When sharing such information, it’s rather unsettling to feel the client’s pain. She verified my information and was okay with it. I explained to her that her father had chosen to turn away from the light and that this in no way reflected on her. I think people can create their own hell and take it with them should they decide they don’t want to part with their darker spiritual features. Good children can be born to sinister people, and vice versa. Don’t spend your life paying for your family’s choices. People don’t look at you and see your family; they see only you. The client I spoke of whose father turned from the light is one of the most centered, kind, loving women I have ever met. She is an exceptional mother and is a friend to many lucky people.
A few times, in similar situations, the client has bolted up off the couch in less than fifteen minutes and said, “I just needed to know that he went where he belonged!” and left.
Psychics are not here to tell people how to live; we are just trying to give people insight into their future so they can make the most of their precious time on earth. I must admit it’s hard to watch people fall back into life patterns that cost them their happiness. We can only advise and send people angels to guide them. The will of the human spirit can override all the guidance sent, so listen carefully to what you hear when you’re sensing your truth.
Chapter 12
If You Never Die
To bring a relieved smile to a person’s face after helping to her gain closure with a deceased loved one means more to me than words can possibly say. I found myself on the other side of the table when my high school friend Domini died at age thirty-one.
I had known Domini since I was fourteen, when we met during my freshman year at North High. I remember the day we met at the bus stop in front of school. Domini was a gymnast; she looked feminine but was definitely able to handle herself if needed. She had the most captivating Julia Roberts smile. She was all teeth. She was friendly and approachable and we quickly struck up a conversation. After that we were fast friends.
Although Domini was vivacious and beautiful, she had a wounded, childlike spirit. Her childhood had been complicated and she longed to fit in and be loved. She was always the life of the party. She was diagnosed with malignant melanoma in July 2000 and died on April 2, 2001. It was hard watching my friend suffer.
Sometimes being psychic is difficult, because you know something awful is coming that you can’t stop—you can only sit and watch your prediction unfold. For a long time, I’d had a strong feeling that Domini would die of cancer around the age of thirty. When I was about nineteen, I told her that I saw her life ending in about ten years and that cancer would be the culprit. I was not the only one who sensed her early demise.
In our teens, I had a moment with Domini that shall never escape me. She and I were best friends. We went to see the movie Beaches, starring Bette Midler. As the story on the screen unfolded, Domini turned toward me. We were at the part where Bette Midler’s character was talking to her best friend (played by Barbara Hershey). Hershey was explaining to Midler that she had a heart virus and was going to die. Hershey wanted Midler to take care of her daughter after she passed away.
“Ali?” (Dom was the only one who ever called me Ali.) “If something happened to me and I died, would you do that for me? Would you take care of my child and tell her all about me?”
I tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Well, not all about you.”
But I saw that she was serious, so I reassured her. “Domini! Yes, of course I would.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes!”
Domini looked relieved. She knew that I am a stickler for keeping my word.
Our own lives paralleled the movie in many ways. Just a few years after this promise was made, Domini and her husband, Dominic, had a beautiful little daughter whom they named Marissa. But by my early twenties, I had lost contact with Dom. I was married, with my own family, and we went our separate ways.
I thought of her frequently and I wondered about her cute little redheaded girl, the baby whose diaper I had tried to change but invariably put on backwards. The toddler who received nothing but Happy Meals from me because I didn’t know what to feed a small child. I had had no experience with children, but I tried, because I wanted to help Domini take care of her little girl. I wanted to know Marissa and for her to know me.
Six years went by, and then in 2000 I decided to find her. I ran a computer search and located her through Dominic, from whom she was divorced. The urgency that I felt about finding her was no coincidence. My guides were sending me to her for a reason. I told Domini that I was interning at the county attorney’s office and she informed me that she was working down the street from me. For the next few months, Domini and I spent lots of time on the phone; it was as if six years had never passed.
She had a new husband, and they’d had a baby girl that March. I offered to bring dinner over (she lived about an hour from me); I wanted to see her new baby. Joe and I loaded up the kids and went to spend the evening with Dom and her new family.
It was the first time I had seen Marissa since she was three years old. She was the same bright-eyed girl whom I remembered taking to McDonald’s. The night seemed to pass much too quickly. We pored over scrapbooks full of old pictures and talked for hours; then it was time to go. The following week Dom’s phone was disconnected and I did not hear from her for four long months.
In the summer of 2000 she was diagnosed with cancer and contacted me to share the news. She succumbed to her illness soon after. All those years ago, Dom and I had sat together watching a movie that was a glimpse into our future. We cried together and we laughed together, and later, when it was time, we said good-bye together. I believe that Domini knew as we watched that movie that her time on earth would be short. Domini had said so many times that she always knew that she would not grow old. She was right.
Until We Meet Again
I don’t like to say good-bye because it’s too final. I like to say, “Till we meet again.”
Domini spent several months fighting her cancer. I used my time with her wisely, making every moment count. Stacey, to whom I became close through Domini’s illness, helped me fulfill some of Domini’s last wishes. Closure is important for both the dying and the loved ones left behind. Don’t be emotionally paralyzed by the unfortunate circumstances. If you’re lucky enough to have this valuable time, consider yourself blessed. Ask what your loved one would like to do or see while she remains here. You have an opportunity that many people would give anything for.
Domini had always wanted a cute apartment, but cleaning and decorating weren’t her strong suit. So Stacey and I cleaned her entire apartment while she was out. We added all-new, bright, cheerful home decorations. We burned candles and incense until we lost our sense of smell. Domini loved her apartment! She reveled in the floral aroma, and she delighted in each of the new little knickknacks that she found peppered throughout her apartment.
Domini had also stated that she really wanted a lobster for dinner. She hadn’t always enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. Now she was taking the time to do just that. A lobster was easy enough to arrange. We took her out to dinner and talked about being sixteen years old.
When you’re young you can’t really fathom that your life will end. You don’t think about what you’d want for a last meal or what you’d say to those you were about to leave behind. You have all the time in the world, and you live life fearlessly. You also don’t realize that the choices you make in your teens can affect your entire life.
Over dinner, we talked with the wisdom of three women who had learned the hard way. At sixteen, we’d thought we knew it all, had done it all, and one day would have it all. Now we all agreed that being young is both a blessing and a curse. You have no cares and no worries, but you are lacking in good judgment when you need it the most. We laughed and cried about growing up and then we drove Dom back to her apartment to rest.
A few weeks before Domini�
�s thirty-first birthday we had a just-like-old times party in her honor so that she could spend time with old friends. There is so much value in saying what needs to be said while people you love are still here. It goes a long way. My guides gave me the date of March 22, which both Stacey and I wrote on our calendars. They said that on that day something pivotal would happen in Domini’s life. I knew that she wasn’t going to pass on that day, so I prepared myself for whatever else might happen.
March 22 came and went. Stacey and I couldn’t figure out what my guides had meant. The next day I received a call from Dominic, Domini’s ex-husband. He said that Domini had gone into convulsions the night before and had been admitted to a hospice. Up until then, she had done everything in her power to stay out of a hospice. Even though she needed care, she chose to suffer at home. She knew in her heart that once she went in she wouldn’t come out. Of course, her feeling was right.
At two o’clock on April 2, my guides told me to go see her. They even showed me the route that I would travel to see her. I had several readings booked, and as usual I was busy running around trying to take care of too many things at once. I looked at the clock at around 4:15 P.M. Every minute after that, my eyes were drawn back to the clock.
“What?” I said to my guides. “Judge Judy is half over; so what?” I went to an appointment and came home feeling sluggish. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. I walked in through the garage door. I looked up and saw my husband walking toward me. I shook my head and said, “Domini died, didn’t she?”
Joe said, “Yes, she died at two-fifty this afternoon.”
Sometimes I think I don’t deserve my guides. I had so many things on my mind that I completely ignored their signs. They tried to get me to my friend to say good-bye one last time and I dismissed them. They tried to tell me she was passing, and I was too busy to receive their message.
The very next day after her death, I received some information from the other side that there was a ring in a white box that was intended for Domini’s daughter Marissa. Domini hadn’t been really clear about details after she was diagnosed with cancer and had not arranged to get the ring to Marissa, but it was very important to her. Domini was the eternal optimist and thought that she was going to beat the cancer. One way for her to keep from dying was to not tie up the loose ends.
This is a common practice among the dying. Many feel that death can’t happen to them if they haven’t said their good-byes. Unfortunately, death doesn’t work that way.
I was told that the white box would be stuck under a mattress, or hidden by a mattress. I could see a mattress; a hand was lifting it at the corner and pointing. I had to try to interpret this vision. Clearly, Dominic needed to look under the mattress, so I called him to share this information.
I felt terrible calling Dominic, because he had taken care of Dom while she was dying and he had his own pain to deal with. I was there when they met thirteen years earlier. Although they didn’t always see eye to eye, he never stopped loving her and he could not stop thinking of her, because they had so many similarities. Besides their names, they also shared the same birthday.
If you’re wondering why Dominic cared for her and her new husband did not, it’s because the second husband had stepped out of the picture as soon as Domini became sick. She apparently wasn’t much fun for him anymore. A couple of months before she died, he filed for divorce. Fortunately for him, it hadn’t yet gone through, so he could still receive benefits from her death. I have one word for him: karma.
Dominic called later that day. He had found the box with the ring in it, stuck between a mattress and a nightstand. I said, “Is the box white? Because if it isn’t in a white box, I won’t feel confirmation.” (I can be a little demanding of my gift. Plus, my dear friend had passed away and I wanted to be absolutely sure that I was receiving her loud and clear.
“Yes, Allison, it’s white, just like you said.”
Dominic’s spirits seemed to lift once he knew Domini was communicating with us. She was sending a sign to those she loved that she was all right. More important, she was handing her ring over to her little girl Marissa, with love from the other side.
Most people would expect a medium to handle a friend’s death much more gracefully than would an average person. But after Domini died, I was like any grieving person. I felt as if I had been caught with my guard down. I have always seen the dearly departed attending their own funerals and felt comforted by that. At Domini’s funeral I felt no such comfort.
As I watched her children play in the cemetery, unaware of the enormity of the occasion, I felt as though I’d been punched in the chest. The children seemed to run in slow motion, and their laughter was haunting. As I stood next to Domini’s casket I could feel the physical weight of her body inside the casket along with her cancer. I felt sick and I tried to remember her before the cancer found its way through her body.
I think of Domini all the time. I recall the feeling of her cancer and remember the last time we sat together before she died. I didn’t want to leave her then because I knew that I would never see her alive again. Cancer had reduced her to a shadow of her former physical self. As I held her, I feared I would break her because she was so fragile. Saying good-bye when you know it’s for the last time is like no other sadness you will ever experience.
I know that Domini isn’t in pain any longer; she’s restored and vivacious again. Still, although I know that she is in a better place, I feel that her energy, as I knew it, has been removed from my world.
I also feel guilty. Domini had just had a baby, a year before she died. I saw her right after the baby was born, and I told her that something was wrong with her physically. She insisted that it was because she had just had a baby. I told her it wasn’t from having a baby. I persisted and made her promise to see a doctor. She reluctantly promised me at first, but then she said that she’d just seen a doctor, who said that she was fine.
This is where I find myself in a difficulty. I know that I couldn’t have changed the outcome of Dom’s life, but part of me feels that because I’ve done it for other people, I should have been able to intervene for her. But it was not to be. Domini had experienced a great deal of pain while she was pregnant, but her doctors thought it was because of her pregnancy. By the time she was diagnosed it was too late: her cancer was inoperable. I, too, must learn the lesson that you cannot blame yourself when you lose someone you love. Sometimes it’s out of our hands.
Domini’s two youngest children will not have a clear memory of her, although I have no doubt they will receive regular visits from their mother. She would have it no other way.
I try to remember that there is a reason for everything, but I am human and feel great sadness when someone’s life experiences are limited. I’ve also learned that it’s all right to mourn. Crying and asking why is a healthy way of working through your grief. I encourage people to talk to their loved ones on the other side. They will not only listen to you; they will answer you, one way or another.
When someone has passed prematurely, my ability to bring some sort of comfort is particularly important to me, because the wound is so raw for those left behind. Loved ones who remain to pick up the pieces have many unanswered questions. One of the biggest is “Why did you leave me?”
The answer can be an antidote for the pain, or it can add to the sense of loss. There is solace in knowing that we stay connected even beyond death and that there are reasons for every ending and beginning. Please know that your loved one simply got to go first. They will greet you when it’s your turn and it will be like no other family reunion you’ve ever experienced.
Our loved ones who cross over still go through life with us. They act as added energy when you need it. When you need strength, you might call out to your grandfather on the other side for strength and guidance. When you need patience, you might ask your mother to calm you. I know that when I get too serious, Domini is the burst of fun energy that tells me to lighten up. Allow your l
oved ones to be a part of you and provide inspiration in your life.
I once had the opportunity to do a reading for a nice gentleman and his wife. I asked him whether he had a brother on the other side who died as a child.
He said no.
“That’s strange,” I said, “because the energy is a brother energy.”
“Oh,” he said, “I had a nephew who died when he was twelve. We were very close in age; we were like brothers. We grew up together. His name was Martin.”
“Did he wear leg braces?”
“Yes, he did,” Martin’s uncle said.
Martin expressed concern over his parents. He worried that his death drove a wedge between them, and he went into detail about how they still grieve for him. He wanted closure for them. I explained to Martin that his parents would not be open to this experience. Martin kept giving me the names Robert and Bobby. I turned to Martin’s uncle and asked, “Who are Robert and Bobby to Martin? Martin’s being persistent.”
“Martin isn’t my nephew’s first name. His first name is Robert, and his middle name is Martin. Bobby is Martin’s father’s name.”
Martin was terribly concerned about his father’s well-being and had many nostalgic memories to share with his uncle. His uncle wanted to share Martin’s messages with Martin’s father. He hoped that Bobby would be willing to listen. Some people are not ready to hear messages from the other side and some people are not ready to give messages from the other side. It’s a shame, because when those on both sides are willing to take part in a meeting, there is a great opportunity for healing and closure. It’s healthy to remain open to life’s possibilities.
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