Talk to Me (17 page)

We toasted the occasion and I took a mental snapshot of the moment.

Almost three years to the day since she and I had shared that perfect Thanksgiving dinner together at my house, I looked out the car window daydreaming about my grandmother—and it hit me that I was driving back to Phoenix for her funeral.

My mother was devastated about losing her mum. It doesn't matter how many years you have the luxury of having a living parent, it's hard to let go. My grandmother was buried on her 94th birthday.

A couple of days after Grandma's funeral, Joe, the girls and I sat in a restaurant in Phoenix with my mum and my stepdad, Doc, and had Thanksgiving dinner. It was hard; I had never in my life spent Thanksgiving in a restaurant, menu in hand. There wasn't much to talk about. It was very sad. We did, however, toast Grandma's life, and we felt very blessed to all be together. I have no doubt in my soul that my grandmother was present for dinner that night, and she knows that the restaurant food wasn't even close to as good as what she would have made, because it wasn't made with love . . . her love.

6
The lighter side of
readings

R
eadings are great both to give and receive, and although they can be heavy sometimes, they are also amusing. Yes, I said ‘amusing'. I'm writing this chapter so that you can see the lighter side of a reading.

I was on the phone giving a reading to a very lovely woman who was asking me for messages and predictions for her children from the great beyond. I get this a lot, so I started writing the impressions that I was getting on her kids, and went down the lines one by one conveying the information to her. When I got to her daughter's information and began telling her what I saw, she laughed and said, ‘Oh, I already know
all
about the trouble she's got into, I mean everything.'

I was perplexed. ‘Excuse me?'

‘Allison, as soon as I told her that I was having a reading with you today, she panicked and confessed every bad thing she's ever done. She was so afraid of getting busted by you and of me getting mad.'

The woman and I laughed so hard that I had to collect myself for a moment before continuing the reading. I'm glad I could serve as a dose of truth serum between her and her daughter. Pretty funny!

LETTING GO

I've given many, many readings and I've heard just about everything one can imagine. One particular reading stopped me in my tracks and touched me very deeply. I was reading a woman named Katherine, and she wanted to make contact with her best friend, Becky, who had passed from cancer.

The reading went well and Katherine was very sweet. Then she shared with me that I had met Becky at one of my events at Tucson, Arizona, a couple of years prior to the reading. At my events the VIP ticket-holders are given a badge to wear around their neck. It looks kind of like a backstage pass at rock concerts. Katherine told me that when Becky's health declined and she was in a hospice, she held the badge with my image in her hand every day until she died.

Wow! That really rocked my foundation. I have never felt so humbled, as I was hearing that in some small way I could bring a dying person comfort. It also broke my heart that I couldn't do more for her.

Sometimes we lose sight of how our actions affect other people's lives for better or worse. So make that extra effort to breathe humour and positive energy into people's lives, even if you're just opening a door for an old lady. There are lonely people out there who need to be acknowledged, and why shouldn't they be? You never know when someone you pass on the street is living their last day, or when a friend you say goodbye to won't be back for another embrace.

I was at the grocery store recently when an older lady knocked a bunch of gift cards off a rack. She was struggling to kneel to pick up the cards. I was surprised at how many people just walked past her like she didn't exist. I went over and helped her pick them up, and her face lit up just knowing that someone cared. In turn, I felt really good because she radiated such lovely energy and had a beautiful warm smile. So there it is; we took an accident and turned it into a nice moment. Life gets busy and seems to give us tunnel vision, so it's up to us individually to remember to care.

LIVING WITHOUT REGRETS

Many people carry guilt about not spending enough time with their loved ones when they had a terminal illness. The living do the best they can, as they feel divided between their loved one's care and holding their household, their very life, together. Can you imagine the stress?

I did a reading for a lovely woman named Ame, and she was one of the caregivers whom I speak of who wished they could have done more. Below, she shares her account of the reading she had with me. She shares the depth of love that she has for her husband. Maybe some of you can relate to Ame. For those of you who haven't stood in her shoes, make sure you take nothing for granted, because life has a way of throwing a curve ball, and it's better to live it without regrets.

AME'S STORY

I knew immediately that Allison was able to bring Al through, because she was laughing. The reading was two days before my birthday, and Allison said he was down on one knee offering me flowers. She said that he was trying very hard to be romantic and, with a big chuckle, added that he was really bad at it. And he was, but that is what made life with him so interesting.

My husband died in 2007 from kidney cancer, eight months after diagnosis. He was 42 when he passed. The cancer was very aggressive, and nothing the doctors tried could slow it down, even a little. I was Al's primary caregiver, but I also had to work to support us. I felt guilty because I couldn't be with him every moment.

After his death, I just wanted to know that he was okay, and that somehow he was still with us. I would get some signals from him: lights going on and off, doors opening and closing, and the dogs would bark at seemingly nothing. I even thought I heard him talking a few times. But I wasn't certain if it was Al, or if I was just going crazy.

The opportunity came to have a reading with Allison. I knew Al would come through for her. He normally didn't believe in such things, but he had heard Allison on the radio one day and was completely amazed by her ability. The day of the reading I was so giddy; I felt like I was going on a date.

In the reading, the first thing Al said was that I was ‘Florence Nightingale', and that I had been his carer and had been so nurturing. He expressed his gratitude and needed me to know that he was no longer feeling any pain. Allison described his passing just as it happened. He just slipped away after sleeping for several days.

During the reading, Allison spoke of many aspects of our life together, and the details were amazing. She was so accurate, but that wasn't what captivated me. She brought him through . . . his personality, his sense of humour, his excitement for life. These weren't just details being revealed to me; it was my husband. This was really Al with us.

He advised me that I should take dancing lessons. It's something he wanted to do with me, but never got the chance. He said he really needed it. He laughed and told Allison that he had his own moves, but they weren't really what the ladies like. We were all laughing, and I could just picture the silly grin he gave Allison when he said it.

When the reading was over, Allison said that she was leaving Al with me.

That night, I was watching television. I felt a sensation on my leg as if someone was rubbing it. I knew it was Al.

Since the reading, I have felt lighter. The guilt I had has lifted. I gave him the best care that I could, and he appreciated it. Not surprisingly, Allison had said that he was in a good place energetically and had a very strong soul. He lived life with passion and cared deeply for those he loved. I'm not surprised that he would have the same energy in death. I am very grateful to Allison for the opportunity to speak with my husband. I still miss him, but I know that he's okay and that he's still with me.

IT'S ALL IN THE DETAILS

I toured Australia, a country that I love because the people are so centred and upbeat. As always, I had some interesting readings but sometimes it's the little details and lighter moments that have the most impact. Here are a few of those moments:

A lady who had recently lost her husband showed up, with their children. During the reading, the ‘man of the hour' said, ‘Tell my family my shoes aren't that great! They don't have to keep them.'

The wife gasped and the son looked at her in shock. They then told me that the son was wearing his dad's shoes especially for the event, in the hope he'd recognise the gesture. Well, he did!

I read some sisters who'd lost their mum and were struggling with the loss. The information was coming through easily, yet sombrely. Then the deceased said, ‘Tell my girls not to forget what I cooked for them, to show them I loved them. And they should make some of those same dishes for their kids. They always told me how good it was.'

The daughters started laughing like they had just heard the best comedy line ever. They explained, ‘We always told Mum how good her cooking was because we didn't want to hurt her feelings. She was a terrible cook. She burned most things she tried to make.'

I replied, ‘Well, she knows now!'

They chuckled again and left with smiles on their faces. What a satisfying moment.

LOSS OF A GOLDEN BOY

I wanted to share a reading with you that shows how our heartstrings keep us connected to our babies—those we love more than life itself. Debra and her son had one of these energetic bonds, and I first met them at one of my events.

Sean came through extremely effortlessly; even before the reading someone kept whispering ‘son' in my ear. At the time I didn't share that with his mum, Debra, but now she knows.

Sean told me he was ‘so impatient'. He was very ready to talk to his mum. And that's where I came in.

Sean's energy was comical and cool, yet loving. He had a really big heart—and still does. He came through as confident, yet concerned about his family.

At the start of our reading, Sean kept referencing ‘muscle cars' and f lashing the image of a red car through my head. It turns out that Sean was driving his red Camero when he was in the fatal car accident. It was a bittersweet moment as Debra told me he loved that car, but Sean wanted to reassure her that the car is fine and he still loved driving it on the other side.

Sean talked about his cell phone and how he tries to communicate through it. He still plays with it so his family knows he's there. Debra confirmed that Sean's brother has his cell phone, and has experienced some strange activity through it since Sean's passing.

Sean also repeatedly f lashed the number ‘17' through my head, and it was the only number he shared with me during his reading. When I told Debra, she revealed that Sean had died on 17 May.

This vibrant young man was an organ donor, and through his death he saved many lives—something to consider when you make a living will or get a driver's licence. I'm an organ donor. I know that when you die you become whole again in spirit, so there's nothing to miss.

During the reading, Sean shared many personal details about his life and his family, and it was mesmerising to see how he lifted his mother's spirit to a place it hadn't been in a very long time. I liked that Sean said, ‘Tell my mum I still leave the refrigerator door open while I figure out what I want to eat!'

Debra laughed and told me she wakes up some mornings and finds the fridge door open; now she knows why. I really like that we take our sense of humour with us.

Sean also showed me a photo in which he was clowning around, and making a funny face and ‘rabbit ears' behind a male's head. Debra knew exactly which photo this was; she said it was taken the week her eldest son graduated. And then there was the photo of him holding a baseball bat. Debra said that Sean later decided he hated baseball, and she thought he was trying to be funny by referring to the photo. Sean talked about having the best parents in the world, and loving his brothers. He spoke of specific family members who he's with on the other side, and of still being a member of his living family. He will continue forward with them throughout their lives, until they meet again.

I'm fond of Sean and Debra. They're good people, the kind of people our world needs more of. So, as you read this, send good thoughts to them both, and remember them. Debra's hoping that by letting us be a part of her journey maybe it will help another family who can relate, so they know that those we love never leave us.

DEBRA'S STORY

My 21-year-old son Sean lived with his grandmother in Dallas, Texas, and was doing very well. Sean was working for UPS part-time, and planned to go to school to become a manager for UPS.

On 17 May 2010, I received a call that no parent wants to receive—to hear that your child has been in a bad car accident, and it doesn't look good.

My sister Penny, who also lives in Dallas, kept telling me that Sean wasn't doing well, and she was going to the hospital to see what was going on. It was 1.30 in the morning Texas-time and 12.30 a.m. in Georgia, where I live.

It took me all day to get plane tickets so I could be by my son's side. Ryan, my oldest son, came with me, and we arrived in Texas around nine o'clock that night. It felt like it took an eternity to get there. My husband, Ron, and Casey, Sean's younger brother, would arrive the next day.

As I walked into the emergency room, I just couldn't believe that my son had been in a car accident, and that he might not make it through the night. Sean looked at peace. He appeared quite unharmed for someone who'd been in a car accident, he didn't have any major cuts, except on his chin—but his arm and his neck were broken. The nurse told me, ‘You can touch him.' And when I did, I knew he wasn't with me anymore. I didn't sense he was in his body.