I see uncertainty among my clients, both women and men. Someone will say that they’d like to meet someone and get married, but then they aren’t sure, for whatever reason. They’re not sure they are over their last relationship or not sure they want to change their lifestyle. I tell them, “When you make up your mind, then ask your folks on the other side. But make up your mind first.”
I frequently am hired to do a party or a private group reading. About three years ago, I did one of these in a town not too far from where I live. A woman in the group I was reading for was bemoaning her love life and how her last so-called boyfriend had been a big fat idiot. But she was very sure that she wanted to move on and find love again (no switching from baloney sandwich to salad!), and right away I heard from her folks on the other side, telling her that something much better was coming her way. I heard specifically the name “Mike.” I told her this and I said to her, “Don’t worry—he’s not going to be like that other mamaluke you’re just getting over!” I suggested that she try saying a prayer, making her desires clear to the universe—by which I really mean, making her intentions clear to the folks on the other side. A short time later, she and some of her friends were down at the shore, in Belmar, having a meal at a pizza place called Mamalukes. Who should she meet but a very nice guy named Mike. And…they are now married.
I cannot tell you how often I ask for help from the other side when I can’t find something. In one of my other books, I told the story of how John had lost his keys in a yard full of snow, but I was able to go straight to them once I asked the folks on the other side for directions. This is an area where they really seem to excel!
My brother Harold has constantly been a great dispatcher for me. When all else fails, I always call on him. He’s just amazing. I feel like he is very highly evolved. And he listens. Every time I call him for something—whether it’s to find a piece of paper, locate my keys, or just a blouse I put away last summer that I can’t find—he’s always there and always helps me. I don’t ask for crazy things like the winning lottery numbers. I know better than that. But for simple things I always ask for his help, and he does not let me down.
I was on Facebook a short while ago, and I noticed someone I recognized from “the olden days” of the early 1970s had posted a photo of themselves and another person I also recognized. I was so thrilled to see these two people in the photo because I knew them both, and I was thinking to myself, I know I have a picture, too, from right around that time, and I know where the picture is. I’m going to post it and ask, “Do you remember this?” So I went into the storage space where I keep these old, old photographs from before I was married. The photos were gone. I could not find them. I knew they should be there, because I’d always kept them where I could put my hands on them, but…nada.
I tore the storage space apart. Not only did I tear it apart, I thought I hurt my back—I’d gotten so frantic in my efforts, thinking that the photos were lost or thrown out, or who knows what happened to them. I was practically throwing things up in the air like a cartoon, trying to find those pictures. Poor John was going through his stuff at the other end of the storage area, throwing me looks and trying to get me to calm down while I’m acting like an absolute maniac. Finally I realized: those photos were my baloney sandwich.
I stopped and took a deep breath. Then I said to my dear friend Roy, who is passed away (I’ll say more about him later), and my dear beloved brother Harold, “Please tell me these photos aren’t gone. They mean so much to me. Please help me find them.”
I had someone, years ago, whom I was dating, steal photos from me, so I have experienced that pain of knowing something that is never going to be replaced is gone forever. Photos are like your history; losing them can be really awful. So I said my prayer to Roy and Harold, and it wasn’t more than ten minutes before I had my hands on the photograph album. I was tickled because I had looked in the same spot (or so I’d thought) at least seven times! But there it was, and I was just so thrilled.
Later, after I’d done my post, I went upstairs and was on the phone talking with a girlfriend, while at the same time I was looking in the closet for something else—seems like I’m always looking for something! And, while I was looking in the closet, I suddenly realized there was somebody standing next to me. I literally jumped in alarm because John had gone out and I knew there was nobody in the house but me. I could tell there was “nobody” actually there, but it was a male energy. As I jumped, my girlfriend on the phone said, “What’s the matter?”
I said, “Oh my God. It was my brother. He was just standing right next to me as I’m looking in the closet.”
And my girlfriend said, “Well, maybe he was trying to tell you he was happy he was out of the closet!” We both laughed.
I get such a thrill whenever I see someone else do this trick of asking their deceased loved ones for help. I was at my favorite restaurant in Boonton the other night, Top of the Park, where I run into many folks I know from town and am frequently recognized. Again last night I ran into a woman who reminded me that we’d had a meeting together. She wanted to express to me how grateful she was that I taught her how to look for something when she loses it. She said, “I had a baby’s bracelet that I was saving for my daughter. It was hers when she was a baby and I wanted to give it to her when she had a baby of her own. But I hadn’t looked for it in a long time.” Of course, when she wanted it, she couldn’t put her hand on it. She had no idea where she’d put it. She turned the house upside down and went through every single box, but couldn’t find it. After hours of searching, she was completely discouraged and figured she must, at some point, have given it away and just didn’t remember, or else it was simply lost for good.
Then she remembered to ask the way I had told her: “When you are looking for something you can’t find, call on your mother (who had passed away) and ask her for any help you need.”
She said, “Concetta, I did as you said, and even added, ‘In the name of God, hear my prayer.’ It was not even half an hour later that I found the bracelet. I was so happy. I felt like my mother was standing right there.” I assured her that she was.
Another thing the dead are good at, as I’ve said before, is manipulating electricity, whether they are just letting you know they are there or whether they are doing something helpful. The spirits are made entirely of energy themselves, and anything electrical can be influenced, from lights in the home to smartphones to digital clocks.
A client of mine had lost her father about six months earlier. They’d had a close relationship, but one bone of contention between them was that, even though he was ninety and had had a few incidents of losing consciousness while walking (due to a heart condition, for which he’d gotten a pacemaker), he refused to give up the car keys and stop driving. She and her brother had tried reasoning with him and had even spoken with the local police, who told them nothing could be done; his license was valid and, unless he did something dangerous or unlawful, they could not prohibit him from driving. They were terrified he would have an accident and hurt or kill himself—or somebody else—but he was stubborn. Fortunately, nothing came of their fears before their father passed away, shortly before his ninety-first birthday.
My client’s mother was in a nursing home in another state, and she and her boyfriend went to visit her and take her to lunch for Mother’s Day. When they drove home to New York (more than seven hours of driving round-trip), she was hoping to get a parking spot on her block. There was a spot, but it was at the end of a school lane, and you weren’t really supposed to park there. People who lived on her block commonly did park there since the lane was never used, but her boyfriend didn’t like for her to park there because it wasn’t legal. He warned her that, one of these days, she would get a ticket if she did. But after the long drive, she convinced him to just let her park there overnight, and she would move the car in the morning.
Early the next day, the two
went out for a run. She planned to move the car when they got back and her boyfriend left for work. As they jogged down the block, she said to him, “Man, look at all these great parking spots! I should have brought the key down with me. I hope there’ll be a good one left when we get back.” As they neared her car (a Prius hybrid), parked in the school lane, it suddenly turned on!
Her boyfriend turned to her and said, “Oh, so you did bring the key.”
She said, “No, I didn’t! I didn’t turn on the car. Are you sure that you don’t have the key?” He said that no, he didn’t; he actually thought she was joking with him and that she really had the key, but she turned her pockets inside out to show him she did not. Nevertheless, the car was on, so he got in and re-parked it before they went for their run.
She couldn’t get over what had just happened. She’d had the car for several years, and nothing like that had ever happened before. She googled it to see if this was common with the half-electric car and found only one other person describing her car spontaneously turning on, and in the comments thread everyone said this shouldn’t happen—one person even said they thought her post was just a prank. Then one other thought came to mind, and she called me to tell me what had occurred. She said, “Concetta, it was just uncanny. I was just saying it was too bad I hadn’t brought my key with me and then—right then—my car turned itself on. I was always arguing with my dad about the car keys. Do you think…?”
I said, “Without a doubt! You can thank your father for helping you out, moving your car.”
Sometimes the only help we really need from the other side is to be comforted. I recall having a terrible dream that I was on a ship and it was storming and there were huge waves coming up over the portholes. I was terrified that the ship would capsize and I would drown. (Even being a Jersey Girl and loving the beach, I’ve always had a fear of drowning, which I believe must come from a past life.) I suffer from anxiety and so was getting really panic-stricken, my heart beating so fast. But in my dream, I heard my father whisper to me. He was saying very gently and calmly, “You’re not on the boat. You’re not on the boat.” Hearing his voice, I became conscious that I was dreaming and I was not in danger. I was safe. It was just a dream.
I had a woman come for a reading who wanted to hear from her mother. Her mother came through with many wonderful messages, telling my client about her own life and her past. One of the things she told her about was from when she was a little girl at her grandmother’s house in a rural, farm-like area. The grandmother used to bring a wicker basket of laundry to the backyard, and the little girl used to help her grandmother and mother hang the clothes on the line to dry. It was sweet for her to remember this. Then, when I was doing the reading, her mother also said, “Thank you for the roses.” My client told me how her mother had always loved roses, and she and other family members had known that to bring her roses when they visited would make her happy. But then her mother said, “I sent the rose.” The woman at first wasn’t sure what she meant by this, but after the reading was over I could see on her face that she’d had a realization. She proceeded to tell me that when her grandson was sick and in the hospital, they were having trouble diagnosing exactly what was wrong with him. The family was in a panic because, whatever it was, he seemed to be getting worse. She’d called upon her mother and asked her to please help the boy. The next time she went back to the hospital to visit the boy, she saw that they were getting ready to release him. He was well, and they never did figure out what was wrong with him. When she’d gone into the boy’s room, she’d been delighted to see that he had recovered. On the table at the side of the bed, she saw one red rose.
She’d asked the boy, “Who gave you the rose?” He didn’t know, and nobody else seemed to know where the flower had come from. Now the mystery was solved!
Here is a story that I really love because it happened to someone very dear to me. When my friend got married, she was all in to be part of her husband’s family. And all through her marriage she and her mother-in-law got along really well. They liked and respected each other and simply had a great relationship. But where her mother-in-law was sweet and kind to her, her father-in-law for some reason treated her like an outsider. He never had a kind word for her, no matter what she did, and showed no appreciation for anything she contributed, whether it was a cooked meal for the family or a gift. It was just horrible for my friend, who only wanted harmony.
Then, sadly, her mother-in-law, whom she dearly loved, passed away.
But once she was over there on the other side, it seemed her mother-in-law could not wait to set things right! In a reading I did for my friend and her husband, his mother came through loud and clear and told the two she was sad about the poor treatment my friend was receiving. So both she and her husband knew without doubt how his mother felt. Still, they never said anything to his father, probably considering it a lost cause.
But the strange thing was, even though he never said a word to confirm this, she and her husband believe that the mother-in-law was also talking to her husband! Little by little, his attitude seemed to completely change toward his daughter-in-law. He began treating her like a real daughter for the first time ever. He began to give her little gifts, such as jewelry and little objects that his wife had once owned and adored, telling her, “I know she would want you to have this.” I jokingly remarked that I thought he might have been visited by a Ghost of Christmas Past!
By the time he himself passed away, the two of them were very close and very friendly. The change was utterly amazing. We couldn’t help but believe that it was all due to his wife’s spirit coming to him in defense of the daughter-in-law she loved, telling him he had better shape up and change his ways!
I love this story—in this case the other side did not just give a small assist but, I believe, changed many lives by giving someone much-needed advice and perspective.
A young man came to me at my office. He had been raised by an abusive father, and, to my surprise, this is whom he asked to hear from. The father did come through, and over and over he expressed to this young man how he wished he had done better, made better choices. He said that the strongest regret of his life was how he acted as a father. He mentioned a few specific things, mistakes he had made, which this young man recognized and confirmed. Then I said to him, “Your father is giving you suggestions on how to be a good father. He’s suggesting that even if you are helping out with your brother’s kids, you can still be a good role model. Even if you are working with other kids who are not your own, you can be a father figure that kids can look up to.”
I knew nothing of this man or why his father would be dispensing this advice. (I assumed it was because he didn’t want his son to repeat mistakes he had made.) My client certainly looked old enough that he could have kids of his own, but he never said anything to me, other than telling me that he was connecting with his father’s words. He later got back to me to tell me more of the story. He said that he was married to a woman who had a little boy from a previous relationship, and that she had told him she did not want more children. He was feeling resentful about that because he would never have a child that was his own blood. He told me that he understood his father was telling him those things because, due to his resentment, he was not being nice to his little stepson. He ended up telling me that hearing from his dad had changed his life. He grasped that he had an opportunity to be different from the way his father had been toward him, and an opportunity to make a difference in a positive way in this child’s life. He told me that, after hearing from his father, he decided, “I’m going to choose to be a better male role model in this little boy’s life.” And, he said, his efforts were recognized and appreciated almost immediately by this little boy. He wanted to thank me and say how grateful he was. I was delighted to hear his story, but he really was thanking his own father. And I like to think that this young man broke what could have been a disastrous chain, perpetuating the
abuse he himself experienced, had he not been able to hear his dad and choose more wisely.
Earlier I spoke about a handful of times when I was protected by the other side giving me a warning about a person or a place I did not belong. This happens more often than you might realize, and you don’t have to be psychic to get this kind of warning. Everyone, to at least some degree, has the sixth sense, the ability to physically or mentally sense things that they “can’t really see” or “can’t really know.” Pretty much everyone, for example, has had the experience of feeling someone’s eyes on them. You’ve had this experience, right? Of course you can’t literally feel somebody’s eyes on your body, but you can sense—with certainty—that someone is looking at you, even if they are behind your back. Or you have had a queasy sensation in your stomach that immediately makes you think that something is off, that a person is unsafe or maybe unethical, or will in some way be bad for you. These are feelings that you need to pay close attention to, as they are literally the other side giving you an alert.
Often, when we have one of these uncanny feelings, we might later say to a friend, “Something just told me” that it wasn’t safe to go in there, or not to trust that person. Well, guess what? It isn’t something that told you, it was someone.
I haven’t talked a lot about this, since mostly in my books I’m giving shout-outs to the dead guys, but even more powerful than the spirits, and like a big spiritual blanket that offers us warmth and comfort, is the Holy Spirit itself.
My stepdaughter Jessica’s daughter Isabella needs to have surgery for scoliosis. Jessica is a nervous wreck, and really all of us have been very, very worried about her. We’ve been going through the usual rounds of seeing doctors for the past few months and getting all the opinions. Her scoliosis is one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen. I’ve told Jessica to say some prayers and always remember to say, “In the name of God, hear my prayer.”
I Kissed a Ghost (and I Liked It) Page 10
