Talk to Me

by Allison DuBois

  My son was in the service for six years. He was a soldier who suffered with depression.

  I will never forget the night the police came to tell me about my son. It was bitter cold that day and it was about to get even colder. It was midnight when the police rang my doorbell.

  ‘Hi, are you James Allen’s mother?’ they asked.

  ‘Yes, I am. Is something wrong?’

  They responded, ‘There is no easy way to say this . . . Your son has been found in a hotel room. He’s dead. It’s being reported as a suicide.’

  Just like that! The words richocheted through my skull.

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ I replied, ‘but you’re wrong. That can’t be my son. My son isn’t even in New York! He’s in the military, and he’s out of state.’

  ‘Ma’am, we found his ID in his wallet. That’s how we knew to come here.’

  My mind raced. ‘Well, someone must have stolen his wallet!’

  I felt sick, as if none of what was happening was real. I thought, ‘This can’t be. It’s a joke, a sick joke!’ I went to the phone. I needed someone to tell me what I knew to be true: James would never do something like this to himself or his family.

  I called his siblings and I repeated over and over, ‘The police are here. They’re saying your brother killed himself . . . but you know James would never do anything like that, right? You know that, right? It’s all a mistake. You’ll see in the morning when we go to the coroner’s office.’

  The next morning on the way to the coroner’s office, I remember praying as my husband drove the car. I don’t think it really sank in until I walked into the room and saw my other children sitting there. It was the way they looked at me that made me start to back up as I pointed to them and said over and over, ‘No, no, no. This isn’t true!’ Then the wait, and begging God, ‘When they raise the curtain, please don’t let it be my son.’ Over and over I begged. All the prayers in the world could not prepare me for what I was about to see . . .

  I remember him lying there behind that glass. ‘He looks cold,’ I said. ‘Can I get him a blanket?’

  I really don’t know what I was thinking. I just remember feeling sick—a kind of sick that I’ve never experienced before in my life. It was agony. I went outside to throw up in the snow, and all I felt was numb. A piece of me died that day with my son . . . and my world would never be the same.

  I have four children, each one different. James was one of a kind. In his eyes, I could do no wrong.

  For me, there are no more notes from him, each one ending ‘xoxox James’.

  For me, there is no more ‘I love you, Ma’ at the end of every phone call from my beautiful baby boy.

  I had always believed in life after life, even before my son’s passing. Now that he had passed, it wasn’t enough to just believe. I had to buy and read every book I could get my hands on about the subject. One of my favourite books, and the most comforting, was Allison’s We Are Their Heaven.

  I needed to learn as much as I could if I was to continue my relationship with my son. I needed to connect with him. There was no suicide note from James. There was no closure for me until the first time I met Allison at one of her seminars.

  My daughter raised her hand to ask a question. Allison started to answer her, and then said, ‘I’m sorry, I need to stop you there.’

  It was then she turned to me and asked, ‘Are you the mother? Because I have a message for you.’

  As long as I live, I will never forget that day or the words that followed.

  ‘Your son says, “You need to stop thinking the way you’re thinking, it’s not your time.” He also wants you to know that he is a mama’s boy, and always will be a mama’s boy.’

  Simple words to some, but for me it was the first time I had heard them from my son. Those were the very words his brother used to tease him with when he was younger: ‘You’re a mama’s boy, mama’s boy!’ as James would hug me and look at his brother to irritate him even more. To hear those words from Allison gave my heart joy, something I hadn’t felt since James’s death.

  Allison followed up with a few more messages from my son and, when we left, even my girls were believers at that point.

  ‘You were right, Mum, it’s real. Allison is the real deal! That was our brother. Oh my God, we heard from James!’

  We all cried that night, but this time it was tears of joy that we shared.

  To have Allison do a reading for me in depth, a second time, was more than any mum could ever hope for. It was a blessing from God. There are no words to describe the emotions I felt as, over the phone, she delivered message after message from my son.

  She started by describing my son with the ‘wind in his hair’ on a road trip in a Jeep.

  ‘Why does he keep showing me a Jeep?’ she asked.

  At first, I could barely answer. The joy in my heart was overwhelming.

  James’s sister had bought a red Jeep in memory of her brother, because he had always wanted a red convertible. She had the tyre cover painted with James’s life years and name, honouring his memory, and drives the car with the top off. She insisted she could not get rid of it, because her brother loved it. She was right.

  Allison confirmed that James loved driving around with his sister in the Jeep.

  Then Allison said, ‘He keeps saying, “Ask my mum about the necklace.” Do you wear a necklace for him?’

  Every day since the day after his funeral service, for more than three years, I have worn a necklace with a cross on it that carries my son’s ashes in it. When Allison said that my son knew that, for the first time since his death I felt at peace.

  The only time Allison mentioned any names was when it came to James’s brother. She said, ‘He also references a “Nick” connection to him. Do you know who this is?’

  Nick is James’s big brother. After delivering James’s message for me to give to Nick, Allison said, ‘It’s funny, James says his brother wouldn’t have believed in the reading if I hadn’t come through with his name.’ Nick does not have an open heart in matters of life after life, but Allison had no clue that Nick was a non-believer. As if the rest wasn’t confirmation enough for me, to have Allison say that just about knocked me over!

  Allison relayed many messages, but, most importantly, I know my son James is still with us, that he loves us and he knows we love him more than words can possibly express. My son was so proud of being a soldier, and we will always honour him.

  Tribute to James from his mum

  Love is the tie that binds us together forever. Death is not the end, it is a new beginning.

  YOU BATTLED THE DARKNESS UNTIL

  YOU FOUND THE LIGHT. XOXOX

  SPC James Patrick Allen

  April 3, 1982—February 8, 2008

  11

  Team DuBois

  It’s been six years since we first filmed the pilot for Medium in March 2004, and so much has changed since then. We were informed in October 2010 that after seven seasons of unbelievably great writing, producing and acting, Medium would take her final bow in the United States in January 2011.

  A lot of people told me how sorry they were that it was ending, and that’s so sweet. I was fine with it coming to an end, personally. I am a real person, and it’s hard to be compared to my character all the time. It was kind of funny, though, some of the things people would say to me:

  ‘Allison, why doesn’t Patricia have red hair?’

  Well, because she’s a blonde.

  ‘Allison, do you really talk to dead people?’

  Uh, yeah, that’s why the show centres around a woman who talks to the dead.

  ‘Allison, does your house look like the one on the show?’

  The questions were endless, and I understand people’s curiosity. It’s just that sometimes you want to have regular conversations, and now I can do just that.

  We had seven wonderful seasons, and I met a lot of great folks along the way. My daughter Fallon became very close to Maria Lark (the actr
ess who portrays her), as did we all. Maria’s like a fourth daughter to us. I got to know the mysterious Glenn Caron and see his genius create a show that will be remembered forever. Patricia Arquette—who I’ve always said is a ‘much softer version of me’—is inspiring to know because she really does want to help make the world a better place. She’s so fantastic. Jake Weber, also a wonderful human being. And, ladies, does he play a great husband and dad or what?

  Anyway, it was great to go out with the number-one rating for our time slot. Going out on top is preferred. So, as much as I love the show, I was fine with it coming to an end; I could embark on a new phase in my life.

  Writing this book, for instance, is very important to me—so is touring, creating new shows, and figuring out what I want to change in the world with my family by my side. Every time I go on tour, my kids seem to grow another inch, or make a memory that I wasn’t there to witness. Now that they’re older, I can take them with me when I travel and show them the world they were born into. Even though they share me with the people who need my guidance, they will always be my priority, and now is a good time to remind them of that fact.

  I’ve learned a lot being in the spotlight. There’s a lot of criticism when you’re a public figure, and people are waiting for you to fail. But as long as you’re true to yourself, their opinions of you don’t matter. I’m a medium, and we’re expected to lead a boring, mundane life, and just be around to answer questions—but you know we’re more than that.

  I’ve always been an explosive redhead who’s loyal to a fault, and I’m very passionate, and guess what? I have a social life and I like to have fun with my friends, and I won’t feel bad for that. Some people would like me to fit into an ‘image’ of what they think I should be, but I’m going to live for myself instead. There’s a lot of pressure for everyone to be what others want you to be. Don’t give in to it.

  Honestly, the mediums I know are an unpredictable blast, and talented to boot. We immerse ourselves in death all the time, so when we’re ‘off the clock’ we just want to rejoin the living and revel in the life that others aren’t here to enjoy. Mediums tend to be a lot of fun, actually, and I’m so blessed to know many wonderful, gifted people in my field.

  Joe and I have been together for almost twenty years. We have created a colourful, exciting life side by side, and I can’t wait to ‘grow young’ together. Our daughters are developing into lovely young ladies, and each one of them is remarkable and one of a kind.

  Joe and I moved to Los Angeles, California, a couple of years ago so the girls could spend more time with me while I balance a career and my incredible family. We feel connected to our new friends here, and we still have a strong bond with our friends in Arizona.

  I am passionate about touring and writing, so needless to say, I will continue to do both for a very long time.

  The words in this book are meant to educate people and further the mending of broken hearts everywhere.

  ‘When in the midst of loss and despair, remember

  the spark of life can never truly be extinguished.’

  —Allison DuBois

  12

  Live forever

  ‘If you emphasise your strengths you will bury your weaknesses.’

  —Allison DuBois

  I spend my life around those who are dealing with the loss of loved ones, and so I guess I’ve learned a lot about loss, which meets us in many different ways.

  At present the planet is facing some pretty big challenges. We are at a time in history when many people are feeling lost as they take a financial freefall; many feel as though the rug that had always underpinned them has been yanked out from under them, leaving them wondering: what’s next for me? I find it helpful when you can come to terms with a lack of certainty and understand that it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. When life as you know it changes, it’s really an opportunity to fine-tune your energy and increase your appreciation for what you see around you. Take a moment and start counting the many blessings and beautiful memories that decorate your life.

  Too many people get sucked into the trap of self-pity; we’ve all been there, but make sure you don’t get stuck there permanently. Constant self-pity turns a soul into a sort of black hole that will drain anyone who comes into contact with it and make it repellent to others. I’m not talking about a person who has just lost a loved one and needs to talk; I mean the people who blame everyone else in their life for anything bad that happens to them.

  Instead of this trap, focus on positive energy; take ownership of your life and try to create as many opportunities to laugh as humanly possible. Laughter is an infectious gift, and if you look around you’ll see many people who need a pick-me-up. Keep in mind that someone always has it worse than you do; rather than looking at what you don’t have, savour your life and truly open your eyes to what you do have. You’ll encounter plenty of people who want to compete over who’s got it worse, but don’t take the bait. Instead, go watch a comedy, or go to the park and watch children play. Carefree and loving all the little miracles around them, children are a great reminder of what living looks like. Have you ever watched a five-year-old marvel at a ladybug, or at a f lower they picked (which is actually a weed, but they think it’s miraculous)? My daughters have such vibrant spirits. Being around them makes me feel so alive; we go to the arcade and play games, make cupcakes or just look at old pictures of ourselves and giggle at how crazy my hair looked when I was a teenager! It’s easier and more enjoyable to be happy rather than miserable, so find somebody to laugh with and improve your life one happy memory at a time.

  I’ve done readings for several thousand people over the years and I’ve noticed that how they deal with death varies depending on their life experiences as well as the strengths or weaknesses in their own spirit. Those variables will also determine how well they live their lives. Their core energy will play a hand in whether or not they can take a difficult situation and find a redeeming aspect of it or whether they wallow in the pain, not only multiplying the anguish but visiting it upon others as well. I can speak from personal experience: losing my own dad when I was thirty years old, a time when I had three very little girls who I had hoped would make happy memories with my daddy, I knew that I needed to face how his death affected me. I wrote about my devastation so that others could relate to my loss and learn how to move through their own pain. I’ve received a lot of feedback from other people who had been forced to cope with death and were able to relate to my loss. They said it made them feel less alone in their journey and that’s a very good thing! No one should have to feel isolated carrying around that kind of pain; we’re all in this together at one point in our lives.

  While thinking of what it means to inspire others, I started thinking of special people who’ve inspired me.

  IN THE LINE OF FIRE

  A woman named Rudrani Devi was booked for a life reading with me, but I didn’t realise that she was about to help me look inside of myself as much as I had hoped to hold a mirror up for her in her reading.

  When you walk down the street you never know who you will cross paths with or how you will be affected by the encounter. People who are forced to suffer the trauma of losing loved ones to violence are an example to us all of how the human spirit can rise above the hatred that brews in the dark hearts that willingly take from us our most precious loves. Rudrani Devi is a woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it was that fatal moment that forever changed who she is, providing us all with inspiration. As you read her story, let Rudrani’s spirit inspire you to live the life that you were meant to live.

  RUDRANI’S STORY

  No one could have prepared me for the events in Mumbai, India, on Thanksgiving of 2008, dubbed by the press the ‘Mumbai Massacre of 26/11’. However, when I look back on it now, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. As a survivor, I’m here to tell you that God has an amazing capacity to give us what we want, even if it doesn’t look like it at the time.

&nb
sp; Travelling to India with some long-time friends for a meditation retreat in November 2008 was a once-in-a-lifetime journey that would end in terror and tragedy. After a beautiful day visiting ashrams and sacred holy shrines, I was sitting in a five-star hotel restaurant which was open to the lobby, having dinner with my friends. Minutes after we’d sat down, terrorists came around the corner with automatic rifles and opened fire. I was shot at point-blank range in the right arm and right leg and left to die among the other victims. Two of my friends were executed, while two others were severely injured. I was bleeding profusely from my right leg and it was determined later that I had lost four units of blood—the body only holds seven. As I lay there, I made my peace with God, but then I heard the voice of the Divine Mother telling me to ‘watch and trust’.

  Suddenly, kitchen staff called out to us, saying that if we wanted to survive we had to come at once. I couldn’t get up, so I held out both my hands in the direction of the voices and said, ‘Drag me!’ One of the wait staff ran out of safety to pull me by my wrists across the carnage to the staff door of the kitchen. Inside the barricaded door I had a brief moment of feeling safe, but then bullets riddled the doorframe and a hand grenade came flying through the service window. Fortunately for all of us, it was a dud. We finally managed to make it out the employee entrance and after several attempts at flagging down a cab I was transported to Bombay Hospital. There I waited hours for surgery to remove a bullet that had lodged next to my femoral artery. If it had pierced the artery, I would have bled out in moments.

  The terrorist attack lasted nearly three days, took the lives of 185 people and severely injured or maimed another 500. Although I was told I might never walk again, I felt lucky to be alive. It would take 26 months of rehabilitation on my shattered leg before I could walk. Within the first ten months, my husband of six years left me, my holistic healthcare clinic closed its doors and I became estranged from the organisation I had been a part of for 23 years. You would think I might have been better off dead, but with great tragedy came great liberation. I lightened my load in many ways and became more of who I was meant to be, an authentic loving soul. I appreciated my very breath and I knew in the deepest recesses of my being that it was pure magic and a miracle that I had survived.