The Eagle and the Rose (14 page)

G & M:
(Laughing) That's absolutely right.

R:
He is a very emotional man, and it is sometimes hard to hear what he is saying. “Tell her she is the best wife and mother. Tell her I love her.”

M:
(Also emotional) I'll tell her.

R:
Your father is talking about a new venture and (I know M's mother is an author) says there is a new contract signed. Do you understand?

M:
Yes, totally.

R:
Your father says, “This one will be even better than the last.”

M:
Good, I hope he's right.

There were so many other things that M's father talked about, too much to recount here and many, many personal details. We finished the sitting in this way.

R:
I can hear your mother quite clearly (This to G). She is giving me the name of Patti.

G:
That's my sister, Patricia.

R:
Your mother is calling out, “Tell her happy birthday, happy birthday.”

G:
Oh, yes, my sister just had her birthday.

R:
Your mother says, “Our greatest of God's gifts is our children. They are precious to us. Send them my love.” Then … “That gift is not taken from us when we die. We still see you. We surround you with our love.”

She talks about your ear. That you have had a problem with your ear. (This, a question from me)

G:
Yes, I have always had problems with my ear, since I was small.

R:
Your mother says she will send you healing. (Pause) Now M, I hear your father again. (He then describes, in detail, the areas and building in which he began his first business)

M:
Incredible. That's so right.

R:
(Again, as always, I check with Grey Eagle, who confirms I should continue) Your father talks of the company and of your plans to expand. (Do you understand what he means?)

M:
Absolutely.

R:
(Much advice given here) Then … “It will expand and do well. I will be watching.”

Now he talks in rhyme (this is symbolic); tell me if I confuse you.

R:
And then the wolf tried again. The house did not blow down but shook a little.

M:
It surely did.

R:
You looked around and saw some cracks in the walls of the house, and then began streamlining. This had to be done, your father says, and must continue.

M:
I understand.

R:
(Much more is said now about the company) Then … “I know of the plans … don't worry, everything will work out fine. There will then be more expansion.” (He elaborates)

M:
That is correct. I understand fully.

(Again much more is said. M's father talks of G & M's children, giving many personal details of their lives. Everything is understood.)

R:
Now, M, your father would like to give you a special message (he says). To walk in God's way is to walk hand in hand towards that light which you know is there, and that light is representative of goodness and of truth, and of love. He shakes his head, and he tells me that you need no teaching, for you have been walking this way for a long time. He tells me you are good people. Genuinely, and from the heart, live your life to the full and have no regrets. For you need have no regrets.

As I am talking to you, M, he has moved around behind you and he puts his arms around your shoulders. His head is very close to yours, and, as in the old days, he says, he gives you a hug.

G, your mother is holding you and stroking your face (I see all of this). They are all crying, but your father, M, is very quick to point out that these are tears of joy. Joy in a coming together and of an understanding that we don't die.

“Never be afraid of this” (dying), he says to tell you. “Your apprehensions were unfounded. Never be afraid that you will lose me, for I will always be with you.” Then (with a twinkle in his eye), “I will be with you at the game tonight” (football). “I can't promise anything” (he laughs) “but” (pointing to Grey Eagle) “maybe he can.”

(Much laughter here from all of us.)

R:
He (M's father) continues. “Be thankful for the love, the joy, and for the light. It is yours and we share it with you

“I love you, M,” I hear him call this clearly. I hear him call, “Be strong, and know that I am with you always.”

This consultation with M and G lasted for just over an hour and a half, and there were, as in most of my sessions with those in the spirit world, many, many incredible details. Sometimes such trivial and seemingly unimportant facts, but many of a much more profound nature— all, however, designed in one way or another to show that even after death we are still involved, as much as we want to be, with those we have left behind.

R:
I am aware of a young man standing very close to you. He is in his early twenties. He tells me that his death was very sudden, very quick. He was a baby, just a few months old.

Rita:
(Crying) I lost my son. He was four months old.

R:
He says he could not breathe. A cot death, I think. There was some confusion as to why it happened.

Rita:
Yes, that's right. It was a cot death.

R:
I see the initial C.

Rita:
His name is Christopher.

R:
I hear Christopher say, “This is my mother.”

Rita:
(Now crying again) Is he okay? Is he happy?

R:
He is very eager to talk to you. To let you know that he is around you and that he has survived death.

Rita:
I know he is often with me. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him.

R:
I have asked him to give us, if he can, some more details, either about himself or about you. I hear the name Alan. Is there someone with that name?

Rita:
My husband's name is Alan. Christopher's father.

R:
Your son is talking to me about flowers. Yellow flowers. Some real, some silk?

Rita:
(nodding and smiling) Yes, yes. I understand.

R:
Then he shows me what looks like a romper suit. A baby's romper suit. Yellow. I also am being shown a small soft toy. I think it's a rabbit. No … wait… now I see the romper suit again, and stitched on the suit is a rabbit. The suit is yellow. Does this mean anything to you?

Rita:
Christopher is describing the little romper suit he was buried in. It had a rabbit stitched on the front. We had yellow flowers on his coffin, and every year, on his birthday, when I visit his grave I take yellow flowers for him.

R:
“Tell her I see her,” Christopher says, then … Christopher is showing me a photograph in a silver frame. I can see this photograph standing on some kind of dresser. Next to it, in a vase, I see yellow flowers. Christopher tells me the flowers are silk. “They are new,” he says. “They are new.”

Rita:
Oh, Rosemary, he really can see, can't he? I bought the flowers only a few months ago. They are in a vase next to his baby photograph.

R:
Christopher would like me to tell you that he has grown, and is a man now. That he visits you and Dad often. He talks of “his” drawer. And he is describing to me how you often sit on the bed, he says, open “his” drawer, and take “his” things out to look at them. He tells me how you cry so much because you have lost him.

Rita:
Does he see me? Really?

R:
In the drawer, Christopher's drawer, there are his baby clothes, wrapped, he tells me, in polythene.

Rita:
Yes, that's right.

R:
Also there is a bag full of cards. I think from what Christopher is saying that they are christening cards. (He then describes many other things in the drawer.)

Rita:
(Crying and laughing at the same time) He really can see me. He really is there. Oh, Rosemary, this is amazing, wonderful.

R:
(Smiling gently) Your son wants you to know that he did not die. He wants you to know that he has grown, that he is happy, and that one day you and his father will see him again.

Rita:
Rosemary, I don't know what to say. Thank you. Thank you. I don't know what to say. (Crying now)

R:
I am just pleased that your son was able to get through to you. He has waited for such a long time. I see him, and can hear him clearly. He would like to give you just one more message.

Rita:
Oh, yes! Oh, please.

R:
“I love you, Mum.” I hear him say this clearly. He says again, “I love you, Mum. I am always with you. Tell my dad I didn't die. No more tears. Tell him that I am alive.”

I had met Rita while visiting a patient, Mark, whose story is also in this book. She was one of Mark's nurses, and although I had seen her there previously, this was the first opportunity that Rita had to ask me about healing.

It was as she began to ask me questions about my work that I saw him. He had been waiting for his opportunity, knowing that if I could, I would help him.

I knew that it was no coincidence that she, the nurse, was there. I knew too that he had planned it this way.

Twenty-two years is a long time to wait for a son to finally be able to talk to his mother. And for me, it was a privilege to be able to say to the nurse, “Rita, your son Christopher is truly alive, and is with you always.”

She had already made an appointment for herself and her husband to see me and was calling now to see if I could change it to a different day. I was about to say no, but something in her voice caught my attention.

“It seems impossible that day,” I said. “Is there a special reason?”

“Yes,” she said, sobbing. “It is my son's birthday.”

“Well then,” I said as gently as I could, “we had better find the time. You will have to come later in the day, but if you can manage that, then I'll see you both.”

Now it was June 21. The couple seated opposite me, in their mid-thirties, waited anxiously for me to begin. I do not remember their names. It is only their story that I recall.

R:
(Beginning the sitting very quickly) I have a young boy wishing to communicate. Small, with dark hair. A little shy. I hope he is going to talk to me. (I ask him to tell me who he is.) “I'm Robert.” (I hear him.) “I'm sith today.” (I laugh, knowing that he means that he is six today.) “It's my birthday.”

She:
(Crying) Yes, his name is Robert, and he is six today.

He:
(Anxiously) Is he all right?

R:
Please, don't ask questions, not yet. I want Robert to talk to me. (Now I ask Robert, if he can, to tell me how he died. Gently and with great patience, I encourage him to talk to me.) “I was on my bike [I say this to his parents], and a car came fast round the corner and skidded into me. My head hurt, but only for a little bit, then I came here.”

They:
Yes, that's right, that's how he died.

R:
Robert says, “They keep crying, and it makes me cry, too.”

She:
Oh, no, please, we don't want him to cry.

R:
(Very gently) Don't worry, he doesn't cry all the time. But he misses you, too, you know. (Then, laughing) “It's my birthday, I'm sith.”

They:
Yes, that's right.

R:
(As I work I see Grey Eagle standing close to the child, helping, encouraging him to talk to me—I continue, relaying the boy's messages.) He tells me that he was just four years old when he passed. Is that correct?

They:
Yes. He was out playing, just outside the house. Quite safe. A car came around the corner too fast, hit the curb and bounced up onto the footpath. Robert was killed instantly.

R:
He talks to me now about his brother and sister.

She:
Yes, that's correct. We have two other children.

R:
Robert tells me you are having a small birthday party today. He is quite excited. He tells me you have made him a birthday cake. I have asked him if there are any candles on the cake. He nods and I see him clearly. He is holding up six fingers.

She:
(Crying) My baby has seen his cake. (Turns to husband, who is also crying) This is wonderful. I can't believe it.

The sitting continued, with Grey Eagle helping Robert to communicate. It lasted a long time, and Robert talked to his parents of many things. Because the accounts of his accident, birthday party, and many other things were so accurate, his parents were convinced, as I was, of Robert's survival after death. They will continue to celebrate his birthday, but now, even though there will always be sorrow, there will be joy in their knowing that he is still a part of them, still a part of their lives, growing happier and content, assured that they know he is alive.

I had visited Hong Kong many times and had many clients in the Far East. One of these was a lovely lady named Celia. It was on one of these visits that Celia and her husband, Bruce, came to see me for a consultation and many family members came through from the spirit world to talk to them. Bruce's grandmother was a particularly strong communicator, and through her they were given a profound and moving message that they were not to understand for some time—a message that helped them greatly when tragedy struck their lives.

Some twelve months passed, and I was back in England. The telephone rang one Sunday morning, and it was Celia.

C:
Rosemary, is that you?

R:
Yes, who is this, please?

C:
(Calmly) You probably don't remember me. I know that you see and talk to so many people. (She then explains who she is.)