How a Psychic Medium Changed My Life Forever

How one exceptional woman with a gift lifted me from a chasm of loss

 Let’s face it. ON the surface, it’s quite easy to be skeptical.    The idea that someone has the ability to communicate with loved ones who have passed away or “crossed over” and can effortlessly translate messages to those who desire answers, closure or simply comfort, can be a challenging concept to comprehend.  Even for me, the girl who has always considered herself fairly open to supernatural and spiritual discoveries, I am still amazed and thankful that my perspective morphed from an on the fence, unconvinced naysayer to a true believer. 

 

It all started back in Brooklyn on August 11th 2009, I received a call at 2am from my sister who could barely communicate to me through her tears.  Her message was that our beloved father had just suffered a massive heart attack.  My father was a glorious man, a well-respected member of the community, loved by all, who lived life to the fullest. He was also my best friend and confidant.  He ate and drank as he pleased, played golf as his exercise and also coped with quite a bit of stress from being a fastidious multi- business owner.  Much to his detriment, however, my father also smoked a pack (maybe more) of cigarettes a day for over four decades.   So after receiving this horrifying message from my sister, my husband and I frantically tried to get ready and hysterically headed to Pennsylvania the minute Avis rent-a-car opened its doors for business. 

 

After two grueling days of truly exceptional doctors trying to do everything they could to revive my father; from icing him down and warming him up in an attempt to boost his heart rate, to test after test, the doctors regretfully explained to my mother that she had to make an agonizing decision about what to do next.  Dad had no gag reflex; barely a pulse and the lead doctor confirmed that his brain was completely devoid of any activity.   The once dynamic, magnificent, could-make-a-room-full-of-people-laugh, loving, sympathetic, inspiring, beautiful, most intelligent fellow I had ever known, was brain dead.    My brave mother, through her crippling sadness, decided that we had to do what was best for our father and turn off the life support machine peacefully. 

 

Fortunately, the hospital gave us enough time to summons our priest, a man who was a friend and someone who greatly respected my father.  Luckily, he arrived in great haste.   There we were; my mother, my father’s mother, my father’s siblings, my sister’s and I with each of our husbands, my cousin who worked at the hospital, the priest- all of us, looking at my father, watching the life support machine pump his chest up and down with life for the last few times.  We could see the EKG number falling; falling until ultimately, a flat line.  My dear and beloved daddy, my greatest protector and the man who loved and adored his family beyond words, was gone.   I sat there, next to the bed, holding his hand for what felt like hours until I finally was asked by my family to try to get up and go home.  I was paralyzed.  I couldn’t move.  I felt like I was in a nightmare.   “Why can’t I wake myself up out of this horrible dream? This has gone too far.  I need to wake up!!!”

 

The ride home was black and ominous.   I honestly, to this day, do not remember the actual ride home, I just know that I didn’t want to step foot in my parents house since my father would never physically be joining us there again.  This house was foreign to me at this moment.  It felt different, like an empty abyss of sadness.  This was not the warm and vibrant home that I grew up in and knew my whole life.  Without dad, it never would be again.   I am not a smoker and knowing that smoking was probably 99% of the reason my father was gone, one would only imagine that smoking would be even more detested by me than it already had been.  However, when we got home on that fateful day, I remember opening a bottle of whiskey and then grabbing one of my father’s cigarettes from his brief case.  For some reason, I believed that by smoking one of HIS cigarettes, I would somehow be connected with him or feel his presence, or even receive a message, a sign from him that he was with us and that he was alright (wherever he was). 

 

The months following were the hardest days I ever had to encounter.  I had gone on autopilot trying to drive back and forth from Brooklyn to Pennsylvania to care for  my grieving mother.   One of my two sisters and I had to be with her at all times.   Come December of 2009, I felt like I was hitting rock bottom.  I was drinking, a lot, every day to numb the pain, still fresh from my father’s passing.   I felt soulless, unhealthy, gray, unable to see any good in the world, angry and wounded.   I didn’t want to sleep, because every day when I woke up, I would get sucker punched in the face with the reminder that dad was gone.  It was debilitating to just live.   I felt as though I could see myself and I looked terrible.  I knew, deep down in the hole in my soul, that I would need to do something, and fast before it was too late. 

 

On December 9^th, I opened my laptop and for some reason I kept seeing ads from Mediums, Psychics and Tarot Card readers.  As I mentioned earlier, I have always had an open mind to all things spiritual, however the most interaction I had ever encountered was paying 5$ at the Jersey Shore a few times to one of those silly readings by a “real” tarot card soothsayer who guessed everything wrong each time.    Advertisement after advertisement, finally I said to myself “What the hell.”  Maybe seeing a medium could help me and maybe, just maybe, I could speak to my father in the ether. 

 

Just then, I ventured to YELP and typed in “Psychic Medium Brooklyn” and sure enough, right on top of the vast list was a woman named Jewel. I investigated every review of hers and everyone who had booked time with her, claimed she was the read deal.   So I emailed Jewel after reading all the positive evaluations with a very basic request to see her when she had time.   Two minutes later I hear a “Ping.” I received an email response from her.  She said, “ Can you come down now?”   Considering her apartment was a twenty-minute walk from my apartment, I said reluctantly “YES?” She wrote back “Great!”  See you shortly!”  I was flummoxed and excited at the same time.  I hurriedly got ready and headed over to visit this strange and enticing woman.   For some reason, I felt deep down that everything was going be all right and that Jewel wasn’t a psycho murderer or anything like that. 

 

As I walked up her chilly street and could see that I was approaching her home, I became nervous and actually started shaking a bit with excitement.  “What’s going to happen now???”  I kept trying to decide whether I should turn around and run home, however a driving force in me persevered.   I decided to keep an open mind and JUST DO IT.

 

Not knowing what to expect, the door flies open and there is Jewel.  A lovely, Hispanic, not-too-tall, woman with an amazing white-teeth smile glares back at me.  “Hello!”  I said.  “Please take your shoes off and go sit on the couch” Jewel replies to me.  So I hastily remove my boots and coat and rush over to the sofa through the heavy smell of burning sage.   Jewel has an L-shaped couch and I am sitting at the one point and she is sitting across from me at the other.  I notice that there are tissues, a pen and paper at my side.  “That’s for your notes.” she explained.  “Any messages I receive you should write down so you don’t forget and can reference them in the future.”  I nodded back confirming I understood.  

 

Jewel turns on the alarm clock and starts our one-hour session.  She lets me know that for most of the session, she will be doing all the talking.  So I take a deep breath and realize that she’s looking almost over my shoulder, not really at me per se.  Jewel says “ There is a woman in the room, a grandmother, and she is going to get your father. - Your father has crossed over, correct?”    I said, “ YES! This is why I am here!” Jewel says “SHH! I don’t want to know anything.  DON’T tell me anything; just validate what I tell you when I do. “  “Ok, no problem.”  I said sheepishly.   “Your grandmother- she has a name that starts with an “R”. hmmm Ral-Rallia?”  WHAT??? My great grandmother who died when I was twelve was named RALLIA.   How could she know that? Then she starts to laugh while still not looking at me, but past me.  “Your dad was a funny guy, wasn’t he?” she said.  I shook my head “yes” to confirm. 

 

And THEN it happened. 

 

My father and I had a long running joke between us that when I would come home from NYC / Brooklyn for the holidays or whenever that he would either love my hair or hate it.  My hair has been everything, short and black, blond, braided, red, long and red, you name it!  When I would walk in, he would either say, “Oh my God, what did you do to your hair??”  Or he would say “ WOW I love your hair!”  And I would laugh either way.    Jewel than says to me in a tone, where I could almost FEEL my father’s voice in her, “Your dad wants you to know, that he LOVES your hair.”  POW!  Instant waterworks.  I knew it was him!  He was HERE!  With me!  Then for an hour, Jewel recites more and more validating statements.    “Your father wants me to ask you if you think you have enough pistachios in your house?” Jewel says humorously to me.   How would she know that Joseph and I went to a big-box store and bought the largest container of pistachios we ever saw a few days prior?   “Your dad wants me to tell you, nice singing earlier on the treadmill!”  How did SHE know that a) I had a treadmill and b) I was singing Depeche Mode out loud while on it earlier that day in an attempt to make myself feel better? WHOA. 

“Your dad loves it when all of you say “hello” to his picture in front of the trophies at the bottom of the stairs in your parents house.”  MIND BLOWN!!!! There is literally NO WAY that Jewel would know that my family and I did that, let alone know that there is indeed a picture in front of my dad’s golf trophies in my parents basement.  Impossible,  yet however, another true statement from this remarkable woman with an amazing gift. 

 

 The hour passed too quickly.  When it was time for me to leave, I said to Jewel, “Please tell my dad that I love him.” Jewel laughed and said, ” He’s not staying here silly girl!  He’s going with you!”  You can tell him that anytime you wish and he will hear you” Joy washed over me.  My father was with me.  He was safe.  He said it was his time to leave this earth.   He SAW us at the hospital and he knew I was holding his hand to the very end.  Jewel gave me messages for my mother, sisters, etc.  I felt as though a twenty-ton weight had been lifted from my soul.  My father was with us, we just couldn’t see him, but he would let us know that if we kept our eyes and minds open, he would some how show us he was there.  Protecting us.  Still loving us. 

 

I left Jewels house and the whole walk back I felt like I was glowing.  I felt like I was walking on a cloud!  I felt NEW.  Reborn.  Determined to get my life back on track.  I did not feel sad or depressed anymore.  My experience with my new psychic friend was truly a revelation.

 

Over the years following, every member of my family went to see Jewel.  I sent friends to her, acquaintances as well.  Every one of them had the experience they were seeking.   I felt connected.  

 

To this day, I see Jewel at least once a year and all of her readings to me have come true.   Seeing her is like a religion to me now.  As for my father, I speak to him out loud almost on a daily basis, even eight years later and I never plan on stopping.  He is as alive in my heart as he was when I could physically hug him and when that day comes when I see him again, it will be like he never left.  J

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

True story, Any criticism welcome :)