One of the interesting things about receiving spirit greetings from mediums at The Harmony Grove Spiritualist Association is that often the psychics will give me messages from my father but not my mother. None of these people know me personally, so they have no way of knowing if my parents are alive or not. I'm fifty four and many people have lost their parents by the time they are my age, but not everyone has lost only one parent and the mediums have picked up on this.
Not once has a medium sent a message from my mother and that is entirely appropriate because my mother is still alive. And I get goose pimples just thinking about the possibility that I am really hearing from my dad again. He passed away from prostate cancer in 2010. Although he was abusive to me, when I saw him lying on that hospital bed in his office, gasping for breath and staring vacantly at the ceiling, I forgave him everything.
Rushing to his side, I grabbed his already stiff hand. With tears streaming down my face, I talked to him. I honestly don't even remember what I said. That would be the last time I'd ever lay eyes on him, although he didn't cross over until exactly a week later, seven days after his eightieth birthday.
Today I had an experience that convinced me I'd heard from him. While he wasn't there for me much when I was young, I have the impression that he's learned the lessons he needed to know about being a compassionate father on the other side.
Recently, a medium said that he wanted to pat me on the back to comfort me. I'm not surprised because at the time I was being abused by yet another man. The root of my discord with men is based on the unhappy relationship I had with my father. I imagine now that he is wiser. He must feel awfully guilty.
Since breaking up with my abuser, I have had conflicting feelings. He was a doctor and sometimes wrote prescriptions for me and even paid for the medication. But I believe he was manipulating me and when he finally dumped me in July, I felt a little bit happy and a little bit scared. I had been depending emotionally on him for so long, I didn't think I could get by on my own. But now that I've had time for clarity, I realize I am better off without him. I am at peace when before, all I could feel was chaos.
So why then, couldn't I sleep? Why did I toss and turn and fret? Why did I wake up with tears on my eyelashes from crying in my sleep and scared to death because of the nightmares I was having?
After digging deep, I realized I was worried about his patients. They are indigent and have cancer and rely on him for treatment. I wouldn't let him touch me or anyone in my family. So how could I live with myself if I didn't let the Medical Board know what I knew about him?
He had already been disciplined for having a reckless disregard for the welfare of his patients and dishonesty. So I don't think my complaint would be considered far fetched. But I have been involved in personal growth lately and have realized that probably because I've been abused, I have a need to control everybody and everything around me.
I didn't want to lash out at the doctor because I was angry at him for the way he treated me. If I had faith in the Divine Spirit, I would leave the matter in His hands and trust that He would deal with the matter appropriately, It is a very hard thing to do when you feel you might never get justice. I have to tell you honestly, I want the guy to burn.
But that is not the way of a spiritually enriched person. I must show my faith. So after much prayer and meditation, I was comforted by the sudden thought that Spirit put in my head:
It is okay to tell the Medical Board on him in order to protect his patients. It is not okay to tell on him to get revenge.
I was instantly relieved. I sat down and wrote a letter to the Board on behalf of my late father whose own pain was managed ineffectively by Elizabeth Hospice. I felt his spirit with me with every word I typed. I wondered where the obituary was that my mother had purchased from an online store. It was a blue card encased in plastic with his picture taken when he was a young Marine. It told about his life and how he had received a Master's degree in engineering from UCLA.
When my mother gave it to me at his memorial service, I felt grief stricken and couldn't bear to look at it. I slipped it into a drawer at home and forgot where I had put it.
But now that I felt his spirit with me, urging me to fight for the good care of cancer patients everywhere, I wanted to see it again. I was ready to face the past with a different perspective. His young handsome face would inspire me to continue on, despite the possible consequences that might lay ahead.
What if the Board didn't believe my story? What if they continued to allow him to take responsibility for patients whose lives are already hopeless? How could I possibly live with that knowing what he had done to me?
This morning, I mailed the letter and felt empowered. I cannot control what the Board does, an angel told me, I can only control what I do. And that was enough because I felt the wonderful relief that comes with doing the right thing.
I sat down at my desk and opened a drawer. I decided to clean it out so I could get more organized. As I lifted some scraps of paper and a couple of computer cards, I almost let out a gasp. My dad's memorial card popped right out of the clutter and lay on the bottom of the drawer!
I held it in both hands and thanked the Divine Mother, Father, God. I know it was sent with loving energy because I could feel it vibrating in my hands. I felt comforted and grateful because I had no idea where to even start to look for it. Thank you, my all-mighty Creator and thank you, Dad.