When did I know I was a medium and could speak and see dead people?
This is the most common question I am asked. It’s easy-peasy to answer.
I was born a medium and raised by parents that owned a funeral home, so it was kinda hard to ignore. The family funeral home was also three doors down from our house on First Avenue so Mom sent us there five days a week to eat our lunches. She was no lazy woman, this wasn’t a way of getting out of it. With nine children, her aging mother and a second elderly woman (she had no family to care for her here), Mom was responsible for many lives so our eating one meal with Dad each day was a necessity to her. During lunchtimes police officers and coroner’s were a common lunch-mate for us as our lunchroom was across from the morgue/embalming room. We moved around fixing our lunches as kids and eating with our Dad and these men listening to causes of death, primary and secondary. I listened to what happened to cause life to expire daily, and by the time I was twelve I was working weekends cleaning, answering the phone, setting up flowers and greeting families for wakes. I loved and was totally fascinated with the obituary forms hanging on a clipboard in the back office. “Cause of Death” was where my eyes rushed to read each time. Why people died fascinated me and here’s why.
Because sometimes the dead person would tell me the doctor or police got it all wrong.
And I never said a word.
I mean, after all, I was a kid, and then a teenager and then a young adult. No one was listening to me when the professionals were declaring the cause of death for the family and insurance companies. And that was probably a good thing too. But nowadays I am listened to. And that is probably a good thing too. Times have changed and people need to know the truth because it heals us.
But back to my story….
We played in the funeral home on the weekends all of the time as a child. My favourite game was hide and seek. I loved to hide more than seek. Because I could see dead people walking around all of the time, I hid in the caskets sometimes. It allowed me some silence and a place to get away from them. Yes, I said silence. The dead people (spirits) talked to me and to each other. I heard conversations all of the time, not just in the funeral home, but at home too. It was just more obvious and constant in the funeral home because well, they were always there, without fail, every single day, all day. I was fully immersed in it from the moment I was born. Seeing spirits, hearing them and talking to them was just a norm for me. So playing hide and seek with my many siblings included hiding and seeking the spirits for me. I can recall days where this was fun and easy and just plain enjoyable. I think now how important this time was for me because they engaged with me as a child on such an authentic level. I wasn’t taking a course at a metaphysical school or sitting in a Reiki class trying to re-connect with the spirit world. This was simple and full of love. I didn’t have to work or try…it was natural.
And that is the point of my story. This is truly how my relationship with them still is to this day.
At the end of the day, after connecting and working with them all day (after all they are my co-workers), I put on some music and dance with them in my kitchen. I thank them daily for loving me so much and for helping me to give their messages to their families. I also thank them for the truth. The spirits have helped me to value the truth more than anything and have taught me so much about having the patience to know when someone is seeking it or just testing me to see if this connection to them is real or not. I have come to value this process too.
Back to the caskets.
So I had an MRI many years ago when I experienced a severe nerve problem in my inner ears making me severely dizzy. I was sent to Timmins for an MRI. My husband at the time, Steve, came to help me and to do the driving. We went into the room with the MRI machine and were told Steve could stay with me and touch my feet as I went into the machine. I had terrible anxiety about being in a small space. I was told I could speak while inside the MRI and that there was a speaker in it so I would be able to hear the technician talk to me. My anxiety increased as the machine moved me into its chamber so I closed my eyes thinking this would help. It did not.
Anxiety built inside my chest to the point where I thought I was having a heart attack. I thought it might be easier to die than to live through it. Then I heard a voice loud as a human’s tell me to just open my eyes and I did instantly. I told the technician “Well this is exactly the same as a casket. I love it!”
I immediately calmed right down and started to laugh, telling her and Steve stories about being inside caskets and how much I felt at home. I’m pretty sure I continued on about how the dead people chased me into the caskets while we played and hide and seek.
Still no response.
I felt Steve squeeze my foot a tiny bit. What was happening? Where did the technician go? Hello?
The machine moved me slowly back out. I got up and Steve accompanied me out of the room. I got dressed and we left.
No technician in sight.
When we got to the car and sat inside Steve told me he thought perhaps my casket experience was a little uncomfortable for her and we had a laugh together.
I felt so at home in the MRI because it was just like being enclosed in a casket, my childhood safe place! Perhaps not a traditionally safe place for most people, but it was mine. It made me feel loved to remember it. It reminded me of the spirits who played with me and loved me, who spoke to me and were kind and loving.
I love this story and I hope you do too. I love it that you are getting to know me and my story and why I love dead people so very much and why I want to share them with all of you.
Thank you for reading my blog and giving me a space to share my experiences with them with you! I have tons and tons of stories about them so I could go on forever….