Talk to Me

by Allison DuBois

  Allison said that Kelly was showing her the month of July and that she was watching the fireworks with Anna. Anna’s birthday is on July 3. ‘Tell Anna that the fireworks are for her,’ Kelly said.

  Kelly then mentioned she had been with us on that day. We knew this was true because we had taken Anna horseriding on her birthday. When we got back into the car and started it up, Ron looked down at the radio song display and it just said ‘Kelly’. Her name just sat there on the display for a full minute; we knew that she was with us. Allison also said Kelly wanted to tell Anna that ‘she pinky-swears she will never leave her’. Anna makes me pinky-promise her about something every day!

  The last message Kelly had for Anna was: ‘Thank you for keeping me going and letting me see what life looked like when I was facing death.’ This statement was so very meaningful to me.

  Kelly had several tattoos, including a beautiful portrait of my grandmother on her left arm. When we started talking about the rest of the family, Kelly said that while some people were getting tattoos in her honour, she wanted to tell her brother Jim he didn’t have to get one. She said she knew that he loved her. Jim had planned to get a tattoo that matched the ‘K’ she had on her arm; Kevin had already got one like it, her brother Ronnie and her cousin Angie both had tattoos dedicated to her, and others were talking about it. After I told him Kelly’s message, Jim decided not to get the tattoo.

  During our reading, Kelly said she liked her cake. It was her birthday the month before, and we’d had a small gathering in her honour. Our family and a few of her close friends came over and we had Kelly’s favourite cake: red velvet. Jim lit a candle and put it in a piece of cake for her, which we placed next to her photo.

  Kelly wanted us to know that she saw the DVD which her brothers, Jim and Jeff, along with a good friend of hers, put together for her funeral service. They all spent many hours picking out the right songs. We now know that this meant a lot to her. Kelly was also showing

  Allison someone holding her hand before she died, and she said they didn’t want to let go. Jim had been sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, and he spontaneously decided to snap a picture of their hands with his mobile phone. It is an amazing, beautiful photo, and they used it as the final picture in her DVD.

  She also said she makes a good screensaver, which made me laugh. Just that day, Ron had put her photo as his screensaver on his BlackBerry, and two days before the reading Jim had replaced a photo on my home computer with a picture of Kelly making a funny face. Jim said he chose it because he just thought it was a really cute picture of her. And it is. She told Allison she liked her picture.

  Kelly had messages for all her family and talked about how we don’t have our barbecues in the backyard like we used to; it had been a while since we had one. She wanted us to start having the barbecues again, and not take them for granted. We will do this, for ourselves and for her. She also said that she loves Christmas, especially the presents. It was so important to her to get everyone a nice present, never anything cheap! She assured us that she will be with the family and wants us to have a joyous Christmas, with no sadness. She said that she is the angel on top of the tree.

  One of the most significant messages Kelly gave me was that we will not lose any more kids, and that everyone is going to be okay. This was important because our niece Angie, who grew up with Kelly and is like one of our own children, was diagnosed with cancer just a few months after Kelly passed away. It was something really hard for all of us to deal with. We couldn’t believe it was happening again. The outcome was much different, though. Angie had one tumour removed and is now cancer-free. The doctors had said there was a slight possibility that it might return, so it was really good to hear this from Kelly.

  During the reading, Ron’s father also came through with Kelly, saying ‘Happy St Patrick’s Day’. We knew immediately what he meant: that was Ron’s dad’s birthday. Allison explained this was Kelly’s way of letting Ron know that she was with his dad and he was okay. This meant a lot to Ron. His father also said Ron needed to get his heart checked. I keep telling Ron he needs to follow through on this. He says he had a complete physical a few months ago and his heart checked out fine. I’m working on him, though . . .

  Allison said there was also a white, fluffy cat with Kelly and we should ask the family who it belonged to. We later found out. My sister June, who lives interstate, called me a few days after the reading. As we were talking about it, she said when her cat had died she thought she had felt Kelly sitting on the bed next to her. I asked her what colour her cat was and she replied, ‘White with some brown, and long hair.’ I told her that her cat was with Kelly.

  Ron and I are both so grateful for being able to have this reading with Allison. It was a great gift for all of us, and it has helped me accept my daughter’s absence with a little less pain. Kelly mentioned in our reading that I talk to her every day and that I’m not crazy. I do talk to her every day and I have asked her if I’m crazy. It’s good to know I’m not! She also said I send her love every day and she sends it back. I will never stop missing her being here physically, and I will never stop missing our daily phone calls. But, now, at least, I know for sure that she is happy and with my grandmother again—and that she is still around us, too. Thank you, Allison . . . and thank you, Kelly.

  4

  Living with life and

  dealing with death

  This chapter is dedicated to our friend Dr Jim Hayes and his wife, Dot. He inspired the writing of this chapter when he opened my eyes by sharing his journey of dying with me. I’ve dealt with the grieving for years, but I haven’t delved into walking with the dying and hearing in their own words how they cope with a death sentence. Jim was admired by all who knew him, and I hope by sharing his story that maybe he can teach you something, too (see pp. 18–33).

  Obviously, when a friend or family member finds out that someone they love is going to die, they’re at a loss for words. What do you say to the person whom you love who’s searching your eyes for the answer to ‘Why me?’

  They are waiting for you to tell them that this isn’t real, that it’s all been a big mistake. Nobody prepares us for death. We are barely prepared for life. But life somehow feels more natural because we have some control over where we go in it.

  Because of my gift, I’ve served in the trenches between life and death for as long as I can remember, and this gives me a unique perspective. When someone is diagnosed as terminal, they start thinking of all the occasions and special moments that they’re going to miss when they pass on. Their life runs like a home movie in their mind, leaving them thinking, ‘This is it? This is how it ends? There has to be a way out of this nightmare!’

  The terminally ill start thinking of all the things they must somehow consolidate and ‘cram’ into whatever time they have left with the ones they love. I remember when my friend Domini was dying of cancer, she shared that she really revelled in being a mum. She said it was the best thing she’d done in her whole life, and to please remind her kids of that fact. She wanted her friends to know she regretted some things in her past that she’d change if she had the chance to, and that meant a lot to me. She shared this feeling with many of us at a party that we had in her honour a few months before she passed away. At that moment she was saying the things that she might not have said for twenty or thirty years, because time was precious and it was running out. I wish I could have given my friend some more time.

  My own experience of losing loved ones to terminal illnesses, coupled with counselling thousands of grieving people, helps me to suggest soothing words to give to the dying that may provide them with some sort of peace, and—equally powerful—what not to say to the dying.

  When a person is sick, often people don’t know what to say to them, or what to do to lift their spirits. Friends and family will have a mixed response to the news of the illness. Some will want to ‘fix’ the situation by looking up alternative treatment methods, and I do encourage tak
ing that approach. It can’t hurt, and sometimes it can lengthen a life. Others will immediately start planning the funeral. It seems to occupy their mind; it keeps them busy and they feel useful. We have a propensity to switch to autopilot when our mind can’t deal with something so painful.

  I think it’s important for all of us to put ourselves in the shoes of the dying in order to begin to understand where their head is, and what we can do to ease some of their fear. Can you imagine being told you’ll never see another Christmas, birthday or wedding anniversary, or that you won’t see your children grow up or your grandchildren be born? It is mind-blowing. When you learn that you will be taken from the life you’ve grown to love and expect, from the people you cherish, an immediate overwhelming fright grips you because you think, ‘What will happen to them when I’m not here? Will they be okay?’

  I find the movie The Family Stone a great tool in learning to empathise with a person who finds themselves faced with a terminal illness. Diane Keaton’s character has breast cancer. Put yourself in her shoes. If you practise stepping into the shoes of the dying, this can help you decide if you could shoulder being there for someone you love, so you’re prepared when the day might come. The movie also makes you appreciate your family even more than you can imagine as you watch Keaton’s character focus on her family’s needs.

  If you were dying, you would most likely question God, and whether there is an afterlife waiting for you. You might wonder if your family and friends who preceded you in death will greet you with open arms, and part of you might be comforted by the thought of seeing them again. Shedding the body that’s become the enemy seems like a kind of victory at some point, knowing that your spirit will live on. So many conf licting thoughts and emotions race through you, including the feeling that you just want to climb out of your body to be rid of the heavy burden that you simply can’t shake.

  Now that you’ve put yourself in their shoes, let’s talk about what not to say to someone who’s terminal. One of the big no-no’s is ‘Be strong, you have to be strong.’ No dying person wants the additional burden of having to worry about their pain ‘offending’ others. If they need to fall apart, so be it! If they want to take a final life trip, support them. It’s about them, not us, not what we need, not now. If there is ever a life stage when we can’t handle others running an agenda, it’s when we’re dying. The terminally ill want everything to slow down so they can stretch out every single minute they have left, and they certainly don’t need to lose even one of those minutes to petty nonsense. Each and every minute is so precious and fragile that it should be spent making a delicious memory and feeling each and every facet of life.

  When a baby is born we celebrate them at this delicate stage of life. We cater to their every need because we love them. The same thing needs to happen when someone we love is dying; we have to love them enough to put them ahead of our agenda as they enter their final stage of life and they transit into the afterlife. You want to make the transition as smooth and calm as possible for them with the assurance that you will stay connected, no matter what.

  Don’t start sentences with ‘You should . . .’ Who are we to instruct them? Unless you’ve been in their shoes and died before, only then would you know, and I’m certain that’s not the case. Telling them that everything will ‘go back to normal’ after they die isn’t very comforting. They want to know you’ll be all right, but at the same time they want to know that they’ll remain a part of you always, so convey that message thoughtfully.

  They need to know they’ll be remembered fondly and that you’ll share their life with all of the younger generations, so they stay connected. Let them know your whole family will ‘expect a visit’ from them regularly, so that everyone gets a turn to see how full of life they still are and also get a rather large hug.

  Definitely don’t ask the dying for a loan, because money for car repairs or your rent is the last thing they need to worry about at such a delicate time. You’d be surprised at how many people do this without thinking about how insensitive it is.

  Hopefully, a will has already been established and distributed in the family so there are no divisions over material items. I myself experienced such a conf lict in my family after my dad passed. It’s no fun and it’s unnecessary.

  Try not to bring your everyday problems to the sick; they need to conserve their energy to fight their illness. We need to lend our positive energy to the sick and be there when they need us—period.

  I find it very helpful to suggest recording messages for people whom the dying love, to be watched on special days in the future. This allows the dying to be a part of days still to come. Letters are also great for birthdays for grandchildren or younger generations so they can stay connected and receive advice on how to get the most from life from the people who love them and have the answers to their life questions. Letters for wedding days to come are also invaluable, and such a meaningful surprise on emotional days. Letters can really be written for any occasion.

  Music is incredibly healing, too, and should be a part of a terminally ill person’s daily life because it evokes good memories and lifts their spirits.

  When a person is dying, they ref lect on every facet of their life, and often they will reach out to make amends. I always tell people to live life without regrets; and as hard as forgiveness can be, it is freeing. Those who choose to carry venom and judge others will be their own worst enemy, and ultimately their own undoing. It’s okay to be a strong person, but try not to wish others ill. It’s not healthy for anyone, and the older you get the more hardened you will become. So, if there are some relationships in your life that left you bruised, do yourself a big favour and leave the hurt in the past. Accept family members for who they are. It doesn’t mean you have to like them. Instead of hoping they’ll see it your way, try to come to terms with simply having different points of view. Sometimes family members are like oil and water, and that’s just life. It’s easy to become stuck in our own emotional turmoil. Sometimes you just have to cut the strings that connect pain to you and choose to rise above it.

  IMMERSED IN DEATH

  I travel the world doing media appearances, book signings and VIP events. I work with smaller groups at my events so people are more likely to get a reading, and it’s a little bit more intimate so I can connect to my audience and they can connect with me. In our lifetime we learn various lessons from a garden of unique people, and we can strive to leave the world in a better place than we found it.

  I’ve read thousands of people and I’ve learned something from each individual I come across. I try to write about a few of the souls who touch me so that my readers can place themselves in my position, and maybe even relate to me, realising both how fortunate I am to possess my abilities and how, if I forget to come up for air in my own life, the exposure to illness and death can take a great toll on me. If you deal with heavy topics in life, remember how necessary it is to have a place to retreat to when you’re stressed, so that you can revitalise yourself. You’re basically doing this to rid yourself of the trauma that you carry around from your everyday life, so that you can actually do some living when it counts. In my professional as well as in my personal life, I’ve observed some heart-wrenching struggles where I’ve seen someone entirely change as a person as they attempt to move past the pain they’ve walked into.

  People who lose many loved ones in their life in a traumatic way are often left wondering why they’re still here. Why they ‘dodged the bullet’ and continue to survive when the ones they love weren’t so fortunate. They often have a traumatised look in their eyes, and you can feel the pain radiating from their skin. You’ll see their guard go up high and thick. Grieving individuals often hold their breath and take very shallow breaths. They seem to almost be ‘white knuckling’ it through life, trying to avoid vulnerability, and they seem to become quite numb. I’ve found this can also apply to parents who feel they were unable to save their child. Parents and their children are i
ndivisible, so the parents become the walking wounded due to the trauma of losing their baby. The child died, therefore the parents become dead inside.

  The other group of people that I notice carry quite large burdens are those who endure death regularly through their profession, such as doctors, nurses, police officers, hospice volunteers, firefighters, soldiers, morticians or even mediums. If I’ve left anyone out, I’m not excluding or minimising any profession; I’m just short of paper. Many members of these kinds of professions learn to put the deceased first and fall apart later, or begin looking at the deaths as an element of the job, their life now, or both.

  Obviously, at my events I’m immersed in some of the most traumatic deaths, which is why the living often seek me out. I sometimes have trouble sleeping because I replay the details of a savage crime scene or relive the last moments of someone’s life over and over in my head, wondering if deaths could have been prevented.

  I’ve seen occasions where the police respond to a call and arrive at the scene of the crime in time to see the f lash of a firing gun taking the life of the innocent. A 30-second difference determined whether or not that victim would die that day.

  I’ve seen devastating cases where the lady of the house answers the door with an ashen-coloured face and tells her neighbour she’s not feeling well that day. An hour later the family of four is found murdered. What if the neighbour had picked up on the fear in the face of the woman and called the police? Would the family be alive? I’m certainly not blaming the neighbour, of course; no doubt she would have helped if she could have. It’s just one of those ‘what if ’ scenarios.

  I occasionally obsess over the many variables involved in a crime. Sometimes when one variable is changed, the outcome can be dramatically better for the victim. I’m writing about this to demonstrate for you some of the scenarios of trauma that we witness on TV or at work that we can carry with us through life. I see people who absorb the tragedies on the news every night, and it wears on them. It takes a hold of them and becomes a part of them. They begin to think the whole world is going to hell in a handbasket. We need to learn how to tone down trauma energy so it doesn’t consume our life.