Love Does Not Leave. I Know Because I Lost Someone Too.
The ache is real.
The connection is real.
Nobody tells you that wanting it back so desperately
is exactly what makes it hardest to reach.
Some people come to me with questions about their future. Some come because something in their life stopped making sense. Some people come to me seeking mediumship for grief, because they lost someone and they are not ready to stop talking to them.
I have sat across from those people for many years. I know what grief looks like when it walks through a door. I know the way it sits in someone’s body, the way it changes a voice, the way it makes a person both desperate for answers and terrified of them at the same time.
And then, in July of 2025, it came for me.
My Own Grief as a Medium
My sister Stacey passed on July 2nd, 2025. She was 47 years old. She died of organ failure from sepsis.
Twenty-five years earlier, I lost my mother. She passed on July 3rd. She was also 47. Also, sepsis.
One day apart on the calendar. A quarter century between them. Same age. Same cause.
I have sat with that for a while now and I still don’t have a word for what it is.
My sister and I had a layered relationship. There was love and there was conflict all wrapped together with wounds that never fully smoothed out between us. When she died, I didn’t just lose her, I lost the only other person on earth who shared my specific version of our story. The memories that only the two of us carried. The childhood details that now exist solely in me, with no one left to confirm them. No one to fill in details I can’t remember anymore. No one to laugh with over the ridiculous things we did.
That aloneness is something I didn’t really have a name for before this. It isn’t a loneliness exactly. It’s something more specific. There’s an emptiness in being the last person holding a particular version of a story that no one else can verify or add to. That history lives only in me now. And the fear of losing pieces of it over time is real.
I don’t have a solution for that because I’m still in it.
What Mediumship for Grief Actually Looks Like
I want to be transparent about something. Knowing what I do about what comes after this life did not protect me from grief. It didn’t soften the landing or give me a shortcut through it. I’m a psychic medium with a lifetime of experience and grief still brought me to my knees.
What I felt in the immediate aftermath was fury and ache and a kind of disorientation I didn’t have a language for. Guilt over things that were never resolved. The weight of unfinished conversations that will never happen the way I imagined them. A merry-go-round of thoughts I couldn’t slow down. And underneath all of it, something older. Grief pressed against childhood wounds I thought I’d already worked through. It showed me what was still living inside me.
That is what grief does when you let it do its job. It does not stop at the surface loss. It goes all the way through you down into the core of your being.
I knew this. I’ve told clients this exact thing. And knowing it and living it are two completely different things.
What I Bring to Mediumship for Grief Sessions
Here is what I know now that I didn’t see clearly before.
The connection does not end. I know this professionally, but I know it personally now.
Stacey comes to me mostly in dreams. In my waking state the grief is still too raw, the emotion too loud, and that noise gets in the way. What comes through are glimpses. A random thought that doesn’t feel like mine. A memory surfacing out of nowhere that I couldn’t access on my own. Brief and quiet and easy to miss if I’m not paying attention.
That’s the part nobody talks about. When the loss is fresh and the love is fierce, the wanting creates interference. The tighter you hold on the more it slips through. I know this. I have explained this to clients more times than I can count. And I still catch myself gripping.
I’m not telling you she has given me everything I need or that I’ve found my peace in it. I haven’t. What I can tell you is that she’s still there. In the fragments. In the moments I stop reaching long enough to receive a small glimpse. But right now, that has to be enough, and most of the time it is.
The people we lose are not sitting in impatience waiting for us to pull it together. They understand grief better than we do at this point. They take a step back. They wait until the emotions settle long enough that something can actually land. They don’t want to interfere with our healing process because it’s doing something necessary.
Accepting that has been the hardest part. Not as a medium but as a sister.
The Part Nobody Warned Me About
The thing I struggle with most, even as a medium experiencing grief firsthand, isn’t the pain of missing her. It is the fear of forgetting.
Grief shifts over time. The sharp edges dull. And when it does, the details start to blur. You try and recall a specific memory, and it is not as crisp as it used to be. A laugh. The exact way she said something. A story only the two of you thought was funny. You reach for it and it’s there but it’s softer than it was. And that terrifies me in a way that the grief itself doesn’t.
Because grief I know how to sit with but forgetting feels like a second loss I have no control over.
Nobody prepares you for losing the last person who knew your earliest self. The person who was there before you figured out who you were going to be. Before the work, before the healing, before you became the version of yourself the world knows. Stacey knew that person. She was part of that story. And without her there is no one left to say yes, that happened, yes, I remember, yes, that was real.
That specific aloneness does not have a name in our language. But if you have lost someone like that, you know exactly what I am describing.
Stacey helps where she can. A memory nudged back to the surface at the right moment. A detail I almost lost that suddenly comes clear. That’s connection too. It’s not always about big messages or dramatic confirmation. Sometimes it’s just someone making sure you don’t forget the small things. Making sure the story doesn’t disappear entirely just because she’s no longer here to tell her half of it.
I will probably always struggle with losing her. She was my blood. She was the only person who knew the version of me that existed before I became who I am. No amount of time is going to make that less significant.
What I do know as a medium amidst my own grief is that she isn’t gone in the way that word implies. And that I will find her again on the other side of this ache, clearer than I can reach her right now.
My Mediumship Sessions Are Different Now
Not because my abilities changed. Because I understand the other side of the table in a way I didn’t before. I know what it feels like to sit with grief and hope and the fear that what you received was real, that you didn’t just want it badly enough to manufacture it. I know what it’s like to question your own experience because the need is so great that it contaminates the signal.
That is the honest reality of grief and connection. The love doesn’t leave. But the louder the grief, the quieter the connection can feel. That isn’t failure. That’s timing. That’s the process doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.
What I offer in a mediumship session isn’t performance and it isn’t closure. What I offer is contact. Evidence. The specific, sometimes quiet, sometimes startling details that tell you the connection is real and that the person you lost is still present and still aware of you.
In thirty years, I’ve never had love fail to show up. Not once.
It doesn’t always arrive the way you expect. It doesn’t always give you what you thought you needed. But it arrives.
Mediumship Sessions are Available
If you are carrying grief and wondering whether connection is still possible, I want to tell you plainly that it is.
I’m not going to promise you what will come through or how it will arrive. But I will show up for that session with everything I have and with the understanding that comes from sitting exactly where you are now.
Mediumship sessions are available in person in Edmond, OK by appointment or virtually anywhere in the world 24/7 by appointment.
When you are ready, I am here.
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