I was having coffee with my boyfriend at Starbucks one morning in Central Sq. in Cambridge, MA a bit over a year ago and I was feeling emotionally drained. I sat down to join him for coffee and I just started to cry. He looked at me inquisitively. “These dead people are killing me,” I sobbed as I fell into his arms. The day before I had three readings that were really intense and very sad. Two of the people had shot themselves in the head. In the third – the last reading of the day – a woman’s son was crushed by a mobile home that had fallen off its cement cinder blocks while he was repairing it. He died a slow, suffocating death.
It seemed as though that day of readings in particular was emotionally challenging in ways I didn’t appreciate until I sat down to have coffee the next morning. In my work I deal with death on a level that is unbelievably remarkable, and unbelievably sad. I hear the stories of how people die and I often see a picture of what took place at the time of death. Where the person was. Were they alone?
These details, although difficult at times, are the evidence that this person who has died is communicating with you. The person who has died wants to make sure you know that they are OK and that is why they want to deliver messages with such great detail. For the living, it’s often the uncertainty around someone’s death that can be the most vexing. The understanding that a detailed reading can bring offers some comfort, peace, and closure.