COPING WITH GRIEF

In the few hours prior to my son’s death, I had to accept he really was dying. It shouldn’t have been a shock since I’d been watching him fade for the past several months. But it was really happening.

With the work I do as a psychic medium, I knew where he was going and who would be there to greet him, my father, my mother, my brother, my nephew, my grandparents and so many other cherished family and friends. The homecoming would be glorious. And patiently waiting his turn to offer his own welcome home would be Jesus. A wondrous event.

Mike’s body would be young and healthy and vibrant again as he becomes surrounded with an abundance of unconditional love. The joy of homecoming won't erase the longing for those he’d be leaving behind, but the glory of Heaven is hard to resist. Peace, happiness, joy, love, celebration. All his now.

This phenomenal homecoming is what I’d envisioned for my son and what I feel to be true.

Knowing this, you would think I wouldn’t spiral down so deep in my grief, but boy did I.

I made it through my first birthday without him and his first birthday not being here. I made it through the first Thanksgiving and the first Christmas and the first New Year. Then I just didn’t seem to care about anything. I couldn’t sleep. I was up every few hours. It didn’t matter how much I loved my other two sons, my daughters-in-law, my grandchildren, my friends. There was this emptiness where Michael should have been.

And I couldn’t understand how I’d been talking to dead people for 22 years and now the knowledge and beliefs I’ve formed over those years suddenly vanished. I was stuck.

Grief is devastating. It will take over your heart, your mind, your soul and your sanity.

With the grief came anger, accompanied by depression, and I suddenly didn’t feel like myself. It was like I no longer knew who I was. Where I was going, what I thought, felt, or believed. I was tired. I was overwhelmed by emotions I’d never imagined feeling, that I couldn’t even put a name to some of them.

Mixed with the grief, I discovered guilt hiding. I should have done more. I didn’t do enough. I should have said this or should not have said that. By that point I was sure every decision I’d made regarding Mike from his birth through 55 years had been wrong.

I was a mess.

Thankfully, I had enough self-preservation left to call the doctor before it became something I might not have been able to come back from. Medication and counseling followed.

I’m better but understanding your grief and finding a way to live with it is a process.

And I'm happy to say, now that I’ve gotten some sleep and sorted through some emotions, I understand my truth and beliefs never left me. I was hurting too bad to feel and remember that we never really die. And Mike's homecoming was simply glorious!