“We don’t want to ‘banish’ him. We want him to know Mom’s okay, and he’s okay to cross over and find peace,” Matthew explains, his voice filled with a mix of hope and concern. “It’s been six months.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I offer sincerely, but my eyes are on David as I say it. I’ve always believed that the one we should truly be sorry for is the person who has lost it all. Their loved ones and their life. “Soul bonds are a real thing. There are connections that are stronger than life and death,” I continue, my gaze shifting back to Matthew and Charlotte. “And it seems that you have such a bond with your husband. Which is a beautiful thing. We just have to make it work so it’s not hurting both of you.”
“And how can we do that? I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t just leave her here alone. It doesn’t feel right,” David expresses his concern.
“You can still visit if you cross over, David. There is nothing holding you back from watching over her from the afterlife,” I reassure him.
David looks at my Nan, seeking confirmation. She smiles at him and nods. “It is true, your soul will be at peace, but you will never lose sight of them and can choose to visit.”
“Maybe we should just figure out some visiting hours,” I suggest, shrugging.
Both Charlotte and Matthew look at me—Charlotte with wide eyes and Matthew with a scrunched-up face. “Does she even take this seriously?” he asks my Nan.
“I take it very seriously since your mother hasn’t slept for months,” I reply firmly. “David, can we agree on a time when you can come and visit that does not affect Charlotte so much?”
David chuckles, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “And how do you think this should work, kid? It’s not exactly like there is still a feeling of time, and I don’t think there will be a watch I could look at in the afterlife.”
“How about your wife gives you a signal? You’ll watch her anyway, so you’ll know when she wishes for your presence,” I suggest, looking at David.
“What kind of signal?” Charlotte asks me, leaning in with interest. Her tears are still flowing, but she’s not actively crying anymore.
“I don’t know, maybe lighting a candle for him? It will take some time to figure it out, but I’m sure this could be established,” I explain. “You already told me you can feel him when he’s there. So you will know if it works, and if it is time for bed, you could end the visit with a hug. You just turn the ‘never starting a day without a hug’ into ‘never going to sleep without a hug’ until you’re reunited.”
Charlotte leans back before her lip trembles, and she starts crying once more. The weight of her emotions hangs heavy in the room.
That’s the thing I hate most about readings.
All the crying.
As if I wouldn’t cry enough myself.
Nan says a good medium has to stay neutral during a reading, that we have to close ourselves off from the emotions to be present, to be a good voice for the souls. But ghosts project their feelings onto us when they are close, and I’m always struggling not to cry with their loved ones anyway.
“That’s a very good idea, kid. Thank you, I’m going to try.” David smiles sadly at me, reaching out to hold Charlotte’s hand on the table.
She looks down at her hand, then over to the empty stool, and back at me. I nod, giving her a reassuring smile, eventhough my own eyes are starting to water. “He thinks it’s worth a try.”
Charlottenods frantically, brushing away some tears with the back of her hand. “I think so too.”
“He’s only a whisper away, dear,” Nan soothes, reaching out to pat her arm.
A breeze whispersthrough the window I propped open, rousing me from my nap. I blink my eyes open, greeted by the warm golden sun dipping lower in the sky. It seems I’ve slept for a few hours, and once again, memories haunted my sleep.
I don’t know if it is because the anniversary of Nan’s death was yesterday, but for the last few days, I’ve been thinking and dreaming about a lot of our life together.
Of how it was before I was all alone.
I think of how she raised me, showed me how to use my gift, and used it to connect with those who had passed, guiding them toward the light and comforting those they left behind.
Pushing the covers off, I sit on the edge of my bed, the last remnants of sleep clinging stubbornly to my consciousness. The memories are vivid, almost as if Nan’s spirit is lingering. But I know it’s not. She stepped into the light, and no matter how many times I’ve whispered and begged her to guide me or to just visit me, she has never come.
The space is filled with the soft hum of the radio. It’s calm and peaceful. For a moment, I let myself bask in it before getting up and going to the window. The breeze still plays with the edges of the curtains as I close it gently.
The weather has become overcast in the few hours since I left those guys’ home, but it doesn’t change the beautiful view. Maybe it’s the place, but the connection I feel with her is stronger here.
Or maybe I’m just imagining things. You tend to overthink stuff when you have only your thoughts to keep you company.
I think about Saylor’s offer to be friends.
