Kimberly's New Blog: Beautiful Movements

Psychics, do you believe?

With no expectations, an open mind, and a tinge of nervousness, I entered the light lavender room filled with amethyst crystals, and floral décor. I took a seat in a chair at a desk directly across from the welcoming smile of an older woman and immediately felt at ease. My inner dialogue that was once racing with questions slowly came to a soft murmur as the session began.

Rebecca revealed interesting facts she seemed to pluck from open air that left me feeling astonished. My eyes widened in anticipation as she guided the experience through a journey of the unknown. “A very strong presence has entered the room,” Rebecca said. “Do you know someone that died at a young age?” Flashbacks flashed through my head leaving me with nothing. “No, I don’t think so,” I replied. “Do you know a Don?” she asked. I sat in shock for a moment as I took in the name. “Yes I do,” I revealed.

As a child we perceive the adults around us as being much older then we do once we become adults ourselves. To me as a child Don was an older man. With a new perspective overtaking my reality, Don was quite young when he passed away in his early forties. Don was my brother’s Father. With three kids and a whole life ahead of him he fought hard against cancer. Diagnosed with a cancerous tumor in his brain the Doctors gave him six months to live. A year and a half of morphine, hospitals, and torturous tremors followed. He finally couldn’t take it any more and joined the light that beckoned him.

“He watches over you and your finances.” Rebecca said. “He is a very strong presence in your life.” “Tell your brother, his Dad thinks he’s doing a wonderful job as a Father and he is very proud of him.” “He also wants to thank you for being there and helping him during his last months of life, it meant the world to him.” At this point I’m not sure how not to believe. How could she know all of this? “Will you ask him if he played the song from his funeral in the truck after my first audition for cruise ships?” Before I could even finish my sentence she replied, “Yes he did”.

I always wondered how King of the Road by Roger Miller, a song from the 60’s, could possibly be playing on the radio at such an influential time in my life. It was my first audition for my professional dance career after graduating early from high school. At 17 I flew myself to Las Vegas to audition for Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines. The friend I was staying with during my visit came to pick me up in his blue Ford pickup truck. I climbed in after a long day of dancing and on the radio played the song I remembered from Don’s funeral. It was his favorite song. Something inside me wanted to believe he was with me, watching, and showing me he was proud. Now I’m certain that he was.

“Do you have any questions?” Rebecca asks. “What about my Grandmother?” I reply.
“I have someone here by the name of Jen, is her name Jen?” As I start to say no she stops me. “Wait, I’m being corrected. She says her name is, Jane.” She distinctly mouths an elongated J and strongly annunciates the corrected name. I push away from the desk in disbelief. Not only was the name correct the way she showed the correction was exactly how my Grandmother moved her mouth when speaking slowly for my slightly deaf Grandfather. “Your Grandmother sends you hummingbirds.” She says. I smile drifting into thoughts of the many hummingbirds that visit my house daily, bathe in my fountain, and follow me when I walk Cupid. “She loves you and is happy you are going home to visit your family.” Tears well up in my eyes as I choke back a hard cry and stop the knot in my chest from surfacing. “She is asking me to ask you about a blankie?” she asks acquisitively. I gasp in excitement. My grandmother gave me a soft yellow blanket with silk trim before I was born. To this day I still sleep with it. “She says not to lose it on your travels.” I chuckle as a huge smile beams across my face.

“What about my other grandma, my Mom’s mom?” I ask. “She ran away when my mom was three and we have never known what happened to her or where she is. All we ever heard was that she was possibly a prostitute and died in Kansas City.” I reveal. The psychic replies, “I have a Betty here, was her name Betty?” I franticly search my brain for her name. “I think so, but I’m not sure.” I said discouraged. “From what I can tell, she was very emotional and not quite right in the head.” Replied the psychic. “I’m picking up on a lot of drug use. I can’t say for sure about the prostitution but if she was heavy into drugs then prostitution could be a major possibility. From what I can tell, she already passed away.” Still racking my brain for a name, I leave the session with contentment and happiness for such an extraordinary experience.

Rebecca kindly gave me the option to call back once I know what my Mom’s Mother’s name is for sure. “A picture would help give a more accurate reading.” She explains and sends me on my way with enthusiasm for my trip back to Missouri. Maybe I’ll find answers to my past, I can ask my Mom what her Mom’s name is! This could be the closure my Mom and I have both always wanted. Answers to the question, “Who was my Grandmother?”.