Spirit Untethered

Six months before I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I started to see dead people, or Spirit. As of this writing, four years have passed. As Campbell writes above, we have to give up one life to receive another. And this is true: through forcing me to give up so much, all of the world conspired to convert me, an average housewife and mother, to a psychic-medium. They converted me so that I could write these words—their message to you. We never die. We merely depart our physical body. Invisible forces that anchored us to the body release, and the intact Spirit finds a home on a new plane, just a hairs-breadth away from this one. In stubborn ignorance, I fought my own psychic and mediumistic gifts for two reasons. First, I didn’t believe I actually had this gift, and second, I was afraid. I was afraid of being labeled as a charlatan, or worse, being accused of doing something that was not of God. Eventually, I yielded. Eventually, I learned. As of this writing, my learning process continues. I know that I shall always be a disciple of life. In the meantime, I’m still working to keep my own body going. One of the biggest motivations for being here is this: I fight to stay alive so that I can not only tell you we never die, but demonstrate it through evidential mediumship. But no one arrives to their sacred destination unscathed. Most of us arrive war-weary and battle-scarred. For some, physical survival itself feels like a miraculous accomplishment, let alone arriving with newfound spiritual enlightenment. It wasn’t just the cancer itself that made space for this opening; I also had to face my own grief to develop the gift that allows me to share this story. Before I could embrace my psychic and mediumistic gifts, my life blew up in a series of six metaphorical bombs, designed to provide me with a divine, custom-created course correction. It worked. Under siege, agonizing events held me captive. My soul stretched to her furthest limits. If a Soul could have physical stretch marks, mine would run jagged and red across my being: proof of how I’ve had to stretch and grow to survive. But this was all part of my spiritual education. Eventually, these painful lessons pointed the way across the veil—the place where Spirit dwells. January came to begin a new year: 2014. Emotionally, I felt sad regarding my mother’s death, while physically, I felt great. But when I went in for a routine scan with my oncologist, the MRI revealed metastatic cancer. M-E-T-A-S-T-A-T-I-C. Everywhere. It seems that this third time around, cancer is refusing to yield. As of this writing, I’m still in the storm. While cancerous tumors on my lungs, liver, bladder, and esophagus are currently stable, the tumor on the cardiac aortic node is naughty. It grew fifty percent in just four months. Recently, another tumor was identified on the tail of the pancreas. The hourglass of my life is running out. Slow but steady, drizzling sand passes through the portal and settles on the bottom. That visual compels me to write this story. The Spirit world is counting on me to complete my work. A set of six bombs nearly blew up my sanity. They became my teachers, opening me to a compassion that flows on both sides of the veil. How can we hate the teacher because the lesson is hard? The culmination of these events led me to The Call—my sacred purpose. I never made contact with my brother Rob. Similarly, I have not spoken to Nicole, Nelly, Andy, Graham or Douglas—nor have I contacted my mother in the two years since she left. But these experiences opened me to the search. They gave me infinite compassion for others as they grieve, and this compassion is part of my drive to deliver the messages from the Spirits I am able to contact. The story of how I learned to make this contact, and many other stories of these contact events, is told throughout the following pages. Death brought me life. And life brought me the ability to see dead people, or Spirits. Ironically, I don’t see my own loved ones. I see yours. The following chapters are dedicated to all who have suffered agony and grief from the loss of your beloved. This message is for you.