What Happens When We Die?

“There once was a girl who found herself dead.
She peered over the ledge of heaven
and saw that back on earth
her sister missed her too much,
was way too sad,
so she crossed some paths
that would not have crossed,
took some moments in her hand
shook them up
and spilled them like dice
over the living world.
It worked.
The boy with the guitar collided
with her sister.
“There you go, Len,” she whispered. “The rest is up to you.”
~ Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere

 

Welcome to the third post in my Wednesday series on death and dying.

Last week I talked about the end stage of life, and what you might expect as a loved one or carer. Today, I’d like to discuss the moments after death, and what happens for the person who died.

Let’s start with Antoinette, a friend of mine who lost her life to breast cancer at age forty-two, leaving behind a loving husband and two little girls. Antoinette had battled cancer for a number of years. She was the first friend who ever contacted me after she died. Let me share her story…

 

Antoinette

When Antoinette’s time came, it came quickly and she went downhill very fast.  She did not want to die in a hospital, so her family brought Antoinette home, arranged for medical care, and went about their lives with her firmly in the midst of it all.

My friend had been ravaged by cancer. She was bald, skeletal, and frail as a bird, with a hugely bloated stomach and a deep pallor. As I sat holding her hand in the days before her death, my friend would whisper to me about what she was experiencing as she faded in and out of consciousness.  It was very beautiful, she said, and her Dad had come to help her (he had died some years before)  but she was very afraid.  There was a beautiful garden and people dancing, and she really wanted to join them there.  She was tired and couldn’t keep fighting, but she felt so guilty to be leaving her family when her job with them wasn’t finished. 

As her body began to shut down Antoinette’s words became slurred and incomprehensible to others, but I could still hear her voice as loud and clear as a bell. Her mum and husband would come into the room, and her physical aura would immediately strengthen as she tried to be strong and stay with them.  When they left the room her physical aura became instantly weaker and her etheric aura (her soul energy) grew bright again.

The day of her death a strong pink and gold light descended upon Antoinette, and the whole room was filled with a Divine presence.  I don’t often work with Angels or people who have passed over but my friend’s room became filled with Angels that I could physically see.  As soon as they arrived she began the journey of letting go, and became more and more peaceful.

We all gave Antoinette constant attention and love, and told her that it was okay for her to go to the Light.  My friend was leaving a young family behind, and she resisted death with every breath while the living were in the room with her.  Finally a beautiful moment allowed her to begin the process of finally letting go.

I saw the spirit of a charming man, perhaps in his forties, just as if he was really in the room with us.  I couldn’t hear him, but Antoinette could.  “Dad’s here”, my friend whispered, but she was also distressed – she knew her life was coming to an end.  I had never met Antoinette’s father, and did not know what he looked like.  When I described the man I saw later to her mother without saying who I thought he was, she said – “oh yes, that’s my husband’’.  He’d been much older when he died, but he appeared to Pinkie at an age when he was strong and handsome.

 

Then the spirit of an older woman turned up – my Guides explained that she was a relative from Antoinette’s husband’s family – who had died before Antoinette or her husband were even born.  Her presence soothed family members, even though they could not see or hear her, and did not know she was there.  I watched this older woman standing unseen to all but me in the energy field of Antoinette’s husband, strengthening and supporting him, and witnessed the most moving scene as he then began to recall how he and Antoinette had met, and some of the special moments in their lives together.

Hours before Antoinette’s death, the spirit of a physically stunning blonde young woman turned up by her left side.  Antoinette’s eyes widened in amazement and delight.  “My friend’s here, my beautiful friend.  I don’t believe it.  She’s here!” cried my dying friend.  I watched this beautiful girl lean over Antoinette’s broken body and stroke her cheek, whispering to her, and as she did this Antoinette’s physical aura became paler and paler and her breathing laboured.  Then her etheric aura completely disengaged and floated to the top of the room, held by the most slender and delicate silvery cord.  I left then and went home, so that my friend could share her final moments in privacy with her family.

Even though I knew Antoinette was meant to be leaving us, and would be well guided and looked after, I was very upset at losing my friend, and found it hard to sleep that night.  Just after I finally dozed off I was woken by a bright light in my bedroom, which was filled with the fragrance of sweet flowers. My beloved friend was standing at the end of my bed in a pink dress, and with raven hair down to her waist held by a jewelled head band.  She looked years younger and radiantly beautiful.

“Thank you, Nicole,” said my friend, smiling widely.  “I’m okay, and I understand everything.”  She then gave me some short messages for her Mum, husband and family.

I heard from the family the next morning that Antoinette had passed away ten minutes before I saw her.

A girlfriend rang later that day to see how Antoinette was.  I told her of our friend’s passing, and the things I had experienced with her before her death.  This girlfriend had gone to school with Antoinette and knew her very well.  From my description she immediately identified the girl who had come to Antoinette’s bedside as a childhood friend who had died tragically in the company of Antoinette when they were just eighteen.

My girlfriend asked if I would be prepared to share what I had seen with the family of the girl who had died so many years ago.  I was able to share my experiences with that girl’s family, who took great comfort from the fact that I had seen their long-lost daughter and sister, and that the girls were together again, looking after each other. A photo they showed me matched the girl that I had seen exactly.

I’ll share with you with the final thing Antoinette said to me on the night of her death as she stood at the foot of my bed.  “Don’t worry Nicole.  God is everywhere.  It all makes sense when you get here.  It’s really okay, and so am I.  I love you.  Tell them all it’s okay.  It’s all just love.”

 

And here’s another reassuring story, although this one is very different.

Angela

When my friend Angela died, in the early hours of the morning, her spirit stayed in the hospital room for a long time afterwards. At first it was hard for her to believe that she was truly dead. There was quite a period of adjustment for her until she could finally feel a deep love for herself, and for her body. In life she had never felt beautiful, or good enough. In death she looked down upon herself and her loved ones and felt only love.

As dawn approached she slipped out of the room, and understood that with her thoughts she could travel freely. She gave me a running commentary as she travelled from the confines of the palliative care ward in Lismore. Angela spoke with joy about what it was to feel free. The world was so beautiful. She flew back over her home, and visited her dogs and her garden. She flew down to the coast to watch the sun come up over the lighthouse in Byron Bay. She could see dolphins! She could see so far, and the dawning morning was one of the most precious gifts she ever received. She was euphoric.

Angela’s spirit came backwards and forwards to our realm until her funeral a few days later. She was calm, joyful and completely at peace in a way she had never been in life.

Image by micahkiter

Image by micahkiter (The link takes you to great drone footage of the Byron Bay Lighthouse)

 

And this final story is of a stranger.

The Motorbike Man

I witnessed a terrible road accident a few years ago, involving a motorbike. It had just happened when we came upon it. There had been two people on the bike, but I only saw an empty helmet, and a rider who still wore his helmet, but who was horribly injured. As I sat in the car in the middle of the traffic jam, waiting for the emergency responders, a man in motorbike leathers came to the open window of our car. He asked me to help his friend. I poured all my love into the injured man, and prayed for him. I called upon his Guides and Angels and Ancestors. I prayed for the paramedics who were working on him, and I asked for the outcome for the Highest Good for all.

It was only much later that I found out the young man I’d been speaking to had actually died in that accident, and he’d stayed because he wanted to make sure that his friend would live. By an uncanny twist of fate I later met this friend again, at a cafe in Brisbane. You can read more about that here.

 

In every instance that I have sat with the dying, and with their body afterwards, their soul has left their physical body and stayed for at least a short while with their loved ones here, or taken a final tour of important places.

Wherever our soul travels to after this life, I know that we reunite with loved ones who have already passed, and that we feel nothing but radiant joy, love and calm. We return to love and we are never alone.

Whenever I have communicated with souls after their passing they have been at peace. Anger goes. Shame goes. Fear goes. Pain goes. All that is left is love.

Image from tatamom78 at www.photobucket.com

Image from tatamom78 at www.photobucket.com

I also know that love gives us ability to reconnect with and visit our loved ones in small ways, once we are no longer in a body.

Haven’t you ever felt the presence and love of someone dear to you who has died? We might not talk about it often, but it is a common occurrence.

I certainly don’t have all the answers to the mysteries of life and death, but I have seen so much that goes beyond what was ever taught to me or held as true around death and dying that I cannot but believe that we go on, that love goes on, and that love is all there is.

 

 

Thanks for reading. Next week I’ll be talking about suicide and also about grief. If you have any questions you’d like me to cover in this series, please contact me here on the blog or at cauldronsandcupcakes@gmail.com

Wherever you are, go in peace today, and know that you are in my thoughts, prayers and meditations. I’m wishing you well. I’m sending you love,

Nicole❤ xoxo

Some Early Reflections on Death

“Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there’s a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.”
~ Helen Keller

 

Hello, friends. Welcome to my Wednesday series on Death and Dying.

This week, I’ll kick off the series by discussing some of my own first experiences of death. I’m choosing to start here because I see life and death quite differently to many people – and I always have. Perhaps this is because I am a psychic, and was born this way. Some of my knowing though, has happened by witnessing events that have thrown traditional views of life and death out the window – because these events have not supported the traditional views, and yet they happened. These events support  my belief that life and the place that is beyond this current life we are living is something  complex and beautiful. I believe that we continue to exist beyond this life. And I know that love goes on forever.

We’re all going to die. Some of us soon. Some of us not for years. But none of us are getting out of this world alive. Death’s something we will all know, for our loved ones and for ourselves. I hope you find these experiences I share comforting.

 

When I was a very small child I found life very confusing.

I thought that we were all dead, actually. Or asleep. Trapped in a dream. Living in a fish bowl. Life didn’t seem quite real. I kept trying to make sense of it. Each night I went to bed and expected that I would wake up back in my proper place. My real life.

Instead, each morning I would wake up and here I was. Still ‘alive’. But not the life that I remembered. The only comforting thing for me was that I also remembered other snippets of dreams (or being dead?) where I was living in a different time, and a different place, with mostly different people. I had several fragments of other dreams I had lived. They were as clear to me as movies, and the details never changed. In one of them I lived in a grand two-storey house made of stone, near an old castle. There was a big circular driveway for the carriages, and stables down behind the household gardens where all the horses lived. I had loved that place so much. I’d been very happy there.

There was another place, or may it was the same place, where upside-down coracles were used as buildings. I remember walking to see them in the fields, and the wind being cold and sharp. I knew the word ‘coracle’ and I knew that it was a boat. Some funny people put their boats upside down and turned them into houses. I told my mum this and drew her a picture, but she told me I was being silly. Then she told me only fairies would live in a house like that, because it was imaginary. Fairies were imaginary too, my mum said. She’d only believed in them when she was little. Eventually I stopped sharing my ‘silly stories’.

I knew, deep in my bones, that adults talking about death and being dead were wrong. Especially the ones who were frightened of death, or who believed that when you died there was nothing. That you just ceased to exist. No, I thought. That’s when you wake up again. That’s when you are home.

These are strange thoughts for a child who has not yet gone to school, or watched television, or read books about bigger concepts of the world. Or gone to church.

coracle house

Image from www.contours.co.uk PS – Mum, see, people DO live in them and they are real!!!

 

As an adult I have met other ‘strange children’ who have strong memories of previous lives or other times and places. You can click on the links to read the full story of each one.

There was the baby who kept staring at me in a cafe. He and his parents were strangers, and I’d never spoken to them. This baby communicated psychically with me, and I was overwhelmed with a series of images of two very young boys – twins – on a farm. There was an accident with a gun and one boy died. That boy had now ‘come back’ as a baby to be with his brother. I shared the information with the father, who -after initially being very angry with me – confirmed all of my information. It was emotional and traumatic, but when the information was shared both the baby and the father became deeply peaceful.

Then there was the little girl, Beth, who insisted that her mother bring her to see me. I had ‘seen’ this little girl before she was born, as a bright bubble of light in her mum’s aura. Beth’s mum had major fertility issues  and had not expected to become pregnant, but then she did and Beth was born. I’d never met Beth, but she knew me straight away. And she had news. Her brother William was coming to be born too. Her brother who was always being her brother. Of course, some time later he did come.

Kevin was a normal little boy until somewhere around the age of five, when he began screaming every time the family car drove under a long overpass or entered a tunnel. The first time this happened his hysteria was so severe that he actually passed out and needed to be taken to hospital. His mum brought him to see me after drugs and psychotherapy had failed to take away this little boy’s terror of tunnels. This wasn’t the only strange thing though. Kevin remembered very clearly being called ‘John’ and having another family with a different mummy. He also remembered how he had died in a previous life. A tunnel had collapsed during the London bombings when he was a little boy. His family had taken shelter there during an air raid. Kevin’s mum researched the things that Kevin told us during their session with me, and they checked out. Kevin had to be telling the truth. He was only five. How could he have made all of that up?

 

I have too many other stories to list here, but I’ll include one more. An adult this time, who contacted me after his sudden death, in order to save his daughter’s life. If death were a final ending, how could this happen? How could he contact me? How could what he told me save his child? The story is too long to recount here, but you can read all the details at this link: The Power of a Father’s Love

2016-11-09-09-31-47

Thanks for reading. Next week I’ll be talking about how to care for and be with people who are at the end stage of their life. If you have any questions you’d like me to cover in this series, please contact me here on the blog or at cauldronsandcupcakes@gmail.com

Holding you in my thoughts, prayers and meditations, Nicole <3 xx

Alice’s Lifelong Invisible Friend

Image from Meltys

Image from Meltys

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery The Little Prince

Alice is the oldest person to have ever sought out my services as a psychic.  She came to see me late last year, at age 98, driven to my house by her grand-daughter Donna.

After she was settled, and her family had gone off for a drive to give her some privacy, Alice gravely informed me that she needed some spiritual advice before she died. Could I work with someone who had already lived their life and was right at the end of their time here?

“Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “Let’s just do what I would ordinarily do in one of my sessions, and we’ll see what comes up.”

We sat at the table where I work, and I held Alice’s frail hands in mine, closed my eyes, bowed my head, and offered up a prayer for the Highest Good. Then I sat quietly for a moment

It is wonderful to work with the elderly, and anyone drawing close to the end of their time here on earth.  Their lives stretch out richly before them, and the connection to the spiritual world is always strong and immediate.

Immediately I got a name, ‘Agnes’, and sensed that she was one of Alice’s guides. It was the most powerful and immediate connection, as if Agnes was right here beside us.

When I opened my eyes and looked up at Alice, so that we could begin our session, her soft grey eyes held mine. There was a bright curiosity there.

I explained how I start my session, with the prayer and the connection, and that I then opened myself up to any first impressions.  I told her about Agnes, and how strong her presence was.

Then we sat for over an hour, as I shared information about Alice’s aura, and why she had chosen to come to this life.  We discussed love and family, and I was able to give her clarity about some of the incidents and relationships that she was still trying to come to terms with after nearly a century of life.

Finally, as the session was coming to an end, Alice became quite teary, and told me she had a terrible confession. I couldn’t imagine what it could be – Alice has led a good life, filled with caring for others, kindness and love.

“I have an imaginary friend,” she whispered through her tears. “She’s been my friend since I was little. I’m always talking to her, and sometimes at night in my room, after everyone else is asleep, she comes to visit me, and she sits on my bed.”

oh baby3clearlyvintage

I didn’t say anything, just reached across so I could hold her hand.

She laughed. “I must be a bit funny in the head,” she said. “And there’s one other thing… My whole life I have felt lonely on the inside, like something precious is missing. I have no right to feel like this.  My parents were very loving, and I had tremendous brothers. I had a happy marriage and my own two girls and their families have been very good to me. And I had plenty of friends, although, of course, they are all gone now.”

“And your sister,” I prompted. “You must have been very close to your sister.”

Alice looked at me strangely, and the energy between us suddenly became very uncomfortable. “I never had a sister,” she said crankily. “You’re very much mistaken.”

We moved back to safer ground, and I answered the last of her questions, and then her grand-daughter arrived back at my house and Alice and I said goodbye.

Alice’s grand-daughter knocked on my door last night, to let me know that the old lady had died peacefully in her sleep on the weekend. Donna had sat with her grandmother for the last few days of her life, and Alice had been conscious and lucid til the last.  Alice was insistent that Donna contact me after her death.

Donna had a large envelope with her, and she took out the contents to show me. In it were photocopies of some old documents. One was the death certificate of Alice’s mother.  It clearly showed that she had given birth to three sons and then after a gap of six years, two twin girls, Alice and Agnes.

My skin prickled with recognition. Agnes… The presence I had felt so strongly in the room with us that day.

There was also a death certificate for Agnes, who had died at age four from scarlet fever.  The family had lived in a small town in Outback Queensland. Donna had discovered that her great grandmother and Agnes were buried in a family plot in that small town.  She was now planning to go out there to find their graves.

longreach, food, harry etc 107

Alice had told Donna all about her session with me on the drive back to her nursing home, and Donna had then diligently visited the State Archives to see what she could learn of her family history.

She had found the information weeks before her grandmother passed away, and Donna told me it had given her grandmother much peace.

Alice’s family had never spoken of Agnes, and Alice had grown up believing that Agnes truly was imaginary. She had learned from a very early age not to speak of Agnes, but had maintained that love and connection with her twin sister for her whole life.

We both cried, and hugged, and as she left, Donna withdrew another small envelope from her bag. “This is for you, from Gran,” she said.

I opened it after she left. In a spidery hand, Alice had written me a short note. In part, it said Thank you for restoring the missing part of my heart.

Last night I lay in bed and thought of my own beautiful grandparents who have now all passed away, and some dear friends whose lives ended too early.  I felt the weight of all their love. And it made me smile to think of Alice and Agnes, together again, and catching up on a lifetime’s worth of being apart.

Love truly is a force powerful beyond all we can imagine.