9. The Psychic

Six months after Tom died I visited a psychic. My sole purpose was to gain some reassurance that he was ok—somewhere in the universe. Two friends had recommended a local woman who was apparently very popular as I called in March and couldn’t get in until August. I had no idea what to expect, but flowing robes and a turban crossed my mind. I also left the house panicked because I had forgotten to bring anything of Tom’s, a piece of clothing or something she might “read” to get his scent or some sense of him—as if she were a basset hound on a police dept. missing person squad!

I arrived at a very nice building in a very nice suburb and entered an office that looked like any other therapist’s—chairs, couch, neutral tones. The psychic is, in fact, a trained therapist who had seen angels from the time she was a little girl but did nothing with her gift until she started her therapy practice and kept hearing from patient’s dead relatives—unbidden—and realized she might need to embrace her true calling.

I told her only my name, my birthdate and that my husband had died. As my normally very skeptical daughter said later—“Mom, even if she googled you and did 6 months of non-stop research she could not have known this stuff.” True enough.

I wanted to hear from my husband, but he was a mild-mannered, modest man and I come from a family of bossy loud-mouths ALL of whom had things to say to me.  After hearing from my dad (who wanted to go first—of course!), my mom, my brother and my maternal grandmother (a mean, self-pitying battleax who has now proven without question that ANYBODY can get into heaven) my sweet husband finally stepped up to the plate, apologizing that he was “new at this” and yet offering up every loving word and sentiment I could ever have hoped for in heaven or earth. He spoke of his love for me, for my daughters, for our life together, his extreme reluctance to leave me, his sorrow that we would not grow old together, his deep regret at not seeking treatment 3 years ago when it might have helped, his admonishment not to ignore signs of health troubles –to check out any problems right away. He wanted the psychic to “fawn” over me so that I would believe how beautiful he thought I was and know that there was absolutely NOTHING about me that he didn’t love. He knew how important he was in my youngest daughter’s life and the last thing he said to me through the psychic was “Hug our girl.” I let her play the recording of the session and she wept, as did I.

I found all of this so remarkable, so magical, so comforting that I wanted to tell everyone. Still, I worried that people might think I had lost my marbles so I chose my audience carefully. I told only a few people, but even there found surprising reactions. My sister wept on the phone, my Bible belt friend asked if she needed to start worrying about my sanity, my minister’s wife was polite but said she would just stick with the Bible for her after-life assurances as she would find psychics too “distracting”. Others looked for holes in the story and proof that I had been tricked.

I may or may not go back, but I know that I believe every word the psychic spoke was true. Even the earthly personalities of my loved ones came across in her remarks and none of that could be sourced on google.  Her fee was high for an hour but I was happy to pay it. In fact, I thought it was a miracle that she didn’t charge MORE as who would not pay their entire fortune to hear from the departed love of their life? I figured out later that her fee was actually equal to the hourly rate of the CHEAPEST divorce lawyer I ever had. Not hard to figure out which was more valuable.

Above all else I came away comforted—that there is a heaven, that my sweet husband had made it there, that he had met my dad, that he would very likely be waiting there for me when my time came to go. And that the crystal clear vision I had one day in meditation class of our two souls dancing through eternity might very well come to pass. I know I have a lot of living yet to do, but I must admit that in some ways I really can’t wait.

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