I was too young for what I’d just experienced. My wife dying from cancer. Cancer she’d unknowingly had since before we were married. Nothing we tried could stop it or make it go away.
Friends with good intentions shared that I would never again experience a love like the love I’d shared with her. I was still so young. Was the rest of my life to be empty?
A charming place nearby advertised a “Psychic Fair”. I wasn’t really in the mood, but I went. The setting was pretty. The place had positive people. The problem was me. I wasn’t feeling ready yet to be surrounded by so many people.
I was told that if I make my way to the end of a long hallway there would be a room where the psychics were offering their readings. I began walking down the long empty hallway.
A few feet before I reached the door at the end of the hall I paused. Did I really want to do this? What questions did I have? I was feeling that maybe I should turn around and leave.
Suddenly I felt a hard jab on my upper left shoulder.
It was so forceful it pushed me forward a couple of steps. Who was so anxious standing behind me that they were willing to rudely push me?
I turned around, ready to say to the person standing in back of me, “Hey!”
But there was nobody there.
The hallway was empty.
Then who had shoved me? There really was absolutely no one behind me. Only a long hall that was totally empty. Silent. Bare.
I reflected. The shove pushed me toward the door leading to the room filled with psychics. Was someone unseen wanting me to enter?
I stepped forward and grasped hold of the door handle. I entered the room.
There were table settings inside with nearly every chair filled with a psychic and their patron. All having their palms read or tarot cards placed in front of them.
Only one chair was empty with an unoccupied psychic. A young female, fairly attractive, with long hair.
I approached and asked if I could receive a reading. The psychic motioned toward the chair, and began placing tarot cards in front of me.
“I’m beginning to sense something right away.” she began. “You will meet somebody.”
She closed her eyes before continuing. “You mustn’t be alone. That message is emphatic.”
She looked at me. “You need to move on.”
My wife, before her passing, would often cry in our bed worrying that she would be leaving me alone. Should she not survive her cancer she did not want me to be without someone. Was she the one who had just touched me in the hall? Was she the “ghost” who pushed me?
What it must have taken for her to create such an etherial force as to be able to physically touch me from the beyond. Heaven and earth do not always meet. To manifest a means to not only touch me, but to shove me so hard that I was pushed a couple of feet forward, was itself meant to convey a message. Clearly, she wanted me to hear what this psychic had to say. The exact same words she used to share with me in person just before she left me.
My wife loved me. She clearly did.
She loved me enough to let me go.
Now it was my turn to do the same.