Now that spring is here and the air is scented with the aromas of lavender and roses, I like to schedule my sessions so I can take a break here and there to walk through the neighbourhood. What a wonderful way to clear my head. I’m not a sun worshipper – in fact, my fair skin burns too easily – but I do enjoy the feel of the breeze in my hair. There’s an elementary school nearby; sometimes, I hear the manic sounds of kidlets blowing off energy during recess. And as I meander down tree-lined streets, I occasionally glance at a house, as if there’s some connection between me and that house, or someone living there. And for a moment, I stop and wonder…

Recently I welcomed Renee, an elegant, middle-aged lady, into my office. She took off her deep purple scarf, revealing a thick head of dark hair tinted with silvery highlights. She smiled as she introduced herself, then gestured to her adult son, standing behind her.

“Can Bruce—” She stopped, flustered. “I mean Ted—”

The young man narrowed his eyes and stared at his mother.

“Ted,” she repeated with a shake of her head. She mumbled to herself, “I don’t know why I said that.” Then she turned to me. “Can he sit in on my session?”

“I’d rather not do that, because different people bring different spirits into the room with them,” I replied. “But if two people share someone who passed into spirit, then I’m happy to bring both people into my reading room.”

Ted acted like my reading room was the last place he wanted to enter, yet he dutifully followed his mother and sat beside her. He scanned each wall as if there were hidden messages in the pictures hanging there, then sat back in his chair and fixed his eyes on me. I nodded at him, then closed my eyes and began to centre myself. I asked my guides to allow me to help this woman this woman and her son.

Instantly, I felt a strong connection to a male energy and in my mind, I asked him to talk to me. “Was his name Bruce?” I asked. “He’s trying to get a message to me that he’s Bruce.”

Renee nodded.

“I’m getting the sense that he was a strong man. He’s making me feel strapping in my chest. Was he a personal trainer?”

“Yes,” Renee said, quiet as a sigh. “That was my son. Ted’s twin.”

“Bruce is telling me his head hurts. A blood vessel burst in his brain. It was totally unexpected. It happened in the gym. There was nothing anyone could do…”

“Yes,” Renee answered after each bit of evidence I brought through. I described her son in spirit as an amateur boxer and budding entrepreneur who was looking into buying into a fitness centre in Scarborough. He came through with several messages for his mother and when he mentioned Ted, the young man’s ears pricked up.

“Bruce is showing me a bowling ball,” I said.

Ted smiled sheepishly. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I haven’t felt much like doing that since he died. Sometimes he’d go to the bowling alley with me and shoot pool while I played in my league.”

At the end of the session, I clicked the tape player off, yet felt compelled to stay and chat for a few minutes with Renee to comfort her. Being a mother myself, I could only imagine how difficult it must be to lose a child.

“I don’t know why I called Ted by his brother’s name,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “I’ve never done that.”

“I think that was his way of letting you know he was here,” I said. “His presence was very strong.” In fact, I could see him in my mind’s eye so clearly, I could’ve described him down to the buttons on his flannel shirt.

As Renee and Ted rose to go, she said, “I’ve never been to a medium before. But one of the reasons I felt comfortable about making an appointment with you is I saw that your office was located two streets away from where Bruce lived. He always told me how much he liked living in this area. Everyone is so friendly.”

I felt a chill as I walked my clients to the door, then watched them get into their car. I gazed up and down my street. I felt Bruce’s presence still with me. He had lived in my neighbourhood. I might’ve seen him working out in the GoodLife on the next block. My cart might’ve passed his in the grocery store. Could I have said hello to him while out for one of my walks?

Farther down the street, a portly fellow in a Jays t-shirt was mowing his lawn. He stopped for a moment to chat with a young woman and her daughter, who was walking a beagle. The dog sniffed the man’s ankle, then sniffed around the grass as if it was hoping to find a bone. I didn’t know the woman and her daughter, but the man had helped me shovel my driveway a few winters back. I decided to walk over and say hi to them. It’s important to appreciate your neighbours. Bruce would’ve liked that.

If you have any questions or comments on this subject or on any other spiritual matter, feel free to write me at mail @ carolynmolnar.com . And please visit me again!


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