After Life_ Answers From The Other Side Part 7

"I called up and asked the guy who answered, 'What happened down there last night?' and he said, 'Oh, the cops were telling us we couldn't dig.'" As it turns out, the night of the seminar was a very tense, violent night down at Ground Zero. The firemen had been digging nonstop to find people in the rubble, including their comrades, and wanted to continue, "but the police were hara.s.sing them and rough-housing them," the firefighter on the phone said.

After Nancy hung up, she realized that the name of the firefighter she'd just been speaking to was connected to the message. This fire-fighter, who was a buddy of Michael's, was in the famous photo that appeared in the media all over the world-the picture of three fire-fighters hoisting a flag up at the disaster site. His name is Danny-the "DN" connected to the message in the reading. The final mystery, when Michael said that Nancy would receive what was "connected" to her, was solved a few weeks later. Michael's body was recovered from the disaster site and returned home for a hero's burial.

"When I went home after the reading," Nancy remembered, "I felt such peace. Michael and I had so much together, and something like that just doesn't go away. Even now, I still feel very connected to him. Since the reading, I talk to him constantly. I don't know why September 11th happened . . . I guess I'll know when I get to the Other Side myself. Maybe I have my own life lessons to learn. And sometimes I wonder . . . if 2,000 people were going to die at once, maybe G.o.d needed four hundred good firefighters up there to help them all with the transition. Firefighters are such good people, such helpful souls, who only want to help others. That's the kind of man my husband was-and is is. I know he's out there and listening to me, and I know this because of the reading."

Michael Carroll was one of the first firefighters to come through to me so soon after September 11, and it was a very emotional night for me, for Nancy, and for everybody in the room. I still remember how brave and proud Nancy was as she sat up straight in the chair, taking in the information and validating it with such pride and love for her hero husband.

When the seminar was over, Nancy approached me up front and gave me her husband's ma.s.s card-which had his picture on it for remembrance.

Then, as further validation to me that Michael was still around, two days later I was given another token of this firefighter's bravery. At another, separate seminar, a young man approached me who had heard about the September 11-related readings I'd been doing and wanted to say a general thank you from all the families I was helping. As a gift, he handed me a T-s.h.i.+rt that was made in honor of the fire-fighters. At that time, the firehouses were making up s.h.i.+rts with individual names of their brothers and sisters they'd lost on the back. This man handed me a navy blue T-s.h.i.+rt with a firefighter emblem on it, and as he did, I felt a twinge of familiarity.

As soon as I got home, I raced to my desk to check the name on the Ma.s.s card Nancy had given me with the name on the s.h.i.+rt. Sure enough, it was the same name. On the back of the T-s.h.i.+rt were the words in bold: In Loving Memory of Michael T Caroll In Loving Memory of Michael T Caroll [sic]. It was yet another h.e.l.lo from Michael, who was now rescuing and helping others on the Other Side on a grand scale. [sic]. It was yet another h.e.l.lo from Michael, who was now rescuing and helping others on the Other Side on a grand scale.

To this day, I keep that Ma.s.s card and the T-s.h.i.+rt at home-the card is on my work desk, and the s.h.i.+rt is carefully folded in my "special" drawer of items that have great meaning to me. Each time I sit at my desk, I see the card, and I think of Michael and Nancy and their ongoing love that transcends the boundaries of the human body.

My link with Nancy and the Other Side continues. Last May, Nancy was roaming through a bookstore and saw the new paperback version of Crossing Over Crossing Over: The Stories Behind the Stories The Stories Behind the Stories, on the bookshelf with the added 9/11 chapter. "I bought it and took it home and leafed through it, wondering if my reading was mentioned," Nancy said. She fell asleep a bit disappointed, with the book on her lap, open to the 9/11 chapter. Her reading wasn't in there. The very next day, she got a telephone call from Natasha-who'd been trying to track her down for weeks-asking if she'd be a part of this book, After Life After Life. "I couldn't believe it!" Nancy exclaimed.

Looking back, the link between Nancy and the man who gave me the T-s.h.i.+rt may have surprised me then, but doesn't now. In the two years since the terrorist attacks, I've witnessed a sort of spiritual phenomenon I've never seen before-a banding together of families linked to 9/11 on the Other Side. During my group readings in the New York-New Jersey area and my many tapings of Crossing Over Crossing Over, anytime there's someone in the room who suffered a loss due to 9/11, their loved one who comes through for them will then bring through other 9/11 losses. Even if these people who died didn't know each other at all in life, their mutual bond in how they pa.s.sed is so intense that they act as "family" and link up to help each other.

I've done a number of seminars and groups where for the first two hours only 9/11 energies have come through. It kind of feels like they take me hostage and won't let me go. Once one of them gets my attention, they form a chain of sorts and bring in the rest of their 9/11 "family" to dominate the group. Now bear in mind, this phenomenon doesn't happen all the time. So if you're sitting in a seminar where all these 9/11 families are showing up left and right and your loved one who also pa.s.sed in 9/11 doesn't come through, please don't be upset. Although I see it happen often, the 9/11 factor isn't a given at every event. It doesn't mean your loved one isn't okay or doesn't want to talk to you. It just means I cannot, as always, get to every person and each energy that wants to make a connection.

After many months of experiencing this banding together of souls, I had to admire their tenacity. And because this exclusive "family" pushes everyone else's family aside and holds me hostage, I began calling them a nickname-"The 9/11 Factor." And if anyone out there is offended by this nickname, please know that I use the phrase with humor, and with that humor is respect and a bit of awe. And make no mistake-that's how the other energies on the Other Side feel about The 9/11 Factor, too. Because as they strong-arm their way and cut to the front of the line, the families on the Other Side who are not not 9/11-related dutifully bow their heads and stand aside. 9/11-related dutifully bow their heads and stand aside.

LAST D DECEMBER 2002, I conducted several group readings in New York overrun by this 9/11 tag team. I didn't know it at the time, but in one group in Secaucus, New Jersey, Nancy Carroll had returned and was sitting in the back. With her, she had brought along some extended members of her new 9/11 family-other women who had also lost their husbands at the World Trade Center. These five women had been strangers to one another one year earlier. They met in a 9/11 support group in New Jersey and had since become friends. 2002, I conducted several group readings in New York overrun by this 9/11 tag team. I didn't know it at the time, but in one group in Secaucus, New Jersey, Nancy Carroll had returned and was sitting in the back. With her, she had brought along some extended members of her new 9/11 family-other women who had also lost their husbands at the World Trade Center. These five women had been strangers to one another one year earlier. They met in a 9/11 support group in New Jersey and had since become friends.

Nancy had told the group about her first reading when Michael came through with flying colors, but the women were very skeptical, to say the least. Here's an example of how the 9/11 family on the Other Side pa.s.ses the baton from member to member. In this case, it was a situation involving five husbands, all on the same team, trying to get hold of the ball and shoot. They were coming through to me so fast that I could barely keep up and match the husbands to the corresponding wives. The wives, too, were getting confused.

John: I have an older female who pa.s.ses from cancer. Helen, Ellen, Eileen. And there's a March connection. Someone's coming through claiming to be a mother figure, and there's a connection to March.Woman #1: I have a birthday in March . . . my husband has an Aunt Helen.John: Your husband has pa.s.sed, right?Woman #1: Yes.John: Did you lose someone on 9/11?Woman #1: Yes.John: Helen is telling me . . . wait . . . .

I then felt the pull move to two other women sitting nearby. It switched gears and pointed to them . . .

John: Wait . . . you two also lost someone on 9/11?Woman #2 and Woman #3 (together): Yes. (together): Yes.John: Where's the Michael?Woman #2: My son.Woman #3: . . . and my husband.John: There is an "A" connection. And someone's birthday is coming up in January.Woman #2: Yes.John (pointing to Woman #3): You have two kids? (pointing to Woman #3): You have two kids?Woman #3: Yes.John: Who has the ongoing heart problem?Woman #2: My dad.John: Your husband is saying he has to watch it . . .

I felt a new energy try to get my attention. To a fourth woman sitting with them, I posed a question.

John: Did you lose a husband on 9/11, too?Woman #4: Yes.John: I'm bringing through someone connected to the number six.Woman #4: My son is connected to a six.John: Does someone have a Steve?Woman #4: I'm connected to a Steve.John: Is he a smarta.s.s? If he was here, would he be making jokes about all of this?Woman #4: Oh, yeah.John: I have to acknowledge that someone wrote his name in cement.Woman #4: Yes, we did.John: I also have to acknowledge you have his chain.Woman #4: Yes . . . I do.John: Does he have a major connection to the name Britney? I'm seeing Britney Spears. Or does he have a huge affinity with Britney Spears.Woman #4: My daughter loves Britney. She's going to the Jingle Ball tomorrow night.John: I wouldn't be surprised if Britney shows up there.

Again, I felt a new energy joining the team on the Other Side and was pulled to yet another woman in the group here on this side.

John: Where's the Chris [pointing to Woman #5]? Are you connected to the Chris?Woman #5: My husband is Chris.John: He's making me feel like I need to talk about your clothes. Did you just go on a spending spree? Did you change sizes? He's making me feel like your skirt doesn't fit you anymore.Woman #5: I'm three sizes smaller now.John: He says two days before September 11th, you had a very special day.Woman #5: Yes, it was our anniversary.John: He says he'll never forget it.

Once again, I felt another new energy arrive on the scene. . . .

John: Where's John?Woman #6: My husband is John.John: He's apologizing for the mortgage. What does that mean?Woman #6: We moved just two months before he pa.s.sed.John: Is he the one who would pick you up and throw you over his shoulder?Woman #6: Every night, he did that with my little one.John: Do all these guys know each other?All the women in unison: No.John: Were you all taking bets before you got here as to which husband would come through tonight?All women in unison: Yes . . . we were!

The reading continued in this way, bouncing around from wife to wife, with each woman getting a snippet of information before a new husband b.u.t.ted in. At one point, it felt like that scene in the movie Ghost Ghost, when Whoopi Goldberg was surrounded by a crowd of spirits all trying to talk to their relatives at the same time. If I didn't know better, I would have guessed that all these husbands coming through were brothers because of the kins.h.i.+p feeling I was getting attached to them, and because they kept bringing through each new energy like they were introducing a new family member into the equation. But while the husbands were working hard to get through to their wives, not all of the women were appreciative of their efforts. At one point, one wife who had gotten a few details during the reading put up her hand.

"When are you going to say something specific?" she demanded. "When are you going to say something that will make me, or any of us, know this is for real? I mean . . . do you all believe this?"

There was a hush in the room. At that moment, part of me wanted to grab this woman by the collar and slap her silly. I was working my a.s.s off trying to reunite her with her family, and I knew that the energies were working their a.s.ses off, too. And through it all, she sits there wearing "The Face" (what I call the arms crossed/mouth-pinched look that skeptics sometimes give me), making me feel that she was insulting the process.

I must admit that I'm intolerant of this type of behavior. I don't believe that the loss of a loved one gives someone the right to be mean or to make demands, especially of someone who's trying to help. If you ever find yourself in a situation where you're las.h.i.+ng out at people because you're suffering a loss, take a moment to think about what you're doing. Maybe the people you're las.h.i.+ng out at are those closest to you, and those who are trying to help you deal with the tragedy or loss.

Initially, I reacted to her question out of ego. "I know you must be kidding! I thought that's what I I thought that's what I was was doing." doing."

She just shook her head and folded her arms as the rest of the room stared at her in disbelief. I'm not going to identify which woman this was, but I will say that she had several validations throughout the reading that were accurate and specific.

Nancy Carroll, who had come with the woman, acknowledged these validations: "She was getting some good information that I knew was right, but she still wasn't buying it," Nancy said. "Then I realized that maybe these women didn't have the background I had. I had read your books and watched Crossing Over Crossing Over, and I knew how it all worked, so when the information started flying at me like that, I could decipher it. These women walked in with certain expectations. They were like, 'I want John to come through with my nickname,' but it doesn't work that way." During a break in the seminar, Nancy came up to me and apologized for her friend's behavior.

"You've got to tell your friends that they can't be like this when the energies come across," I said. "Because if they are, the energies will never come through again." And it's true. If these energies are not "welcomed" or think we're taking their attempts to make contact as a joke, they won't bother to come back. Why should they? Would you visit a friend or relative who slammed a door in your face?

This is why I always, always warn people at the beginning of a session that they can't enter into this process with fixed expectations or wearing blinders. I can't stress this point enough. If you approach a session with a closed mind, you'll miss the messages and be disappointed no matter what happens.

After this woman gave me "The Face" and "The Tone," I took a deep breath and counted to five, trying to suppress my rising anger. I reminded myself that this woman was still wrestling with her loss and had a long way to go before she came to terms with it. To her, by validating what was going on in the room that day, she'd have to acknowledge the death of her husband-something she didn't want to do. I believe that she channeled her anger at the loss toward me, and through her pain, she lashed out.

That same month, I was doing a seminar in Long Island, and the 9/11 factor was working overtime. I had already done at least five 9/11-related readings that night and a.s.sumed my hostage situation was over . . . until I was hauled over to the back of the room. There, five kids-Marie, Kathy, Chuck, Ray, and Joey-and their mom, Rosalie, were spread out across two rows of seats with expectant, hopeful looks on their faces. As I zeroed in on them, I'm sure they didn't expect to hear the first thing that flew out of my mouth. How was I to know that I was about to reveal a well-kept family secret? Blame it on the Other Side: John: Someone here is pregnant. I have a father figure coming through who's saying congratulations.Kathy: I am!Chuck, Ray, Joe: What?!Kathy: My brothers didn't know yet!John: You have a dad who's pa.s.sed. He claims he was in uniform-like a policeman or postman or military person or fireman.Kathy: Yes.John: He's telling me he had a nickname like "Duke" or . . . something like . . . I see some sort of grand t.i.tle.Kathy: His nickname was "G.o.d"! And he has "Dutch" tattooed on his arm.John: Oh, how I wish he got me to say that to you! "G.o.d is coming through to you!" He says his pa.s.sing is recent. He's complimenting you on a wreath . . . as if there was a wreath in his honor with red and white on it. And he's claiming his sister and wife would look at his pa.s.sing in the way Jack Kennedy pa.s.sed. And he says his wife was stoic and strong like Jackie Kennedy. I need to compliment her for doing that-she kept everyone together. And he had a flag burial.Rosalie: Yes.John: He's acknowledging a celebration in May.Rosalie: His daughters' birthdays are in May. And that's when we had his funeral.John: I'm asking him to describe his pa.s.sing, and he won't. Is he one of three boys? Or does he have three boys?Rosalie: Both. He has three brothers . . . and he has three sons.John: Does he have a son with him? Did he lose a son or lose someone he looked at as a son? A friend's son. Is there a Michael living?Rosalie: That's a friend's son. And yes, there was always a joke, just kidding around, that Michael was his illegitimate son.John: Michael was there before him, to help him over. Also, he's making me feel like he didn't get enough face time. Did this man have a really, really healthy ego?All of them: Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!John: I don't wanna say he's c.o.c.ky, but . . . he's confident. He's saying, "HERE I AM!"Is there a reason why he wants me to go to Jersey? He wants me to go through the Lincoln tunnel. Did he get in a ma.s.sive accident in the tunnel?Marie: He was stuck in the tunnel for a long time.John: And someone was born right after he pa.s.sed. Where's the "P"? Pat. Paul.Marie: Yes, his grandson.John: He says there's a police officer in the family.Kathy: Yes, my husband.John: What does he mean that he's on the "other" team?All (laughing): We understand that! (laughing): We understand that!John: He's claiming that "J" pa.s.sed.Kathy: That's his brother, Joe.John: He brings up his uniform again. Is it on display somewhere? He's telling me eleven . . . so that's either the 11th month, November . . . or the 11th of a month.Rosalie: Yes, that makes sense.John: Who has his hat? He's showing me his hat. This is a work hat.Chuck: I have it.John: And . . . one of you is in school. Does one of you teach something to do with b.a.l.l.s?Ray: Yes, I teach phys. ed.John (to Chuck): And you have his ring, too? You have his ring in your pocket? (to Chuck): And you have his ring, too? You have his ring in your pocket?Chuck: Yes! [Chuck pulls out his dad's ring from his front pocket.]John (to Ray): And what about you? Do you have the ring yet? (to Ray): And what about you? Do you have the ring yet?Ray: Not yet. My mom says I'm supposed to get his other ring, but I don't have it yet.John (to Joey): He says your skepticism is good. That is how he would be. He also says one of you has his name. (to Joey): He says your skepticism is good. That is how he would be. He also says one of you has his name.Ray: I do!John: He's also acknowledging Mickey Mouse. And I see a boat . . . I see fis.h.i.+ng.Marie: Oh my G.o.d! We're going on the Disney Cruise. We just booked it.John: And what does he mean that they gave him a page? Someone wrote about him in a book?Kathy: He wrote a book.John: No, he . . . he only has one published . . . well, as far as he's concerned, it's two. And the second one can be finished. He says someone in the family has a talent for writing and can write a kicka.s.s ending. His pa.s.sing seems extremely fast to me. He's going back to the wreath.Rosalie: I just saw a wreath I wanted to get for him.John: Was it red and white?Rosalie: Yes. For Christmas.John: He says your house is like Grand Central Station, with people coming and going. He puts a spotlight on your house. I see famous people coming over. I see Giuliani?Rosalie: Yes, that's right.John: Wait . . . your husband pa.s.sed on September 11th, too?Rosalie: Yes.John: He's pulling me forward . . . I think there's going to be a "me, too" connection coming up. . . .

Deputy Chief Ray Downey, Chief of Special Operations, was a New York firefighter known across the country for developing innovative rescue techniques to save people's lives. He had directed rescue efforts after the bombings in Oklahoma City and at the World Trade Center (WTC) in 1993, and after hurricanes in the Dominican Republic. So it was sadly ironic on the day of September 11, 2001, that this time he was one of the thousands missing beneath the rubble.

Chief Downey was making his way over to the Trade Center when the first tower collapsed, stalling him in a tunnel en route to Manhattan. Before the second tower came down, he had reached the WTC and had joined the rescue efforts. He was last seen running to help others as the debris from the second tower began falling.

For days after, Chief Downey's two firefighter sons-Chuck, a lieutenant; and Joe, a captain-dug through the rubble where his car had been parked in the hopes of finding their dad alive. They found the crushed car, but not their father. In the car, though, was the favorite hat he always wore-a fire-department baseball cap with the words "Special Operations" on the front, which is now cherished by his sons.

Less than two months before the disaster, Downey had been honored at a party given for him at Gracie Mansion by New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani, where he was bestowed the Crystal Apple award for his contribution to the city. It was no wonder then that the guys at the firehouse called him "G.o.d"-a nickname the family didn't know about until son Joe joined the department.

"He came home one day and said to my mom that all the guys were calling him 'Jesus' because he was 'the son of 'G.o.d,'" recalled Kathy, "and that's when we discovered what they called him. He could be very intimidating because he'd accomplished so much, but my father was the first person at your side if you needed help." At his funeral, attended by the mayor and decorated with flags, "people told my mother she reminded them of Jackie Kennedy because of the way she was so dignified," Kathy said.

The whole family was shocked when Chuck stood up in the middle of the reading and pulled their dad's lieutenant ring from deep inside his pocket-no one knew he'd brought it that day. And they had a good laugh at their dad's ribbing about one family member being a cop.

"My husband was a police officer, and my whole family were fire-fighters, and they had that rivalry." Kathy laughed. "That was the big joke. And the funny thing is, now he's a fireman, as of last month. He graduated in April!"

Since September 11, dozens of newspaper articles have been written about Chief Downey, and tributes including scholars.h.i.+p funds have been established in his name. But the family would also like to continue on with his work. He had written one book, The Rescue Company The Rescue Company, and after he died they discovered he'd been working on a second.

"I hope we can finish it for him," said Marie, "since he says it can be done." The Downey family always knew that their dad was special to them, but didn't realize how many lives he touched when he left for work each day.

"Ten thousand people came to his funeral service," recalled Marie. "We were amazed. They closed the schools in town, they closed the roads. It was overwhelming. And so was the reading we had. We left the seminar that night feeling differently about 'death.' It doesn't bring him back, but to know he's still there somewhere makes our hearts feel good."

And just to top off the evening, the Other Side went for number eight. I was pulled over to another family, two sisters, sitting in the front row . . .

John: I'm being pulled over here . . . who's the Jeff?Woman: That's with me.John: Someone pa.s.ses from an impact. And I think . . . wait. You have a 9/11 connection, too?Woman: Yes.John: I'm getting a feeling of honor. So he was working? Was he a fireman?Woman: Yes.John: And . . . they called him in the bombing in 1993, too, right? He was there the other time, he's telling me.Woman: Yes.John: He wants me to say "Tiger."Woman: Another fireman he worked with, that's what he called him.John: And who's Nick?Woman: That's him . . . that's my husband.John: Wait . . . and . . . [to the woman sitting beside her] . . . you have a 9/11 connection, too?Woman #2: Yes.

At this point, the rest of the room could barely contain themselves. The atmosphere was so highly charged that everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats.

John: He's acknowledging a "Kate" or a "Katey."Woman #2: Kitty. We have an Aunt Kitty who's pa.s.sed.John: He says there's a male one level above who's with him.Woman #2: Uncle Ben.John: He says that when the terror attack happened . . . you knew he'd be gone. . . .Woman #2: I knew. I knew it when he called me.John: He called two people. Wait [to the two women] . . . you two are related?Woman #2: Yes, she's my sister-in-law. I lost my two brothers.John: They were literally together? In the same building?Woman #1: Yes.John: One of them is making me feel like . . . your mother, she'd be fine if she didn't wake up tomorrow.Woman #2: She's a very spiritual person, but she's tired. . . .John: Your mom lost two other children before this. I don't know if she had two miscarriages?Woman #2: I know she had one for sure.John: I'm getting that there are five kids in the family.Woman #2: Yes.John: He wants me to acknowledge Ted.Woman #2: My brother, Ted.John: And what's your Pennsylvania tie?Woman #2: My mother lived in Pennsylvania.John: Where's Julia? Julie?Woman #1: Julie, that's me.John: They're okay. They were very high up in the building, right?Woman #1: Yes. On the 95th floor.John: They pa.s.sed very fast. On the phone . . . did he say something to you like he was afraid?Woman #1: He said to me, "It doesn't look good. This is bad."John: Please, please know that they're okay.

A 9/11 pa.s.sing is no different from any other pa.s.sing to the people left behind. Each person who has lost a loved one experiences their own personal tragedy, and we all must find a way to deal with the loss and grief. I would hope that in dealing with that grief, you would honor those around who are trying to help you through it. And if a loved one on the Other Side attempts to make contact with you, please don't dismiss the experience. They're reaching out with love, and if you respond with anger, you'll cut off the communication because they'll see that you're not ready and willing.

Yes, it is is important to have certain expectations about the process . . . and that means you should expect solid validations that will a.s.sure you that it is indeed your loved one coming through. At the same time, you can't expect only validations that important to have certain expectations about the process . . . and that means you should expect solid validations that will a.s.sure you that it is indeed your loved one coming through. At the same time, you can't expect only validations that you you decide upon to come through-and if they don't, decide the process isn't real. That's like going to a concert and expecting a performer to sing only your favorite songs, and when they don't, deciding that the concert didn't exist at all. decide upon to come through-and if they don't, decide the process isn't real. That's like going to a concert and expecting a performer to sing only your favorite songs, and when they don't, deciding that the concert didn't exist at all.

As this generation becomes more aware of the open lines of communication between our world and the next one, you yourself will become more a part of this process. I think that talking to our loved ones on the Other Side on a daily basis-and without the use of a medium-will become commonplace.

WHEN I I THINK OF THE SPIRITUAL EVOLUTION THINK OF THE SPIRITUAL EVOLUTION we've already seen in the last few years-the drastic changes in societal views about life after death-I can't help but think of Sh.e.l.ley, who would have flourished in this new environment. Her death was a major personal and professional loss for me, and when she died I couldn't understand why G.o.d would take such a gifted medium and teacher who could have helped so many more people here in this world. But now, I wonder if G.o.d took her so she could expand her work elsewhere. Remember when I said that Sh.e.l.ley was always the queen of the "Greeting Committee" here on Earth? Well, I believe that Sh.e.l.ley is still acting as the Greeting Committee, but on the Other Side. we've already seen in the last few years-the drastic changes in societal views about life after death-I can't help but think of Sh.e.l.ley, who would have flourished in this new environment. Her death was a major personal and professional loss for me, and when she died I couldn't understand why G.o.d would take such a gifted medium and teacher who could have helped so many more people here in this world. But now, I wonder if G.o.d took her so she could expand her work elsewhere. Remember when I said that Sh.e.l.ley was always the queen of the "Greeting Committee" here on Earth? Well, I believe that Sh.e.l.ley is still acting as the Greeting Committee, but on the Other Side.

Sh.e.l.ley died two months before the attack on the World Trade Center, and the timing of her death is uncanny to me. The way I figure it, she crossed over, had a few weeks to acclimate herself, and then she got to work doing what she does best-acting as Grand Dame of the Greeting Committee. And trust me, if your loved ones needed to be met on the Other Side, they couldn't be in more loving hands. It's not a coincidence that Sh.e.l.ley pa.s.sed when she did, and it's also not coincidental that a TV show like Crossing Over Crossing Over, which deals with death and communicating with our loved ones, was put on the air one year before such a tragedy. I think it was part of the Universal plan, to prepare the consciousness of our country for what was to come and what we would need to endure.

And to be a part of that preparation and healing has been the greatest honor for me.

CHAPTER 9.

MAMA MIA!.

MY MOTHER LEFT THE PHYSICAL WORLD nearly fourteen years ago, and I still hear her talking to me almost every day. I don't mean I hear her in the "psychic" sense, but in the regular mother-son sense. Her love and parenting are so deeply ingrained in my soul that I hear her teaching words and sometimes just her Mom-like remarks ringing in my ear as I go about my daily routine. nearly fourteen years ago, and I still hear her talking to me almost every day. I don't mean I hear her in the "psychic" sense, but in the regular mother-son sense. Her love and parenting are so deeply ingrained in my soul that I hear her teaching words and sometimes just her Mom-like remarks ringing in my ear as I go about my daily routine.

Especially now that I'm a dad, I experience flashbacks of my mother from my childhood-songs she sang to me, funny voices she used in order to amuse me (she'd make me laugh by doing Ernie's laugh-of the Bert and Ernie duo on Sesame Street Sesame Street). I consider all these small moments validations that my mother is still with me.

The reading in this chapter, with model Mia Tyler, demonstrates how one mother's love and connection to her daughter is still strong and very much alive on the Other Side. When we began this book, Natasha immediately thought of Mia-daughter of Aerosmith's Steven Tyler and sister of actress Liv Tyler-as someone who would be interested in this process.

As usual, I had no idea whom I was reading the day I walked into the hotel suite in midtown Manhattan. And, since I'm not a subscriber to Vogue Vogue magazine, I didn't recognize Mia on sight. Arriving thirty minutes late, I was met at the door by Natasha's smiling and excited face, and my first thought wasn't about the "client" I was about to meet, but about Natasha. She'd organized this session and felt a sense of obligation, which the planner of a reading often takes on-as if they're responsible for who comes through during the session (when even the psychic cannot take on that responsibility!). And there was something else on my mind. Ever since we began this project, and particularly since I discovered in our earlier reading with Norris Mailer that Natasha had lost her own mother, I'd been seeing that the sessions were having a personal effect on her. Especially during readings involving mothers and daughters, it was as though she was vicariously experiencing a reading herself, and hearing her own mother's words of love and validation. magazine, I didn't recognize Mia on sight. Arriving thirty minutes late, I was met at the door by Natasha's smiling and excited face, and my first thought wasn't about the "client" I was about to meet, but about Natasha. She'd organized this session and felt a sense of obligation, which the planner of a reading often takes on-as if they're responsible for who comes through during the session (when even the psychic cannot take on that responsibility!). And there was something else on my mind. Ever since we began this project, and particularly since I discovered in our earlier reading with Norris Mailer that Natasha had lost her own mother, I'd been seeing that the sessions were having a personal effect on her. Especially during readings involving mothers and daughters, it was as though she was vicariously experiencing a reading herself, and hearing her own mother's words of love and validation.

That has always been true for me, too, with each and every one of the thousands of readings I've done. I've always maintained that I do this work selfishly, because with each connection I make for a stranger, I'm indirectly validating for myself that my own loved ones are alive and well on the Other Side.

Mia came to the reading with her cousin, Julia, and as I found out after the fact that she (Mia) was hoping to connect with her her mother, who had pa.s.sed away six months earlier. Mia's reading is an example of a daughter finding out her mom is still watching over her-and a reminder to us all that our parents look out for us even after they're gone. mother, who had pa.s.sed away six months earlier. Mia's reading is an example of a daughter finding out her mom is still watching over her-and a reminder to us all that our parents look out for us even after they're gone.

John: I've got an older female coming through that I'd look at as being either a mother or being like an aunt or a grandmother. The connection is intense. And the emotion that comes up around this feels split, as if there's a dual type of relations.h.i.+p, where two people are within one in some way. And I feel like it's something that has unfinished business attached to it.Now, I don't know if there's a connection to somebody who crossed themselves over, where their actions bring about their pa.s.sing, but there's somebody who's claiming that they're responsible for how they got there.I'm being shown drums, so I don't know if there's some type of drum connection to this woman, if there's a drum relations.h.i.+p to you, or it's you. But they're banging on drums for me. It's a way of either telling me that somebody is known for their drums, somebody has the drums, somebody's taking drum lessons, somebody's a drummer, but there's a drum reference that they want me to come up with.Mia: Should I tell you what-John: Nope, nope. This woman who's claiming to be like the mother has a male figure to her side who's with her. So, this is actually a biological mom that we're talking about?Mia: Yes.John: Then I'm talking about either her brother, a brother figure, or somebody who would be on the same level . . . an uncle or another male figure like that who's with her.Mia: Okay.John: Now, I just want to say something else, and I'm sorry to say it like this, but there's an issue of abuse that comes up here in a big way. So I feel like I don't know if this is physical abuse or s.e.xual abuse, but there's a lot of abuse here.Mia: Yes.John: This is connected to your mom?Mia: Yes.John: I think she feels that there were dead ends in places for her. And, I don't know if she gave you up, or if she chose not to raise you, or if she chose to s.h.i.+rk responsibility of being the nurturing, maternal energy that you would like to convince yourself you had-Mia: Yes.John: But she's making me feel like, you need to understand that we both know you didn't have that, okay?Mia: Yes.John: But she wants you to know that doesn't mean that she doesn't love you. And it doesn't mean that she doesn't look at you as being a friend, because I think she does. And I also feel like your connection to her is probably even stronger now than it was when she was here, and that she has influenced your creativity, and she's influenced your self-worth. So I feel like you actually now look at things in a very, very different way.Mia: Yes.John: She knows that in her death she's altered your life in the biggest way possible, but you have to know that that doesn't come without paying a price. And the price is huge. And she's making me feel like you have to understand that there are a lot of issues within your family that you won't be able to fix or control, you won't be able to get the answers, you won't be able to understand, and some things just have to be taken at face value, and you have to know this is what it is.Mia: Yes.John: Now, she's also claiming you [pointing to Julia]. So, I don't know if you're not her daughter, if you are her daughter, I don't know what your connection is to her, but she's making me feel like I need to thank you for being supportive, and for-you come across with words at times when people couldn't actually give the words. And I don't know if you guys know each other from being three years old, or if there's some type of really strong bond right underneath the age of five, like in kindergarten, or if you were split up in some way. . . .Mia/Julia (laughing in unison): (laughing in unison): Yes! Yes!John: . . . but she's making me feel like it's important for her to address that you're here. And I don't know if you're the artist or if somebody is known for their painting, or you're supposed to acknowledge the painting reference to you. Like you painted on her walls when you were a child or took nail polish and made pretty little faces on whatever this is.I also want to tell you that she's got her mother with her. So to me there's a female figure above her I'd see as being her mother, her aunt. You're looking at me like I'm crazy, but I'm still going with this-Mia: No, I think-John: Wait, wait . . . let me do this. There's a unique "G" name connected to this family, so somebody might be Gloria, somebody might be Gwen, there's like a "GA" sound, there's a hard "G." But I really believe her mom pa.s.sed, so if it's not her mother she's got, then I believe it's the oldest female that's with her. . . .Mia: Yes, yes.John: Who I believe pa.s.sed before her.Mia: Yes.John: Who wants me to let you know she was there to greet her on the Other Side. Now, there's a magazine connection that I'm supposed to bring up connected to your mom.Mia: Yes.John: But I'm supposed to acknowledge the magazine connection to you with with your mom. So does she mean she was in it? Or on it? your mom. So does she mean she was in it? Or on it?Mia: Yes, both of us.John: And she's making me feel like there's one shot of your mom that looks like you, or that you paralleled her in some way.The other thing she wants me to talk about is a frame. And she's making me feel like it's-it looks like a bra.s.sy-looking, gold metal frame, but it's not an old-fas.h.i.+oned frame, it's a . . . I don't know what you call it. Imagine having a frame and hammering the c.r.a.p out of it so that it would have circles banged into it, like bent. She's telling me to acknowledge that.Now was she adopted?Mia: No . . .John: Why would she bring up adoption? She's telling me to talk about Carol. Or Carolyn, or Kara, Carol . . .Mia: Carol? I don't know a Carol . . .John: Did Carol live near you when you were kids?Mia: Well, yeah, when we were little, across the street.John: She might want to get me to go back to that time frame. So if you try to take us back to that place-that might be where the adopted thing goes, to that time period. So at that age, when there was that Carol person around, that might be the time period when someone was either given up for adoption or that might have been the time when she took care of somebody else's child, or somebody else took care of her child.She's showing me pink roses. That's her way of expressing her love for you. You wanted to know if she had the dog with her?Mia: Oh, yeah!John: She says yes.Mia: Oh my G.o.d.John: You have a camera of hers? She's showing me an actual camera, and it's an old-fas.h.i.+oned-looking camera to me. Like a Polaroid camera.Mia: She gave me one she found. It wasn't hers; it was something she got when she was sick.John: It might just be her way of describing what was happening around you at the time. She says to bring up October. There's gotta be a connection to October as well. And I'll tell you I think it's around the 17th. Write this down. There's a connection to October 17th. Now . . . she said you were hoping to hear from her today?Mia: Oh, yeah.John: I love when that happens.She's making me feel, though, that there's a . . . I just want to go on record, you said she was sick, but she's making me feel like there's maybe a three-day period where everyone thought she was gonna be okay, or there was a three-day period where everything was fine, or there was a three-day period where she just felt awesome. Or maybe a three-day period where she was on very heavy medication and that's why she would feel awesome, I don't know.Mia: Yeah.John: She's telling me to talk about upstate. She wants me to tell you about upstate?Mia: Yeah.John: And I don't know if you're her only child? Okay, you are. Because she's making me feel like you're it it . . . you're the world. But I don't know if she was ever really able to say that to you. I don't know if she was ever able to verbalize to you your importance. You know the feeling that I have is . . . it's very hard to describe it when they give me this feeling, but I feel if I'm your mom, I'm in awe of you. . . . you're the world. But I don't know if she was ever really able to say that to you. I don't know if she was ever able to verbalize to you your importance. You know the feeling that I have is . . . it's very hard to describe it when they give me this feeling, but I feel if I'm your mom, I'm in awe of you.Mia: [nods]John: Like you're mine-I made this-how did this happen? I don't feel like I deserve this because I didn't really do this, you know, it's like I can't take credit for this. That's the feeling, that's how it's coming across to me. And there's silent praise. She wants to know if you kept the barrette. To me a barrette would be a hair tie or something that goes in the hair, so I don't know if it's something you have from your childhood or if it's something of hers that you kept. I don't think she means you kept her hair, but there's something about the barrette or the hair thing.Mia: I don't know. I've got so much of her stuff. . . .John: She's also telling me to talk about . . . are you going to California, are there any California connections? Because I'm hearing the song "California Dreaming" in my head.Mia: Yeah! I'm going to move there. Is it a good thing? [laughing]John: They'll never tell us what to do, but she's showing me that this is what's here. [To Julia:] Did you come into the city especially to do this? [To Mia:] So you're supposed to take her out to dinner tonight because of this?Mia and Julia (laughing and in unison): Yes! We're going right after this! (laughing and in unison): Yes! We're going right after this!John: Okay, when they do that, that's just their way of letting you know they know what's what.Mia: We just decided this, like a half hour ago!John: Just know that she's very happy to be able to do this. She's happy to be able to come through for you. And I don't know if you come from a Catholic background, but she's showing me St. Patrick's Cathedral.Mia: Yeah, of course she is, yeah.John: But St. Patrick's Cathedral is a big deal.Mia: Yes. I was baptized there.John: You were? Wow. Okay . . . she's pulling her energy back.

Mia's mother, actress/model Cyrinda Foxe Tyler, died on September 7, 2002, at age fifty-one, after battling a stroke and a brain tumor, but she came through to me that day bursting with intensity and energy. "Yep, that's my mom," said Mia. "She was intense. She was a ball of fire."

Cyrinda, I learned, was born Kathleen Hetzekian, was the inspiration for the David Bowie song "Jean Genie," and was also a regular of Andy Warhol's avant-garde scene of the '60s. After Mia filled me in on her and her mom's history, the drum references I got during the reading made perfect sense. As well as Cyrinda's obvious music connection, Mia told me that her boyfriend, Dave (who became her fiance a few months after the reading), is a drummer and that her father started out as one, and then Julia added that her father and brother were also drummers-"so there are all kinds of drummers in the family," they laughed. Also, since Mia's dad is a celebrity, it may have been a way for Cyrinda to show that connection without letting me know who Mia's dad was, thereby protecting the anonymity of the reading.

Some of the information that came through was very personal to Mia and her family. Her mother revealed the abuse she'd endured growing up, which Mia acknowledged. Linked to that abuse was Cyrinda's perception of herself as a "dual personality."

"Oh G.o.d, yeah, because her real name was Kathleen," Mia explained, "and when she ran away from home from the abuse and everything, she changed it to Cyrinda Foxe . . . so there are two personalities. She left that other person behind."

I a.s.sured Mia that her mother was going through a healing process on the Other Side about her past troubles growing up and the conflicts she had as a mother. "I'm glad she acknowledges what she did here and that she doesn't feel that way there," Mia replied. "As sad as I was to watch her suffer, I kept saying after she died that she's in a better place, and maybe she's not feeling all that there. That was the one thing I wanted to know . . . if she's still angry or not, and since that was the first thing you said, it makes me feel a lot better."

The girls were also giddy that Mia's mom came through with their own spotted history. The two of them, Mia and Julia, had been very close as little kids and then were separated for many years and lost contact until Mia tracked Julia down again. Since their reunion, the two have been as close as sisters, which came through in the reading as well.

Mia's mother also picked up on a lot of events happening in her daughter's life today, such as her upcoming move to Los Angeles from New York to jump-start her music career, and a recent photo shoot that was a special nod to mom.

Mia recalled, "I just did a thing in Vogue Vogue magazine where I'm wearing this outfit, and I've been saying for weeks that it's the exact same outfit she'd wear and that she would magazine where I'm wearing this outfit, and I've been saying for weeks that it's the exact same outfit she'd wear and that she would love love it if I was in this outfit because it's it if I was in this outfit because it's exactly exactly how she wanted me to dress. And I keep saying, 'That's her!' It's me, but it's also her." how she wanted me to dress. And I keep saying, 'That's her!' It's me, but it's also her."

Both Mia and Julia have felt Cyrinda's presence around them since she pa.s.sed, and asked me if some of the "strange" occurrences-a missing phone, a temperamental, flickering stove-were her ways of trying to communicate with them. I checked in with my guides, who were still keyed in to Cyrinda's energy, and asked them. "No, she didn't do any of that," I told them, "but . . . she will will take credit for the computer thing. . . ." take credit for the computer thing. . . ."

At that, the two young women got excited. Mia explained that right after her mom pa.s.sed, she was in Chicago with her boyfriend, and his computer kept going on and off as she was thinking about her mother. And then, in our discussion, she discovered yet another computer communication.

"Oh my G.o.d . . . there was something else I never even told you," Julia excitedly told Mia. She described how she and her boyfriend were at their computer late one night when all of a sudden he looked at the screen and saw words there that he didn't write. "It was your mother talking to me!" Julia also promised to print out and send the message to her cousin as soon as she got home.

One validation Mia was hoping to hear, but didn't, was a reference to a necklace she'd brought with her that day. Her mother had sold most of her jewelry when she ran out of money at one point, but had saved one favorite necklace that Mia had inherited. Mia pulled the necklace out of her pocket-it had a coin-sized golden mandolin player on the end of the chain-and as soon as I saw it, I recognized the hammered metal with the little circles on it.

"That's what I was seeing in the reading . . . when I described the frame . . . it looked like this!" I exclaimed. I asked Mia if she'd ever hung the necklace on the edge of a frame and, indeed, she's kept the necklace hanging on a frame in her bathroom for months. It's the first thing she sees every morning. Mia was very thrilled by this final validation, and the fact that her mother was not alone on the Other Side. The male figure who came through to her side who might be the one who crossed himself over, she suspected, was Mom's old pal, singer Johnny Thunder, who'd died from an overdose in 1991 at the age of thirty-eight.

"She always said he was waiting for her; she knew he was waiting," Mia recalled. Also on the Other Side keeping mom company is Mia's childhood pet, a German shepherd. But most of all, Mia was heartened to know that her mother had let go of old, angry feelings from her past. "I just wanted to know that wherever she is, she's not bitter . . . she's happy."

Before we left each other, I told Mia that while I was driving to the reading that day I'd gotten stuck behind a bus painted with a giant advertis.e.m.e.nt for the Broadway play Mamma Mia! Mamma Mia!, so I should have known I had an appointment with a Mia and her mama.

"I was her baby." Mia smiled. "She would always call me 'my baby, my baby.' She would definitely always say I was her world, and she was definitely in awe of me."

With Mia's reading, we can see that even though our loved ones may have been troubled and in pain in this world, they find peace on the Other Side. And they send that peace our way, too, trying to heal relations.h.i.+ps they have with us and trying to give us the strength to face our own challenges. With the support they send us, we can carry on in directions they may not have been able to. So in a sense, we continue to take their unfinished dreams forward, as well as our own.

After the reading, Natasha and I were both in that missing-Mom mode once more, but we were also elated that Mia had left the hotel room that day certain she'd connected with her own mother. "She wanted it so badly," Natasha told me. "I was afraid it wouldn't happen."

Judging by Cyrinda's intense energy during the session, I told Natasha that she was obviously very ready to come through for Mia. And her daughter was prepared and eager to hear encouraging, healing words from her mom. It was the right time for both of them.

CHAPTER 10.

PAPA, CAN YOU HEAR ME?.

WHEN S SANDRA AND I I DISCOVERED THAT SHE WAS PREGNANT DISCOVERED THAT SHE WAS PREGNANT in January 2002, thanks to the granny in Vegas, we were overjoyed. I had always wanted to be a dad and imagined having a big, loud brood of kids sitting around the kitchen table. Maybe it's because I was an only child and had always wanted brothers and sisters, or maybe it's because I loved every second of the large, crazy Italian family that has surrounded me my whole life. in January 2002, thanks to the granny in Vegas, we were overjoyed. I had always wanted to be a dad and imagined having a big, loud brood of kids sitting around the kitchen table. Maybe it's because I was an only child and had always wanted brothers and sisters, or maybe it's because I loved every second of the large, crazy Italian family that has surrounded me my whole life.

Before Justin was born, I tried to imagine what kind of father I'd be, and there was one thing I knew for sure: I didn't want to be a father like mine-emotionally distant. So since the day Justin was born, every morning and night I hold my little "monster"-as I affectionately call him-and whisper into his ear, "Daddy loves you. Daddy loves you, Justin. . . ." These are words I never, ever heard from my own father.

Throughout my entire life, the relations.h.i.+p between my father and me alternated between two extremes-turbulent and nonexistent. Most people outside my family don't know this, because I never speak about him in public. While many of you can probably recite ad nauseum the family stories I've told over and over in my books and on Crossing Over Crossing Over about Mom's side of the family, I'm sure you've noticed that I don't mention Dad or his side. At one seminar a few years ago in San Francisco, a woman in the audience stood up during the question period and asked me why I never mentioned my dad . . . did I even have one? about Mom's side of the family, I'm sure you've noticed that I don't mention Dad or his side. At one seminar a few years ago in San Francisco, a woman in the audience stood up during the question period and asked me why I never mentioned my dad . . . did I even have one?

Well, yes and no, I told her.

For years I've kept quiet about our lack of relations.h.i.+p for fear of embarra.s.sing him. But it has become more difficult to keep it under wraps with reporters wanting to unearth some juicy, scandalous tidbits about the man who talks to the dead. How about this one: In the last seven years, I've barely had one conversation with my own father. Now, I know what many of you are thinking: How can I preach about communicating, appreciating, and validating the people in your lives when I don't do this myself? Simple: I believe you should try as best you can to value your family and friends, but I also believe that if you've tried your utmost and the relations.h.i.+p remains unhealthy for you, you should let it go.

My father, Jack, was known to most people as one of the most honest, loyal, respectful people you would ever meet. To the outside world, he was a great guy. But to me, he was an emotional stranger. I heard for years from other people that my dad loved me but had a difficult time demonstrating his feelings and couldn't show it. My mother and father would constantly argue about his lack of emotional support for me, his only son. When did our relations.h.i.+p go wrong? Well, to be honest, when I was born. Part of me thinks I was born too quickly into my parents' young marriage-within their first year together.

Perhaps my father wasn't ready or emotionally equipped to be a father at the age of twenty-six. Or maybe he resented the attention my mother gave me and took away from him. But I also believe that my mother didn't allow herself to fully detach from her somewhat overwhelming family. They were a tight-knit group, always into everybody else's business and very open, whereas my dad's family was very quiet and didn't discuss anything.

In the midst of this rambunctious Italian family, my father stood alone, the odd man out. My dad's background was Irish-which is kinda like the opposite of Italian when it comes to expressing emotion. How the two sides communicated was worlds apart: Mom's side wore their hearts on their sleeves; Dad's side kept them tightly sewn up. To top it all off-and I know I'll be p.i.s.sing off many people in his family for revealing this-my father wrestled with a severe drinking problem.

As long as I can remember, he had two personalities-the one that was not not drinking and the one that drinking and the one that was was. Unfortunately, the one that didn't didn't drink wasn't a communicator. My father was a New York City police officer and a career military man who had a strong demeanor that came across as almost gruff. He would often make my mother cry, and then she had to tell me, this five-year-old kid, not to be angry at Daddy for making her cry. I heard at least once a day that my father loved me . . . from my mother. She would constantly tell me that I had to be understanding of him, and patient, that he just could not be like her brothers, who would hug me and play with me and throw me over their shoulders. drink wasn't a communicator. My father was a New York City police officer and a career military man who had a strong demeanor that came across as almost gruff. He would often make my mother cry, and then she had to tell me, this five-year-old kid, not to be angry at Daddy for making her cry. I heard at least once a day that my father loved me . . . from my mother. She would constantly tell me that I had to be understanding of him, and patient, that he just could not be like her brothers, who would hug me and play with me and throw me over their shoulders.

When the other other Jack showed up-the Jack showed up-the drinking drinking Jack-it was a little different. His eyes would be a bit gla.s.sy, and his speech a bit slurred, but he would be more attentive to me. Still, I always shunned that Jack because he scared me. I would run to my room and close the door, praying that he wouldn't come in. At night, when my parents thought I was sleeping, I would hear my mom complain to him about how he should tell me he loved me and not just stare at me while I was sleeping. Apparently, he would come into my bedroom and watch me sleep, amazed that I was his. One night I woke to find him petting my hair, and I remember smiling and then rolling over, wis.h.i.+ng he'd continue. But then he left. Jack-it was a little different. His eyes would be a bit gla.s.sy, and his speech a bit slurred, but he would be more attentive to me. Still, I always shunned that Jack because he scared me. I would run to my room and close the door, praying that he wouldn't come in. At night, when my parents thought I was sleeping, I would hear my mom complain to him about how he should tell me he loved me and not just stare at me while I was sleeping. Apparently, he would come into my bedroom and watch me sleep, amazed that I was his. One night I woke to find him petting my hair, and I remember smiling and then rolling over, wis.h.i.+ng he'd continue. But then he left.