Welcome, friends. I invite you to continue with me as I share my true story and the twists and turns through both the good and difficult times since I wrote Parts One and Two. My original plan was to tell my story in three parts, but I have come to understand that there is more to be told. I invite you to read Part Three and look forward to sharing what is yet to come.
Tragedy struck my family on March 18, 2018. That was the day we found my son Greg dead in his home. At thirty-six, he was too young to leave this earth and his daughter. Our world was crumbling. My daughter, Stephanie, and I clung to each other, sharing our grief. At the time, Greg and Stephanie were living in Florida, while I lived in Connecticut. We buried him in our family plot in East Hampton, Connecticut, a small town surrounded by lakes and known for its fishing—a fitting resting place for a man who loved to fish.
My daughter and I took many walks, wrote in our journals, and planted flowers at the cemetery. Our favorite sightings were, and still are, cardinals, which many believe are symbols of loved ones who have passed. It is said that when a cardinal appears, a loved one may be visiting, especially during times when you need or miss them most. They also seem to make an appearance at celebrations, reminding us that those we have lost are always with us.
There he is, in his royal-red suit! Handsome, clever, and kind.
After Stephanie returned to her home in Florida, I felt all alone. Determined to connect with spirit, I reached out to a medium named Vanessa and made a virtual appointment with her. I hoped she could help me understand and accept the loss of my son. I had experience with psychics, but not mediums.
On the day we met, I felt anxious. We sat face to face, looking at one another through our computer screens before introducing ourselves. Vanessa explained that we would begin with a prayer of thanks, hope, and healing. “I will ask Greg questions that he might answer, and I will tell you what he says.”
“Will you be able to see or visualize my son?” I asked, my lips quivering.
“Perhaps,” Vanessa said softly, adding that, as his mom, I could join in the conversation.
Suddenly, Vanessa began to visualize Greg and describe what she was sensing. My heart was racing as she asked him if the name “Teresa” meant anything to him. She relayed his response: “Yes, we were engaged. My mom didn’t like Teresa.”
“Honey, it wasn’t that I didn’t like her; I couldn’t stand the disrespectful way Teresa treated you,” I replied.
Vanessa described Greg with a half-smile as she relayed his response: “You are right, Mom.”
We spent the rest of our time talking about a variety of topics. Through Vanessa, I learned that Greg lives with my parents in the afterlife and even has a workout room. He is a social guy who makes friends easily. Most importantly, he continues to watch over his daughter, his sister, and his nephews here on Earth, watching over all of us from above like a hawk.
As our time together drew to a close, Greg and I both wanted the conversation to continue, and Vanessa smiled in understanding. She relayed Greg’s words to me:
“I’ve been gone for almost a year, and you have not touched your book. I’m sure the publishers are looking for The Fish Dress. Now I’m doing fine, Mom. If you are happy, I will be happy. I honor and value your life more than you will ever know. I am no longer in pain or burdened by the worries and stresses I carried during my life on Earth. I am free now, Mom, and I am at peace. Knowing that you are living your life and finding happiness would make me happier than anything. Just as you pray for me, I pray for you. I love you, Mom.”
As our connection with Greg came to an end, I felt a kiss on my cheek.
“I love you too, my son.”
Thank you, valued reader, for continuing this journey with me. There is still more of my story to tell, and I look forward to sharing it with you in the next installment. In the meantime, I am happily working on the second edition of The Fish Dress.
Carol A. Parker, Author
