Believing

 Well, I think seeing the medium was a success. I am still processing all that he said and how it all felt and feels as it settles in.

 I was so nervous the whole day before I arrived at the appointment. Not knowing what would happen but imagining whatever happened I would have some big feelings about it. I called my dad on the way down to Long Island and spoke with him about how I was feeling and he was reassuring and helped me feel a little more at ease. I called my sister on my way to the appointment and she made me laugh and that helped too.

 Christopher Allan is 27. He lives in Farmingdale in a small, normal, suburban, Long Island house. He greeted me at the door and we went down to his finished basement which smelled exactly like the Friedman's old basement in East Meadow. We put matching Olympus DVRs on the coffee table between us and he started the session. The first person to show up was an older man who I did not recognize but he later thought may have been my mother-in-law's father. And the first word he needed to say was "Mom". Right there, one fear was put aside. My mother would be addressed in some way.

 Then she was there. For an hour and half, he took cues from her, coming up with specific people and stories like he was laying snap shots on the table for me to recognize or set aside. He brought up so many things. Some things never landed anywhere but most things did.

 One of the first things she brought up was the "adopted child" which would be my sister. Wanting my sister to know she had acknowledged her and that her being in our family was "meant to be".

 And then acknowledging my father. That they were very separated. How he came from Florida to see her, driving a long way and then left before she died. How it meant  a lot to her and was healing for her and for him as well. That she wanted to offer unconditional love to him and "bury the hatchet."

 She acknowledged the one son, the "golden child" which we felt must be Desmond. He felt very clearly that he was to "pre-congratulate" me on a second child. (!)

 HOLY CRAP! Just as I wrote that, the train station on Desmond's train table just did it's sound effect train station announcement! That scared the poop outta me! Baby arriving? Very funny. Especially with my train station analogy about life, huh? Anyway....

 She brought up something about birthdays, having two birthdays or anniversaries at the same time. Two reasons to celebrate, someone in the family's birthdays. My Dad and Desmond have the same birthday.

 Then he asked about the number 3. Where are the 3 children? Where is the son in the three children, the baby? And that would be the baby boy my mom had that lived just a day, a year before I was born. I am one of three.

 He mentioned that my sister had been "rough" on me when we were kids. But then brought up a story about one of us bleaching the others hair and it being a nightmare, which never happened. And that someone had chickens in the back  yard? Cages with birds in the back yard? We thought this might be a reference to my Mom's Dad's pheasants that he kept in big cages in his back yard in Valley Stream a long time ago. Her way of telling him that her father was a character and acknowledging him as well.

 She wanted to talk about my wedding and "the son," Joseph who included her in the ceremony and made her feel a part of the day and how she appreciated it. Joseph had surprised me at our wedding by having his sister Anna, read something my mother had written to me.

 There were more things, there was an hour and half of things she said. There were two strange things that he brought up that made me feel like it would be hard to explain them away.  Both times he said he was not sure if he should bring up what he was thinking because it sounded so weird. He asked me about the house where we lived, if it was empty. He said she was showing him an empty house and that I was dialing the number to the house and no one answers because no one is there but she does, or she sees me do this or hears me. And I do. I have been known to dial our old number, which is not in service, and talk to her on the phone. He said she told him that I did it after Desmond was born. I don't remember if I did but I probably did.  I can picture myself laying in bed with Desmond after I had called everyone else I was supposed to and dialing her number and saying, "Hey, I just had a baby...."

 The other thing was at the very end. He was almost embarrassed to bring it up and he laughed and said, "I can't believe I am going to end a reading with this." He was being shown his middle school French class. The only word he remembered from French was the word for pineapple which is ananana. He asked if there was a reference to a pineapple for someone or if someone is called a pineapple. He could say"Where is my pineapple?" in french. The only reference I had to that word was in a painting I made. Not really a painting, it was a large blown up photograph on a board from an outdoor photography show in Catskill. The gallery owner let me have some of these enormous photographs. This one I had hanging in my house. I had painted over some of the figures so that all that was left was a little girl, holding a pink bunny and reaching up to hold the hand of her mother, but the mother is gone, except for her hand. Beside the mother are two pairs of feet but the bodies have been painted over as well. At the time, when I painted over the figures I figured it was about my family somehow and  about the missing mother. Behind the little girl is a black board with a chalk drawing of a pineapple and in script the word "ananana".

 He was so floored by that story. I don't know why my mom would bring it  up. Maybe just as a specific reference? Maybe she likes the painting? Maybe it bothers her? He asked me to send him a picture of the painting. He thought it was the most random thing and the fact that it made any sense at all was amazing. I guess it is.

 But what helped me most was not all the listing of things and people and stories but when he got quiet for a minute and said, "You know she's not mad at you, right?" That was what I wanted to hear, without knowing it. That was all I wanted to know. He went on to say that if there was any reason for me to think that she was mad at me, she wants me to know she is not. She apologized for making me feel that way if she did. There was nothing more I could have done for her. That I was her "rock". And how impressed she was with me then and is now. That I am a great mom. That she was there for the birth of Desmond. That she sees the renovating of our house and all that we have been doing. That she feels nothing but unconditional love for me and is "eager" to be part of my life. She hopes I can see her as someone to talk to.

 The heaviness and sadness I feel is not doing anyone any good and she hopes I can lift it up and let it go. That it is getting in the way of our connecting today. She wants to continue the relationship we had.

 He said that her passing was "part of the plan" and the thing that has tested my spiritual life the most and opened me up.

 After she had left, I asked him where she was exactly. He said his sense of the "other side" is that it is another plane and it is where we originate from and where we return to when we die. That there we are all equal, no one is better than anyone else. That there are spiritual levels and it is like school and we are hear to learn and we learn there too. That it is a place of love. That she is not up in the sky or in the clouds but that she is right here. That we sort of share the same space almost. That's how he made it sound.

 When I asked him how I could do a better job at connecting with her he suggested meditating. Not trying too hard. Knowing that there is just love between us and everything is okay.

 I felt good when I left. The moon was so bright and full when I got out of the car. The clock in my car said 5:55.

 I called Joseph, I called my sister. I got back to Maureen and Howie's and told them about it. That night after dinner the three of us sat at the table and listened to the recording together. It felt different listening again. Worrying what Maureen and Howie would think, if they would believe it or not. Hearing how it could seem like he had gotten things wrong and how he took the long road to get around to the things that were right. I felt a little deflated.

 I listened again on the way home last night in my car in the dark while Desmond slept in the back seat. And I was impressed again by the information he came up with. And whether or not is is "true" that he was talking with my mom, that he said what I needed to hear and that he was right. I need to let the heaviness go.

 I think what it comes down to is making a decision to believe. I can talk myself out of it. Maybe nothing will be enough proof for me for me to be certain of her existing somewhere else. Maybe it doesn't matter. If I can make a decision to believe, maybe I can make a decision to let go too.

 In the last couple of days, I have felt a little lighter of spirit. I sort of feel forgiven. I also feel forgiving. I am trying to rethink or replace where my mother is in relation to myself. Folding the blankets on the bed today, one that she made, one that my grandmother made, one that I made, I talked to her about how much I love those blankets and one at my grandfather's house that my grandmother made that I covet. Maybe I will become one of those people who talk to themselves out loud all the time. That might be okay.

 As I was writing this, Joseph was in the other room listening to the recording. I asked him what he thinks so far. He is not sure, but seems to be leaning towards the skeptic side. Maybe I should not have let anyone else listen to the recording. Maybe it is very different being a room with someone giving you a reading than it is listening to a recorded reading, I don't know.  It shouldn't matter what other people think I guess. I hope I can  hold onto what felt real to me and what was comforting about the experience. Time will tell. But when someone you don't know seems to know you've been calling your dead mother on the phone. That's sort of weird. Don't you think?