Читать книгу An Angel Set Me Free: And other incredible true stories of the afterlife - Dorothy Chitty - Страница 18

We expect our parents to die before us. It’s the logical way of things, and it feels wrong, as if the universe has been turned upside down, if one of your children dies before you. Many clients have first come to me when they are struggling to understand why this can happen, and why it should have happened to them, and I am able to give them comfort by explaining what I know and contacting their lost child for them.

After such a shocking event as a child’s death, it’s human nature to look for someone or something to blame: a drunk driver, an over-tired doctor, faulty electrics, or whatever. But imagine what it is like if a child of yours takes their own life? Who do you have to blame? In Stella’s case, she blamed herself.

Josh was twenty-three years old when he committed suicide by jumping off a tall building. I knew he was upset about breaking up with his girlfriend but I had absolutely no idea how distressed he was. Why didn’t he come to me? Why didn’t I know? As a mother, surely I should have realised instinctively that he needed help? I tortured myself with thoughts of what his last moments must have been like, and as the weeks and months passed I sank into a depression so deep that I didn’t think I would ever recover. It was like being in a dark, enclosed prison cell. I couldn’t bring myself to get up in the mornings and I don’t think I would have carried on living myself if it hadn’t been for my other son, Callum. I couldn’t put him through another loss.

One day I was sitting on the edge of my bed in my pyjamas trying to will myself to get up. I hadn’t had a shower or washed my hair for about two weeks. My clothes were all dirty. The room was dusty. Everything was falling apart. Suddenly I heard a voice.

‘It’s about time you got yourself a life.’

It sounded like Josh’s voice but when I looked around the room I couldn’t see anyone. ‘Who said that? Is that you, Josh?’

‘’Course it’s me, Mum.’

My heart leapt. ‘Are you OK? Where are you?’ There was no answer to my question but somehow I felt he was still there. I got up and made a cup of tea then I decided to have a shower. As I stood under the hot water, soaping my hair, I heard music playing. I stuck my head out and realised it was Josh’s music, and it was coming from his room.

I got out of the shower, dried myself and wandered through, and somehow his CD player had been switched on and was playing one of his favourite CDs. But there was no one else in the house apart from me. I didn’t feel scared, though. I knew it was Josh, and it made me smile.

Down in the kitchen, over lunch, I kept trying to talk to him again. ‘I hope you’re all right,’ I said. ‘Are you all right?’

I was just pouring a cup of coffee when I heard him say, ‘I’m all right, Mum. You’re the one who’s not. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye but I’m happy with the life I’ve got now. It’s time you started living again. Don’t waste the life you’ve got.’

The words were so clear that it was as if he was sitting across the kitchen table from me. Instantly I felt as though I’d been released from a prison of pain. The heaviness that had been weighing me down and preventing me from doing anything lifted. My head cleared. The room seemed brighter. I felt physically lighter.

That afternoon I did several loads of laundry and some housework. I phoned my older son and asked him round for dinner then I went to the local shops to buy some delicious food and cooked it. I felt like myself again.

For months I’d been trapped inside my own grief. It took my son coming back as an angel to set me free.

Stella came to see me and was able to communicate with Josh again, but it was that first time that made all the difference. She knew he was fine, and that was the main thing that helped her to move on.