Allison DuBois - Don't Kiss Them Good-bye

I look at my own life and I feel so fulfilled and blessed in doing what I do. I am under constant scrutiny, always being asked, “Do you really believe that people still exist after they die?”

I always answer, “Oh, yes. I’m one of the few people in the world who is sure they do.”

Often I hear “I am a skeptic; I don’t believe in an afterlife.” My answer is skeptics they will know for sure after they die. It’s true!

No matter how many slams I receive, I will gladly endure them. They’re a small price to pay for such a blessed life.

I have included this chapter to share with you some of the little things that we human beings tend to take for granted in life. These are the same things that we cherish most after we lose a loved one. It is often the little things that poignantly connect us to the other side. Being able to provide the name of a deceased loved one is good, but sentimental details are more personal and confirm the authenticity of the connection to someone on the other side.

I realized after countless readings that the little things are important because what may seem insignificant to most people is a priceless, soothing detail to another. My clients have contributed the following readings so that you can share their feelings from revisiting loved ones who have passed away. Each reading has touched me and taught me something new about being a medium.

Occasionally the information I communicate to my client doesn’t make sense to him at the time of the reading and he looks quite perplexed. Usually within a couple of weeks I receive a telephone call or card from that client coupled with a story that sheds light on the previously unfamiliar details. Some new experience or discovery has made the information I gave pertinent.

In other situations, the intensity of a good reading can mean that it takes time for the client to process all the information being received. I’ve gotten first names, middle names, last names, cities, car models, favorite food dishes, you name it. After all the efforts I made to give the most impressive information possible, what I found mattered most was the small stuff. One of the many lessons that I’ve learned from the other side is that it’s the little things that are powerful enough to tear down the toughest walls of disbelief.

I once did a reading for a beautiful, effervescent sixteen-year-old girl, whom I’ll call Lisa; Lisa had recently lost her best friend, whom I’ll call Kim, in a horrible car accident, and she needed closure surrounding Kim’s death. Kim came through and shared many messages that were significant to Lisa; among other things, she talked about a pinball machine that they had played often, and told Lisa about a so-called friend who didn’t have Lisa’s best interests at heart.

Lisa wanted to be sure of my ability, so she threw out names and then asked me to comment on the people. I didn’t mind being tested. I prefer to receive limited information from clients, so the impact of the information I give them is greater. And I enjoy a challenge, as long as it’s not delivered out of anger. I was on target with the people Lisa tested me on, but Kim didn’t feel that Lisa was getting the full message. Kim then provided me with information that was intended to get Lisa’s attention. I turned to her and said, “Lisa, who is number eleven? I am being shown a sports jersey with the number eleven on the back.”

Lisa’s paused and said, “That’s me. I am number eleven on my high school basketball team.”

So two best friends who had done everything together until parted by death were able to reconnect. I explained to Lisa that the information was given to me by Kim in order to get her full attention so that she would take the information to heart. Kim is still watching out for Lisa and loving her. Lisa had no doubt that Kim was with us that afternoon and is still walking through life with her.

I have many clients who have lost a parent. It’s hard to let go of parents. Either you were lucky in having a good relationship and now you miss them, or they were never there for you and you need a connection to experience closure. It is completely understandable that either of these are painful enough to require closure.

Rick is a burly man whose caring, good-hearted nature drew me in immediately. He appeared at my door cheerful but hesitant. As we sat down for his one-hour reading, he told me that his mother had just died. He was having a hard time dealing with her loss because he was a long haul driver and was on I-80 in Nebraska at the time that she passed.

I said, “Your mother is making my head hurt from both the inside and outside. Does that make sense to you? Like maybe she had an aneurysm and her head hit a table or something when she fell.”

“Yes, she had a stroke while she was in her bathroom, and hit her head on the sink when she fell,” he said.

“Well, she doesn’t want her husband to be blamed; she insists he’s not at fault.”

Rick mentioned that some family members had blamed his father.

“I keep seeing a roulette table.” (I was hoping he wouldn’t take this badly. Sometimes, something comes out in a reading that a client might find offensive—like an affair or compulsive gambling—especially if the subject is his mother.) “Did she want to go to Las Vegas, or had she been there recently?”

He looked stunned. “Yes!”

Rick explained that his mother had just returned from Las Vegas the day she died. She had put down her suitcase, walked into her bedroom-bathroom, suffered a stroke, and died. Rick’s dad was at work at the time and when he returned home it seemed as if no one was home. He opened the door to his bedroom and noticed that the lights were out, but his wife wasn’t in bed. So he went into the kitchen to fix something to eat and decided to watch TV while waiting for her to return. He hadn’t realized that his wife was on the bathroom floor, unable to call out for help.

Because of this, Rick had feelings of turmoil attached to his mother’s passing. His mother was setting the record straight from the other side by relieving her family of the guilt and frustration that burdened them.

“Rick, did your mother have a round table with a bowl of fruit on it?”

“Yes, and now I have it.”

“Your mother still sits there. It’s your daily time together, she says.”

Tears formed in his eyes. Rick’s mom then referred to a woman named Susan; she wanted Rick to know that Susan and she were together. I then asked Rick to call Susan’s mother (if she was open to hearing from the other side) and tell her that her daughter was okay and that she was with his mother.

Rick wasn’t fully aware of how significant this message was at the time but he was happy to hear Susan’s name mentioned. When he left that day, he said he felt a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He called me the next day to tell me that he had contacted Susan’s mother, who lives in Florida. He told her about his reading with me and passed on the news that Susan was with his mom and was very happy. She started crying and said she had been thinking about her Susie all week: The next day was the anniversary of her death. She said that she had been talking to Susan because she missed her so much and had hoped that Susan could hear her. Susan definitely answered that question.

Rick’s phone call gave Susan’s mother confirmation that her daughter was still with her. It was no coincidence that Rick’s phone call came the day before the anniversary of Susan’s death.

Rick and his mother are connected in life and in the afterlife. So are Susan and her mother. The mother-child bond can never be broken.