I ran in to get a few items before heading home tonight. It was a long day and I was on the phone to a friend when I looked at the cashier with her back turned toward. Someone was trying to come through. Was it the African American lady who looked distressed at the end of the isle waiting? Was it the guy who was trying to check out next to me whose card would not go through. Funny, I looked at him and knew something was amiss. Something was not right with him, it was his finances and he was going through some girlfriend stuff but not enough to approach him and say, I know what is happening with you. His debit card would not go through, after three times. If I said something, He would seriously think I was crazy, just like the cashier did after I did say something.. Well, Grandpa finally showed up. He was standing behind Chelsey. I asked the check out lady Chelsey, “Is your Grandfather dead?” She point blank looked at me and said, “I don’t discuss my personal life with complete strangers.” I said, ” I’m sorry, my name is Mary Beth and I am a psychic and I have to tell you that your Grandfather is standing behind you. It should be a verification to you that you do have someone watching over you. He is heavy set, with greyish hair, dark eyes, dark features, hails from up north where he lived. NY I asked with a question mark? She shook her head. I forgot I was in Nantucket, as far north as you could get.
I said, he was Italian, and she corrected me saying that he was Portuguese. I offered my apologies because usually when I see a dark features, I see Italian, ethnic inequity to say the least. It was what I correlated it with.
She was still standoffish. On the way out the door, she did confirm both of her grandparents were indeed dead. Duh, i knew that.
What can you do to make someone believe what you see? You can’t. But when you offer what you know, sometimes it makes you want to just reel it in, and not offer the knowledge you have.
I walked by my bedroom to find a 30 something year old man sitting on the edge of my bed with his hands on his knees. I saw him. he saw me. poof, he was gone. I guess he was waiting on me to find his loved ones so that he could move on. There is something in my apartment moving around, besides the little black cat I see out of the corner of my eye, which I believe is my cat Medusa who passed years ago.
Until I meet the person who is missing the 30 ish something good looking man, I can’t help him move on. I really don’t like spirits to be in my personal space. It happens though. I have to tell them to leave. I just did.
Most spirits wait in line to talk to me to relay a message. This little boy was third in line. First were two sisters. Harry was a little boy that was very sickly as a child. he couldn’t go out to play or else he would get winded. I met Harry when he showed up with his white soccer sort of ball with triangles on it. He came to find out why Joe his good and only friend as a child, left him alone. He was not in a good place. This was over 35 years ago that he died. Turns out Harry was very sick, as I saw him put his hand over his mouth. Usually when a spirit does this, it means he had trouble breathing or he suffocated, eluding me to cystic fibrosis. Harry died when he was 13 or so he told me. I saw two numbers, 9 and 13. He was 9 when he and Joe became friends. 13 was when he died.
I told Joe to talk to harry, to tell him, his mother would not let him out to play and so he couldn’t play with him. Adults do horrible things to children’s minds. Harry’s father was not a nice person either. Always sporting dark dark rings under his eyes, gave the impression that Harry’s father beat him. He did.
A tragic ending for a little boy with a ball seeking his only one true friend. I was the gift he needed to relay his message and move on, into the light. Now Harry can find other children to play with.
I also asked Joe to tell Harry he was sorry that he couldnt be there for him. Harry, turned away and started walking into the light. That was all he needed to hear to move on, an explanation. Sometimes, that is all it takes to find peace.
How did Joe know I was talking about Harry? I described him to him, what he looked like. The age, the time frame in Joe’s life, where Harry lived.
They showed up, this am along with a little boy. The little boy and his ball is another story. The two ladies patiently walk around the small condo, moving things as they see fit, talking amongst themselves, discovering stuff in their sister’s closet that she had kept all those years since they passed. They are there to get Rose acquainted with the other side and to visit. Rose has not seen them in many many years since they died.
I called Rose’s son, Joe. I told him, his aunts were hanging out in his mothers condo. He said, “oh yeah? tell me what hair color does the older one have?” I said dark dark brunette, straight. The other one had strawberry beige hair, bottled. I heard a gasp come out of his mouth.
I also said your older Aunt is saying how your mother has her brooch in her things. She has many of her brooches she used to wear. Also, I see brown beige shoes. The shoes were part of a dress Rose’s sister wore. Rose kept it in her bureau.
I also said, there are memento’s in a box, either on her dresser or in a closet or drawer.
You can’t argue with the dead. They are always right. I am only the messenger of what they tell me to say to the living.
They are waiting on Rose. It is not her time, but they wanted to make their presence known.
Oh, I also told Joe about the bump in the older sister’s nose.
I am such a beacon for them. I can always tell when they are near, coming, and they know when I am coming to town to a house or to do a reading on a person. They know well in advance, contacting me sometimes, weeks before hand.
Just this morning, the room became ice cold, and I was in the presence of a spirit. If they are not of God and his loving white light, they immediately vanish, because i am.
I have a host of spirits that play like a rolodex in my head, faces of people who have passed over but who have a message to carry to the loved ones on this side. I don’t even know their names it is so many. How do you help so many spirits when I don’t have the names of their loved ones? In God’s time.
He asked what I saw when I looked at him, what I saw for him. I walked around to find him in his den, a modern plush living area in Savannah GA full of GA bulldog banners, and guitars. Suddenly, I was stopped by someone who was a part of his “family”. He was there. I asked Bobby who was the person who took their own life. That was all it took. He jumped three feet off the couch as I told him what I saw. Crocodile tears later, the comment of how this woman knew what she knew, that she knew more than she should, rang throughout his house during filming of his show. His phone call the next day to talk to me…communication ceased since then. Why are people afraid of what I see? They shouldn’t be. I see it, they don’t. I am just the messenger who needs to deliver a message of closure or of hope from the other side or simply a message of I am sorry for the pain I caused you in this life.
Then the producer came over for a reading.
I may be walking down the street and see you. I see more than just you. I see the people behind you, beside you that have treaded the path with you since you were born. These are friends, relatives all wanting to deliver a message. I can’t bring myself to stopping you on the street for fear you will only think I am a crazy woman. If you only knew what I saw, you would stop me to ask.
I had passed out. Call it a near death experience. The golden light infront of me. As I moved closer to it, he pops out, standing in my way. So real in fact that I could see the tendons in his wings. He was a golden bronze, black eyes, wearing a sheath, all gilded in a golden bronze color. His hair was that of black gilded bronze as well. No words were spoken but I heard his name, Michael. He was on the left hand side, not letting me pass into the light. I was not done yet.
I saw him again, this time, a death dream for me. He holds out his hand, and I slip out my sick body as the dead skin falls away from me. I am younger with my hand sliding into his. A smile on his face.
And yet, I saw him two more times. I am not the only person who has seen the Arch Angel Michael. He was in a statue from across a room at an auction done by a french artist in the 1800’s. I didn’t need the sculpture to remind me of what he looked like but to know it was him from across the room was uncanny, It was the angel that appeared to me.
Why me…is the question.
I asked the priest, is there an angel named Michael after my first encounter. He proceeded to tell me, yes, the Arch Angel Michael. I never knew about him until I met him.
Rock Creek park, is what I saw when Chandra Levy was missing. Had I told anyone, they would have thought I was either crazy, part of the mystery or knew something ominous. Rocks, a creek and a trees with leaves, a park. I also saw the man responsible and still do.
Black Brown leather jacket, dark hair, short, slicked back, about 6’1, square build with pointed nose, a hitman. Weightlifting in his spare time. Carries gun on his right hip holster. Was a former police man, a dirty cop. He was hired by the person who was discovered in the affair, actually a collaboration of two people.