heard, and being able to give back to those they love.”
On a recent memorable evening with a decades-old small group of friends, I played a digital recording of a one hour-long session with Spirit, a portion, in particular, during which Pete excitedly communicated about the work he is doing on the Other Side. His energy and sense of humor were very much in evidence. So was his focus, celebrating collaboration that is the norm there for all; one friend remarked that the merits of competition vs collaboration had been a topic of more than one of their private conversations and an inner challenge for Pete during his life.
Pete reflected on how he sees now that one’s commitments, to have any real impact, must come from a place of joy. One of us, feeling “less than” or “not enough” on that particular day, had an “Aha!” moment arising from Pete’s insight that brought her to tears of relief and gratitude. It was a beautiful connection—Peter able to “give back to those he loved in life and still loves.
“The departed want us to know that we aren’t alone.”
Overwhelmed by a flood of feelings, I was sitting in a hotel room in Santa Fe—my first visit after Pete’s passing to the city we both adored, where we’d even claimed a patch of earth there to call our own. Daughter Liv was in an airport elevator returning from a conference when an overpowering tsunami of emotion—her dad’s—rushed through her. He agreed to wait long enough for her to get to her parking space and make a call to me from the car.
When I answered the phone, it was Liv—and Peter—beginning an unforgettable exchange that lasted almost an hour. He imparted lots of messages, but the underlying one in all of them was that despite “appearances,” none of us is ever really alone. Loved ones and guides walk with us every step of the way.
“The departed want to reassure us about
their deaths and about death in general.
During a recent session with Spirit, Liv couldn’t help chuckling at the sight of a big crowd, pressing forward behind my loved ones and vying for attention. She described one man as very tall, wearing wire-rimmed glasses.
“He says he was your social studies teacher in junior high,” she told me.
Troyt York, whom I hadn’t seen since age thirteen, fit the description. After my phone number happened to come into his hands, he surprised me once with a long-distance call. He’d opened with “So, what have you been doing for the last forty years?” Some years after our chat, I heard that he’d died. Now here he was, surprising me again and exclaiming, “I made it!”
Since I’d also known only briefly other individuals Liv pointed out, I finally asked, “What’s the reason for these random characters appearing now?”
Liv listened, then answered sheepishly. “Spirit says, they’d hardly call them ‘characters’! And, there’s nothing ‘random’ about this. For one thing, they want loved ones to know they’re okay.”
“We’re more than okay!” a teen in the crowd retorted.
“They’re on a mission, Spirit’s saying, to lessen fears on earth—fear of loss, fear of pain, fear of the future. Because it gets in the way of living fully,” she went on. “They want to correct beliefs about death. Make known their —and our—enduring existence.”
Their message felt like a mandate—to repeat it, at very least. I leave it to readers to discern if the shout-out is meant for them and, if so, what, if anything, to do about it.
Photo of Tyler Henry and Boy George: HOLLYWOOD MEDIUM — Pictured: (l-r) — (Photo by: Dale Berman/E! Entertainment)