I will tell you and show you in as many ways as I need to that you are not alone…
Scott, March 1996, Channeled Writing
I was about to enter a whole new world.
The week following my conversation with Daviea about her session with Dee, I took the plunge and set up a telephone appointment with her. Dee is in Pittsburgh and I Miami, but I quickly learned that the geographic distance between us makes no difference. (The electricity linking our homes and the telephone contact, she later explained, was sufficient to empower her vision.) Before the session, I mailed to her a photograph of Scott and me, hoping the image would somehow make it easier for her to make contact and to bring him through. This being my first appointment, I did not yet realize that Dee can see and hear angels like you and I billboards and radio.
Nor did I know anything about her history, because it is her nature to first focus on the pressing needs and well-being of others. Since earliest childhood and throughout her youth, Dee was gifted with a sense of intuition and clairvoyance, and in her teenage years experienced a life transforming vision of Mary, the mother of Jesus. She subsequently served for nineteen years as a nun in the Divine Providence Order of the Roman Catholic Church, titled Sister Mary Samuel, and finally chose to leave the sisterhood to pursue a career as a registered nurse and to have a family. She is now a grandmother.
A few years later, her life was again dramatically changed by a near-death experience in which she was clinically dead for nineteen minutes. She vividly recalls being received by the angels, and being gently sent back from the glorious realm despite her terrible reluctance because “it was not her time.” Since that experience, especially, her ability to communicate clearly with the other side through words, images, and feelings has been a fact of her life. She lives among us, but is for some reason gifted with a special vision. A devout Christian, she disdains the term “psychic” and is more comfortable with “mystic,” as she is recognized by her fellow congregants. As she sings in the church choir on Sundays, she sees the angels floating gently above the congregation, drawn by the music. She marvels at the thoughts of prayer she sees soaring heaven bound, blue dots of energy ascending.
Unfortunately now somewhat disabled as a result of serious hip problems due to aging, Dee’s defining characteristic is kindness. Her insight is highly respected by detectives, and she is often called upon as a measure of last resort by law enforcement officials on the trail of violent criminals. Rich in gifts of the spirit, she is hardly interested in money in any case, but never charges for her services in such police matters. “When people are asking ‘Where’s my child?,’”she says, “that’s a cry for help. So I help them.”
That evening at the end of March, though, I didn’t yet know any of this about her. I only listened to her gentle, high-pitched voice on the other end of the phone, filled equally with dread and delight. I was about to receive, in my mind, absolute confirmation that Scott’s essence had not died along with his body. She only reports what she sees, often not fully understanding it herself, and must at times rely on the client to help interpret the words, sounds, and images shown to her. Though her vision is sure, events in the past, present and future are often blended together without ready labels. Some of the events of which she spoke occurred only later, unfolding according to an order reflecting a spiritual purpose of its own.
During the course of our hour-long telephone conversation I was given a rich supply of information, far too much to absorb in one sitting. And my life was forever changed. As she spoke, Dee followed the spirit where it led her. “I see a lot of strain in the relationship,” she began. “Does that make sense to you?” “I’m not sure,” I answered, not knowing what to think. What was she talking about? “It’s probably because I’ve been trying so hard to reach him,” I guessed, sighing. “You know, that’s what I think you’re doing,” she responded, “that was you in your separation trying to reach him, you understand? And I hate to tell you this but I think you are going to meet somebody else.” Only weeks after Scott’s death, his love and loss my obsession, her words took me by surprise. “I really believe that he is in some way reaching you for this purpose,” she went on. “He’s the one that’s putting someone with you, so that you can go on. He’d be quite happy about it. You’ll never forget him. You’ll always hold him in your heart, but the love that you have to share he would like you to give to another, he really would. This is what he’s feeling. ‘Go on and then, when you meet, you’re not going to lose a thing, you’re not going to lose an ounce of that love.’”
“He’s very close to you,” she continued. “He is very close to you, but at the same time I think he’s telling you, you know, to just move on.” “Where is he?” I asked, burning with curiosity. “He’s in heaven,” she replied, “very much so. I see him with two friends that received him on the other side. They both passed over with AIDS, one of them about a year ago.” She spoke on, proceeding to answer my deepest unspoken question: was it right for me to keep on living when Scott had died? “He knows that you miss him terribly. He knows this. He knows that you have to go on and he knows, he knows above all, that he still loves you and that you love him.”
“But you’re living now, and he’s telling you that he wants you not to waste your life. Don’t do that. He’s telling you not to waste your life and that you’re not to go prematurely. If you do, here’s what he’s saying to you. You’re not going under normal circumstances, so you’d have to come back right away and be without him. See, this is what he doesn’t want. He knows that you want to be there with him, but you would be going prematurely and you’d have to come back to finish out your life, so don’t think of doing anything foolish. He went by way of illness, and you cannot destroy your body. If you do this, you won’t be together.”
Somehow recognizing the truth of her words even as she spoke, I felt a subtle but definitive shift deep within me. Even in my devastation I had never seriously contemplated taking my own life, but had nevertheless grappled with the fundamental question of whether I’d been meant to go with him. My heart left me no doubt that we were meant to be together, and in the wake of his passing my continued survival seemed a cruel and terrible mistake. Why was I still here, and where was now my home? Why had I not gone with him? Perhaps most importantly, what was I supposed to do about it? Much too large and intimidating to confront directly as I battled grief and fought for my day-to-day survival, these questions loomed unanswered in the shadows just below my conscious mind, silently coloring my perception.
In the days since Scott’s passing I had longed for death, or rather to stop the pain, but it hadn’t happened. I was here still, and perhaps there was a good reason for that after all. Through her simple words Dee had coached me to look the unthinkable directly in the face, urging me to pay attention to and see through its dark and restless murmurings. “You really have only one choice,” I interpreted her words to say, “and that’s to embrace the path on which you find yourself. It’s really much simpler than it seems.” Her insight had helped lift me to a new and different perspective, at once gloriously confirming my heart’s wisdom that Scott and I were still together after all and forever laying to rest any doubt that I was to keep on living. “I guess I am supposed to stick around,” I allowed myself to realize. “Maybe I am where I’m meant to be after all.”
“He Wants You to Listen to the Words”
Suddenly Dee went on another tangent. “Did he play guitar? Did he play an instrument? Why am I hearing music?” Nothing immediately came to mind. “I don’t know,” I responded. “No, I don’t think he played any instruments,” pausing to think, “but he used to be a disc jockey at a country music station when he was working his way through college.” “Oh, that’s why I hear the music!,” Dee exclaimed. “I hear the music and he’s trying to get you to listen. Do you listen to that music? Cause I have a feeling that he’s trying to push you towards something, he’s saying ‘listen to me, listen to me’. I think he’s trying to get you to listen to some of the words.”
“I think he’s trying to reach you to tell you not to be filled with such anxiety. He is at peace, and you’re the one that’s filled with all the anxiety, and my feelings are that he wants you to move on…It just happened. He was ready; he certainly wasn’t frightened. If anything, he was ready to go.” I felt the truth of her words, recalling how very tired he had been and how peaceful he had sounded just before finally letting go.
Despite my guess about the radio station Dee kept hearing the music and returning to that theme, suggesting that we had not yet successfully gotten the message. “Are you sure that there’s not an instrument laying around that he had, something he had used? I don’t know, he’s trying to get through to me with something.” I was mystified. “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Dee said, falling into silence. “It’s something that sounds kind of airy. He didn’t play an instrument, you said? Hmm.” So we moved on. “Oh,” she sighed, “he’s holding out a candle to you. Did you keep candles lit after he died? Is there a big fat white one?” “Yes there is,” I replied, recalling the candle of that description we’d had burning by Scott’s portrait during the memorial gathering at our home, surrounded by an abundance of exquisite flowers. I’d brought the candle and the picture upstairs afterward, where they now sat next to the computer at which I did my writing. “He’s standing right near,” she said. “You must be right near his picture. He’s standing right beside you, and he’s real happy.”
“Yeah, he’s right there,” she continued. “When you keep that candle lit, he’s right there. So you can talk to him; I think it’s just a matter of tuning yourself in on that level or vibration. If you could learn to meditate…it’s easy to do. It’s very easy to do because you’re so open to one another. You just have to pick up on his vibrations. See, he’s on a higher plane now. But he’s right there, closer than you think. Closer than you’ll ever know!”
To Chapter 12
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