There are those haunting stories, excuse the pun of course.
The one’s that stay with me, the heart wrenching one’s, are usually about children. They hit me, they open my heart up and add fragments of glass.
Seeing parents whom have lost their own, seems unnatural. The loss of a child is something no parent should live with.
It brings back memories of my own family, when at a young age, I watched helplessly as I saw my own parents suffer the loss of my brother. One decision, one twist of fate, and that was all it took to change every life involved. You can’t forget that kind of trauma.
The stages of grief, written by Elizabeth Kubler Ross, never stop. Guilt being the primary one for those of us left behind.
The session I’m currently recalling, really drove this point of guilt home. A very pleasant woman and daughter, come to the door somewhat quiet in their greeting, state they had been to a few mediums in the past, and had such hopeful looks on their faces.
As I spiritually jump ship, raising up my vibe to that place, I sense a young boy. His attire reminiscent of my own 1970’s childhood. He tells the story, “Always late running to catch the school bus, it was fast! I’m okay mommy, really, I’m just fine!”
That’s too little, I stay quiet, eyes closed hearing, just hearing.
I stop to let the clients understand, I stop to hear them. I can’t hear and talk at the same time, just a minute, please. I begin to feel the apprehension of the ladies telling myself, “ignore it Katie, he has a story to share.” Ugh nerves.
Focus….focus… “hey lady! did you tell her?”
“what?” They don’t repeat, ever for me.
I describe who I’m seeing. “A 1970’s red parka-like hooded coat, snow, winter. running out of your home.”
“He says it’s fast, no pain–
–and it’s not your fault.” The woman looks at me and replies, shaking her head no. “yes, it was absolutely my fault, he couldn’t see.”
“please please tell me, give me a reason it’s not her fault please.”
He explains, “no, you could never keep that hood up, don’t care how hard you try to, you know I always hated ANYTHING on my neck; I undid it as fast as you buttoned me up, zipped me up, doesn’t matter, when i ran my hood fell back, I could see just fine, mamma!”
I reply to his mom,”Do you remember that he wouldn’t wear turtlenecks? He didn’t want hats or hoods up on jackets either. It was the driver of the car, it was his fault, it was winter, he was drinking. Please this wasn’t you.”
The look of relief, the guilt carried on a heart not for a few years but for decades.
This loving woman had forgiven all involved. The driver of the car, all except herself.
My daily mantra: More faith than fear. I have to believe that even in these so very sad situations, there is a reason. A Spiritual lesson that allows us all to grow.
What was the lesson in this loss? In all those children that we, as humans, see as having gone too early?