After the heartbreaking loss of my son, I stumbled upon an advertisement in a local newspaper promoting a “spiritual gallery” featuring a psychic medium who claimed to connect attendees with their departed loved ones. Intrigued, I made a reservation under an abbreviated version of my name and paid cash upon arrival, ensuring there was no background information on me.
The medium, a petite woman named Sarah, possessed long hair and a gentle demeanor. A former military service member, Sarah appeared nervous, confessing it was her first time hosting such an event. She frequently sipped from a large soda, which became a sort of rhythm throughout the session.
Having experienced readings from various psychic mediums before and after this encounter, I had my fair share of high-profile psychics, some with television fame. I even paid a significant amount for one reading that I’d rather not disclose. Typically, these sessions begin with vague statements, often fishing for information. I remained skeptical, waiting for something so uniquely personal that it could only be known through my son.
As Sarah began, she offered a prayer with her rosary. Initially, her insights seemed generic, but soon became more profound. She mentioned that my mother was present alongside a young male relative, who was joyfully running around. This detail struck me as my son had lost his mobility before he passed away at ten due to a brain tumor. Sarah conveyed that he wanted me to pass his toys to his younger brother, a surprising revelation since I hadn’t mentioned having a son. She even noted that there wasn’t a little sister at home yet (which was true!).
While I felt moved, I remained unconvinced and continued to wait for that undeniable moment—then it came. After a long sip of her drink, Sarah asked if I ever cracked my son’s toes. Instant tears welled in my eyes. Who else would know about this quirky, private habit we shared? When I inquired how she knew, she said, “He cracked my toe.” A woman in the front row confirmed she heard it crack during the reading.
Sarah concluded the session by reassuring us that our loved ones are always near and constantly sending us signs. They are watching over us from their version of heaven, wishing us happiness.
A renowned psychic with a television presence once told me that individuals typically experience one mind-blowing reading and then move forward. However, my experience was different. I longed for Sarah to serve as a connection to my son. I returned to her galleries every few months over the next three years, often encountering familiar faces. I sought confirmation that my son was with us during family events and wanted to feel whole again. I craved more obvious signs, but as I continued to visit Sarah, her messages seemed to diminish.
I eventually recognized that my expectations were unfair. Sarah wasn’t merely a phone line to my son; her role was to communicate that love transcends even death, a lesson I now embrace. Several years later, the arrival of my daughter (just as Sarah had predicted!) helped lift my grief, but it all began with the solace I found during my sessions with her.
While I understand that this might not be the right path for everyone and shouldn’t replace the difficult work of grieving, my experience provided me with a sense of connection to my son and reassured me that he was at peace—wherever he may be.
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Summary:
This article recounts a mother’s journey through grief after losing her son, highlighting her transformative experience with a psychic medium. The medium provided personal insights that comforted her, helping her feel connected to her son. Despite her initial skepticism, the profound nature of the readings led her to seek ongoing sessions, ultimately guiding her toward healing.
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