Here is a story from my therapy practice in Bryn Mawr. Earlier this summer, a client of mine―I’ll call her Beth―made her transition out of the body. I had worked with her for a year and a half as she battled a very deadly form of cancer. A few weeks before she died, I visited her in the hospital to do some Reiki healing. A couple of days later, I went back to do another healing session, but this time there were endless interruptions and the healing never got done. When I left her that afternoon, I told her that I would check in and do some distant healing. I went home with every intention to do distant Reiki, but when I tried to connect, I was told that I wasn’t allowed to.
Beth and I emailed each other and she wrote that she was in hospice. I offered to come and visit her and do some more Reiki. In a message on Tuesday, she suggested that maybe I could come on Friday. In the days that followed she was in and out of consciousness as I learned from texting with her husband. We never got the visit scheduled for that Friday, so I tried again to do some distant communication and healing.
When I connected with Beth, the first thing that I saw was an image of her body lifted over itself. And then she and I began to have a conversation, in which I was reassuring her that it was OK for her to go. I was guided to say things that I’d never thought of before, and the words flowed through me. It was OK for her to leave her teenage daughter. Her early death had been known since before her daughter was born, and all of the decisions that they had made as a family were leading to this point.
When I finished talking I saw my friend standing before a blazing sun looking radiant and reassured, confident, happy, and powerful. Three days later, she died. I attended her funeral, which was an amazing service filled with reverence and love. Many of the women in attendance were wearing head scarves, and some of them were printed with Beth’s poetry. The day was beautiful, and her spirit was surely there, proud to witness the love and devotion of her community.
On the day following her death, another friend of mine was giving a talk on metaphysics and channeling. At the end of her talk, she led our group through a guided meditation in which we connected with a loved one on the other side. In the exercise, we went up a flight of stairs and down a hallway into a room and sat on a bench. Next to us was a box. We were to open the box and see if it had any contents. Mine contained a scarf printed with Beth’s poetry, but I couldn’t read the words.
And then Beth was there. I started hurriedly talking to her but then decided to stop and pay attention! Immediately I saw an image of two women walking arm-in-arm down a ballroom floor, dressed in Victorian style clothing. After that I saw an image of a white horse’s head. Both images gave me the impression that Beth and I have been friends before – that was the reason we had such an easy rapport and felt so close.
And then Beth read the poem that she had written for me.
“True friendship transcends all bounds of time and place.
“The seeds of friendship once planted blossom over many lifetimes.
“Thank you for being my true friend.”
Thank you, my friend. It is an honor to have crossed paths again.