Mother and Child Reunion: Part 3 of alternate communication


Etruscan_mother_and_child_500_to_450_BCE (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve been documenting my journey into communication with ‘the other side’.  This is the third part of the story and my personal favourite, because it shows just to what extent Love will go, to get its point across.

If you’d like to read the story so far, part 1 can be found at this link  My Left Knee and part 2 was in a post called Dowsing with Death .

As I’ve explained, in some incredible way my friend Nina managed to get in touch with me several years after her death, in order alert me to problems within her family.

Initially, the communication was rather stilted, due to the limited range of symbols I was able to dowse.  It quickly occurred to me that if I could dowse symbols, I should be able to use letters to spell out her responses.

“Like some kind of Ouija board,” a friend commented after she’d read my last post on this subject.
Well yes, and it became even more so once I’d drawn myself out an alphabet board and become more skilled at following the pendulum as it wheeled about, stopping and rotating to mark the end of each word.

A modern ouija board plus planchette

Did I have doubts about whether this was really happening?  Absolutely.  Most of the time, in fact.  I’d often try to find ways of proving to myself that it was genuine.  I recall asking about a relative of hers – a lady whose name I’d heard once or twice but couldn’t remember.  When the crystal swung to spell out the lady’s name, I had a ‘yes, of course/Oh my God this is true!!’ moment, but still the doubts wouldn’t quite go away.

Something was about to happen, though, that would clear me of any lingering questions about the validity of this communication.  I was about to be given the most incontrovertible proof.


We need to return to one of Nina’s children.  This lad, now in his teens, was not doing too well.  He’d taken his mother’s death badly and had been punishing himself for it ever since it had happened.

Yes, I know it was cancer and not in any way his fault, but children have a habit of blaming themselves for all manner of bad things that happen in their lives.  This was made worse in this boy’s case by the fact that during her final weeks, he’d been unable to bring himself to speak or respond to his mother at all.  Knowing, as a small child, that his mother was dying, he’d decided to see if he could block her out of his life – a sort of trial run at bereavement.

When he was told that she was very close to death, he asked his father to take him to the hospice so that he could say goodbye and tell her he loved her.  The tragic thing was, by the time he got there, she appeared to have sunk into a coma, and was unable to respond to him.  She died the next day.

Well you can imagine the guilt that youngster was carting around with him, believing that his mother died not knowing he loved her.

By now I’d joined a spiritual development circle and was starting to take a strong interest in this new life that was opening up before me.

After a few weeks, I confided in the group leader, telling her about my abilities and explaining that I wished I could find some way of reassuring Nina’s son that he’d done nothing wrong.
“I know she was able to hear him that day,” I said.  “She literally hung on until he’d felt ready to talk to her, then she left.”

“Well what are you waiting for?” she exclaimed.  “Don’t you see what you can do now?  Why do you think you’ve been given this gift, for goodness’ sake?”

I listened, dumbfounded, as she explained that I needed to go home, connect with Nina, ask her to dictate everything that had happened on the day her son had visited, type it out neatly and present it to the child.

This had never occurred to me and to start with I had some resistance to the idea.  It was the most private of conversations.  I’d feel like an eavesdropper.

Rolling her eyes, my tutor almost pushed me out of the door.  “So don’t keep a copy!  Just write it, seal it in an envelope and put that poor kid out of his misery.”


So I did exactly as she’d said.  The message was incredibly detailed.  Nina described everything the child had said and done.  She even spoke of hearing the boy’s father knock on the door and ask whether he was okay.

We’d never worked on such a long message.  When I’d finished, I thanked her, typed it up and sealed it in an envelope, destroying my rough draft.

That weekend, I called her son and said I had something to give him.  To my surprise, he agreed immediately to meet me.

As gently as I could, I explained the background and the reason his mother and I had made this letter.  He was already aware that I had been in contact with his mum, but had never taken much apparent interest in her messages.  On this occasion he grinned indulgently.

“What’s she been saying now?” he smiled.A drawing of an envelope

I handed him the envelope, telling him to be ready for a shock.

He read it through carefully.  Then he turned aside.

I will never forget the look on that young boy’s face.  I know his life changed on that day, and so did mine.