Talking to People on the Other Side

In December 1984 my father-in-law had been diagnosed with lymphocytic leukemia. His doctor gave him from 2 months to 2 years to live. By the end of February, I was beginning to feel the strain of not knowing what was going to happen. I would have to start pacing myself as to how much emotional support I was giving my husband, or I would be of no use to anyone. How could I find out how long his father was going to live, I wondered?

A couple of weeks later I walked into our apartment from doing errands and before I had taken my coat off, I felt this urge to turn on the television and watch "People Are Talking." This was a syndicated show in many big cities, but locally produced, to highlight local interests. In my head I thought it was silly to do this because there was only 10 minutes remaining in the show.

An attractive woman in her early 30's was sitting on the couch holding a ring in her left palm. Unbeknownst to her, the ring belonged to one of the staff from the show. She said a couple of things about the owner that made the host's eyes widen. "Yes,” he said, "That is correct." Again, she told something about the owner. Again, the host's eyes widened. This woman was a psychic. I had heard of psychics, but had never met one.
When they broke for commercial, a phone number flashed across the screen. I rushed to the phone without hesitation, called the number, and before the show returned, I had an appointment to see her in two weeks.
As I pulled up to a large Victorian home in Jamaica Plain, I knew I was doing the right thing. The place was the home and office to Steve, the man who ran the Center. He welcomed me and led me into the front parlor and asked me to wait.

Rushing into the room and seating herself in the chair opposite me, Julianna apologized for being late; she had just come from visiting her mother in the hospital. "Give me a minute to clear," she said. After a moment of silence she said, "There is someone close to you that is very sick. He is male and …." My mind was reeling. How did she know?

"That's why I am here," I replied.

We talked for a few minutes and then I asked her when he would die. There was a long pause. "He will not live past June 1st of this year," she stated flatly. Later, when I became friends with Julianna, she shared with me that she had never been given permission from her guides to share the time a person would pass. It was not done. But, her guides were insistent that I have the information, so she told me. I was grateful. I could give my husband the support he needed.

It was a Friday night, at the end of April. My husband's office was throwing an Open House for the new addition. Someone said the babysitter was on the phone. She had just received a call from my husband's brother saying that Dick Senior had taken a turn for the worse and that we needed to fly down as soon as possible. We left the next morning.

Lying motionless on the bed in the ICU, he did not look like the man I knew and loved. One by one all of the 6 siblings arrived. The last to get there was Annie, Billy's wife, on Monday morning. The rest of us waited in the waiting room while she sat with him. I remember that room vividly. The windows were floor to ceiling, narrow, rectangular windows that looked out over the hospital grounds. We had all been given time alone with Dick Senior. I had thanked him for all the love he had given me. He might have been cantankerous on the outside, but I knew that, in his own way, he cared deeply.

OnTuesday night around 11:30 the door to Dick Senior and Mary's condo opened and in they all shuffled. Julie, one of the 3 sisters, and I had stayed behind to take care of our young children, awaiting the latest news. There were still two more to come in, when the phone rang. "He is not going to last the night," repeated the person who answered the phone. They all did an about face. I would stay with our daughter, then 18 mos., and Julie’s 11 month old who were both sound asleep.

Silence. I was alone. The stillness of the condo was peaceful. I was standing on the far side of the dining room table doing something, when I felt as though someone was coming in through the front door. I turned and "saw" Dick Senior. I did not see him as I would see you, but I saw/felt him.
"What are you doing here?" I heard my mind ask.

"I want to make sure that Mary can find all the papers," he replied.

"Oh," I replied.

I felt him brush past me. He was looking in the silver casserole dish on top of the side board even though nothing moved.

"Go ahead and do whatever you need to do," I said. "I'm going into the front bedroom and close the door." "Do anything you want, just DON'T SHOW YOURSELF TO ME!"

Heather was sound asleep in her travel bed. I looked at my watch. 12:30, May 1st. A couple of hours later my husband crawled into bed and said, "He's gone."

The next morning the clock on top of the television console was working. Mary reported that it had not been working since before Dick Senior went into the hospital. Also, the ice maker that had quit working the week before was now working. Dick Senior did love to fix things. Interesting.

Since that night Dick Senior has "dropped by" several times. I have talked to many others and helped several cross over, but it was Dick Senior who opened the door, and I am grateful.