The Weight of Grief

When Brenda and David, a couple in their late 40’s, signed on for their Skype session, the pressure in my office seemed to change, as if they’d brought a wall of protective silence with them. I smiled and tried making pleasant chit-chat to relax them, but neither gave more than one- or two-word replies. I sensed their grief, and wondered how soon it was that their child had died.

Brenda pulled from her purse a photograph of a young girl in a soccer uniform: Cassie, their 12-year-old daughter, who’d died suddenly three years ago. I blinked in surprise. Three years ago? Brenda’s pain was so strong, it felt like she was mourning a passing that had occurred days ago.

David’s sorrow did not feel as strong. As I asked my guides for the best way to serve this couple, I began to understand that David had made his peace with Cassie’s passing. Interestingly, I sensed he was grieving more for his wife, who was suffering so intensely, her soul felt as if it was in another room.

I wondered if the couple would be better off seeing a grief counselor, rather than working with me. But then I felt a gentle presence enter the room, and in my mind’s eye I saw the girl in Brenda’s photograph standing behind her dad. As I opened my mouth to describe what I was getting, Cassie raised a finger to her lips shhhh! and in my head, she asked to talk to her dad.

But your mother and father want to talk with you, I mentally told Cassie. They came because they love you.

She shook her head. I don’t want to hurt mom any more.

“I’m having a little trouble linking in. How about if I try sitting with you one at a time?” I said, disliking telling this little white lie. But if spirit thought it best that I talk with these people separately, then what else could I do?

“I’ll go first,” Brenda said. David left his wife’s side. I centred myself, and waited for Cassie to touch back in with me.

But Cassie didn’t come. Instead, Brenda’s mother, grandmother and two aunts in spirit wanted to talk with her. I provided enough evidence for Brenda to recognize her family members, and each had the same message for her – we support you, we love you, you’re strong enough to get through this. Brenda sat still as stone, her face expressionless, her eyes like dull copper pennies. I knew she wanted to hear from Cassie, but I was not going to make something up just to please her.

After twenty minutes, Brenda and David changed places. As soon as he was alone with me, he whispered, “She sleeps in Cassie’s room, in her bed.” He sadly shook his head, then blew out a breath. “She tried going back to work six months ago, but couldn’t take it. Most mornings she comes downstairs for coffee, then goes back into Cassie’s room, closes the door, and I don’t see her until I get home from work.”

Behind him, Cassie’s spirit emanated sadness, as if she was grieving for her mother. I told David this, and passed on other feelings Cassie was communicating to me – that she was fine, and watching over her little sister, and helping her get through feelings of being abandoned by her mother.

David seemed relieved to hear that…