An Extra Large Message from a Medium
We all, I think, wish it was easy to get messages from those we've lost. I wish my grandfather could pop in, say hello, have a beer with me, and tell me he's proud of me. I wish my grandmother could come play even just one hand of rummy and talk about her day. I wish Karen Carpenter could come sing "Goodbye to Love" and/or the entire Carpenters Christmas Portrait album with me, depending on how much time she had.
CDG went to at an event where there was a medium. She had an unexplainable experience and thought her mom would be interested, since she grew up in an environment that was very open to getting messages from life on the other side and she has several family members who died when she was younger, including her mother and a few of her siblings.
In November of 2014, she went to see the medium, who started the appointment by asking my MIL is she had lost her sister. My MIL told her that she had, indeed, lost her sister and she started to tell her about other losses she’s experienced. The medium stopped her and told my MIL to try to answer only yes or no, not to go into details. My MIL agreed.
The conversation continued. The next question the medium asked was...
Medium: Do you know Trisha?
Medium: Do you know Susan?
My MIL’s best friend’s name is Susan.
Medium: Was she a teacher?
My MIL’s best friend, Susan, was an art teacher.
At that point, the medium stood up and told my MIL that she had something for her. She left the room, and returned with an item. She placed it in my MIL’s hands and asked her if it meant anything to her. It didn’t. They agreed to continue the conversation to see if it would make sense later on.
They continued to talk and the medium gave my MIL several messages from her loved ones - things nobody would really know or be able to guess - and the hour and a half session neared its end.
Suddenly, the medium looked to her right and said, “What?... Oh. Ok.” She turned back to my MIL…
Medium: We have something wrong. We’ve confused something. Who’s Trisha?
MIL: That’s my daughter-in-law. My daughter’s wife.
Medium: Does *she* know Susan?
And then it clicked for my MIL. She realized that it was Auntie Sue, not her friend Sue, that the medium was talking about. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked down at the item in her hands. She knew it was significantly meaningful.
Medium: That item is for Trisha, from Susan. She wants you to tell Trisha that she knows she’s been struggling since her death, that she loves her, and that she’s with her.
At the cottage our family used to rent every summer, when she wasn’t sitting in her beach chair reading outdated People magazines, one of Auntie Sue’s favorite pastimes was walking the shore looking for perfect seashells. She’d walk the entire length of the beach and inspect every shell that showed promise to fit her criteria. If it passed initial inspection, she’d wash it off in the water. If it passed second inspection, she’d bring it back to the cottage, and leave it on the windowsill to dry. By the end of the week, there’d be a pile of seashells on the patio windowsill.
Flash back to my MIL, sitting with the medium, holding a handful of absolutely perfect seashells, contained into one giant shell.
My MIL had the presence of mind to ask the medium where the shells came from.
Medium: I have a friend who is a medium on Cape Cod. One day, she was outside and a man came up to her and asked her if she wanted them. He collected them that day. As a medium, you know that those things are a message. You might not know why just then and there, but you trust you’ll know at some point. A few weeks later, something told her that she had to get those shells to me. We met for lunch and she gave them to me. They’ve been sitting in my house since then. When we first started talking and I asked you about Trisha and Susan, something told me they were for you, so I went and got them.
I don’t know how mediums work and I may never. When I try to scientifically explain it, I fail. When I try to debunk it, the only conclusion I’ve come to is that my MIL made it all up, which I know she'd never do.
What I know is that her message came at a time when I needed it most. What I know is that I still know that I don’t know what I don’t know. But I’m keeping those seashells until I figure it out.
Or until something or someone sends me a message telling me where they should go next.