A Reading: A Daughter Seeks Validation From Her Mother in Spirit

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At the beginning of every session, I always asked clients not to give me any information during the reading, other than to answer my questions with, “Yes,” “No,” or “I don’t know,” and if I asked a question that required anything more, I wanted only the briefest answer possible.

Not only did this help me offer a clean reading, it removed any speculation that I was merely feeding back what I’d already been told, or that I was making educated guesses.

In other words, it removed the possibility that I am a fraud.

I knew nothing when the sessions started, other than who it was they hoped would come through or what they hoped to achieve from our time together.

In the interests of brevity, what is written below is a condensed version of the reading.

The woman, “RT” across from me is 60-ish. Large blue eyes, dark hair with grey strands slowly taking over. She is slightly heavy-set and has a wide, warm smile. 

“Who is it that you’d like to connect with today?”

“My mum.”

I take a few moments to tune in and ask her mother to come forward. In seconds, I sense a spirit.

“I feel a motherly presence, warm and kind but this is not a strong energy. She would have been a soft-spoken woman. Never an unkind word for anyone, smiles a lot. Does whatever she can for anyone who needs her for something.”

“Yes.” She smiles softly.

“She’s showing me the inside of a church. Feels like this is terribly important to her, like religion is at the centre of her life. Family and church; these matter most. Would you understand this?”

“Yes. Yes, for sure.”

“I have a sense of her having an accent but I can’t hear words clearly so I don’t know what it is. But she’s giving me a sense of her having had an accent. She wasn’t born in this country.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, she was?”

“No, I mean, yes, that’s correct. No, she was not born in this country.”

“Okay!” We chuckle at the mild confusion. “She is a traditional woman with traditional values. She’s proud of this. She says her mother taught her well. Does this make sense to you?”

“Yes!” 

“Thank you. Okay, I’m pretty certain this is your mother but you would know better than I.”

“Yes, that sounds just like her.” Her eyes are damp. 

“All right, thank you.” I tune in to see what her mother, “JT,” might like to say. “First thing she’s telling me is she wants to thank you.” Silently, I ask JT for more information about that. “You had to make a hard decision right at the end. You’ve been questioning it; would you understand this?”

“Yes.” She looks distraught.

“She’s saying you did the right thing. It was what she wanted. She knew how hard it was for you; she could hear you, even though she wasn’t conscious. Her spirit was aware of the struggle you were having. There’s you, a doctor, and another person in the room. It looks like a hospital room or a similar setting. Does this make sense to you?”

“It does.”

“Thank you.” I listen to JT; she has a lot to say. “This decision is final. Like, you’re letting her go but you’re not ready. You don’t want to do it.”

“Yes.” Her voice breaks as tears flow.

“But you did it. You agree. She wants you to know, this wasn’t about you. It was about her and she was ready. You knew it was time, but you didn’t want to accept it because you weren’t ready. She’s telling me she could hear the conversation with the doctor, and even though she couldn’t speak, she was pleading with you to please let her go. Did you agree to turn off a machine or in some way give permission for them to stop treatment like maybe a feeding tube or life support or something like this?”

“Yes.” Barely a whisper. More tears.

“She wants to thank you and she wants to apologise. She’s thanking you for having made that brave decision and she’s apologising that you got stuck having to make it. She’d have given anything if she could have taken that from you and she’s sorry.”

“She doesn’t need to be.”

“But she is, and she wants you to know this. She’s so grateful to you for having put aside your own feelings and considering how she was feeling and what the doctors were putting her through. Or more like, what she was going through because of her illness and the doctors were prolonging it. She just wanted to go.”

“Yeah, I thought so. We didn’t talk about that sort of thing much but from our vague conversations about such matters over the years, I always had a sense that she wouldn’t want to be left to suffer endlessly.”

“You’re absolutely right. She wants you to know she’s smiling. She’s truly at peace. Her body is no longer frail and sick. She is free now, happy, and she’s so glad you let her leave this life when it was no longer worth living.”

“Oh, thank you! That makes it all worth it!” she smiles, her relief evident even through tears. 

“She’s saying something about not sleeping. Hang on…” I listen. “Oh. You haven’t been sleeping well for some time? Quite a long time?”

“True.”

“She’s showing me an office. And now another office. There’s a feeling of moving. Did you move offices? Or change your job since she passed? Feels like it’s in the same company but there’s movement.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“Okay. Thank you. I feel rushed and stressed. My chest is tight. I’m anxious. Is it work stress that’s keeping you up? Caused by this move at work?” 

“Yes.”

“Like … a promotion, or perhaps even a lateral move but it has more responsibility. It feels weightier, heavier.”

“Yeah. That fits.”

“Okay. Thank you. She’s concerned you’re not taking care of yourself. You’re not enjoying this job anymore. It’s not good for you.”

“Yeah. Well, tell that to the bills that need paying.”

“I know. Spirits don’t always seem to respect that! But I have to pass on what they say.” 

Silently, I ask JT to tell me more. I ask what is important to pass along to RT about this or any other situation. “She always encouraged you to follow your heart. She’s showing me paintings and art and making me feel like you have a creative streak. It’s not your mother who’s making things or painting. It’s you.”

“Yes. She didn’t have a — ”

“Please don’t tell me anything.”

“Okay. Sorry. Habit. I like explaining.”

I smile. “Oh, I so get that! Me, too. She’s making me feel like this job isn’t good for you. She wants you to be more creative. I’m not sure if she’s trying to tell me you should get a creative job or if you should just spend more time with your creativity, but there’s something in here about being aware of your work stress and she wants you to spend more time doing the artistic things you love. Does this make sense to you?”

“Oh, completely! Can I say why?”

“Sure.” 

“She always encouraged me with my art. She wanted me to go to art school but I was too afraid I couldn’t make a living with it. I went to business school instead.” She laughed. “Usually, it’s the parents telling the kid to be responsible and not to go art school but not her. She believed in me, even though I didn’t believe in myself.”

“She still does. And she’s urging you to do something about it. She’s showing me an image of you selling paintings. You’ve already done this, yes? You’ve sold paintings at times?”

“Yes.”

“She’s giving me a ‘rolling her eyes at you’ feeling. Like, see? Why don’t you trust yourself? Do more of that! She is adamant that you’ve got to find a way to follow your dream of supporting yourself with your art. If you do it on the side and build it up, in time you could quit your job. That’s me saying that part, not her, but it’s kind of where she’s going with this.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“She says you’d be so much happier and she doesn’t understand why you won’t give yourself that chance before it’s too late. It’s what she wants for you, more than anything.”

She’s quiet. Taking it all in. Creased eyebrows. And then, a smile slowly spreads across her face. “Okay, Mum. I hear you. I’ll do it. Or at least, I’ll do my best to figure it out.”

“She’s beaming. She’s happy for you. She says she waited a long time for this. No more excuses. Her words, not mine.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, that’s her. She never liked it when people made excuses. Okay. Got it. Thanks, Mum.”

“She wants me to hug you for her. Would that be okay?”

“It really would!” 

We stand and hug. JT is smiling.

***

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