My Visit to the Psychic (Part Two)
If you’re reading this and you haven’t read My Visit to the Psychic (Part One) stop and back up. None of this will make sense unless you read the post before this one.
Sister P allowed me to write down the names of four people who had died that I would like to speak to through her. I took the tiniest scrap of paper from the back of my notebook and wrote in barely legible letters in a font that would put a size 8 to shame. But I didn’t just write in tiny print. I wrote the names transliterated into Hebrew (so, not their Hebrew names which would naturally be spelled with Hebrew letters, but their names in English shoved into Hebrew letters. Sort of a hard concept to convey to non-Jews, but go with me on this). Why? Because I’m not a natural believer. And if she had come out with the names, I would have simply thought that she had some device set up that allowed her to see over my shoulder. But I could assume that if I wrote out nonsense – in a foreign language, no less – and she came up with these names…
I folded up the paper as small as possible and handed the spit-ball-esque paper to Sister P. She rubbed it between her fingers while she spoke and she wove my conversations with those four people through details from my past.
I was born too quickly. My mother is probably nodding if she’s reading this. I was born so quickly that my father didn’t have time to park the car. My mother came into the hospital and dilated to 10 cm within a matter of a few minutes. By the time my father got up to labour and delivery, he was told that he had missed the entire birth. Oh, and congratulations – you have a baby girl.
Sister P explained: I was born that quickly because I didn’t actually need to be here. I had made a completion in my last life and I had been released from the life cycle. I chose to return to earth and was born that quickly to slip into the world under what she called a “god sign.” She explained that I chose to return not for my own personal gain, but to help others. She said others would benefit because I had chosen to return to earth (aren’t y’all breathing a huge sigh of relief right now that I’m here?).
My uncle came forward to speak to me; the first person on my list. Sister P spoke for him. He wanted to apologize. He was sorry that he left so quickly without saying goodbye. He knew that I always had trouble with goodbyes and he was worried that it was because of the way he had died so suddenly. My uncle died of a heart attack when I was nine and he was the first person that I lost suddenly; without warning. I still have trouble with goodbyes at thirty-three*.
She told me about a relationship that I had during college. She told me I had dated the man for two years and our relationship was so intense that when she looked at our relationship as she peered into my past, she couldn’t tell what was him and what was me. His life had bled so completely into my own.
She told me there was a night after I got off the phone when I was crying so hard that I knelt down on the ground and started hitting the floor with the palm of my hand. And I did do this, alone in the apartment, my junior year. I never told anyone about it – including this boyfriend – until I told my sister this story after I left Sister P’s.
My cousin came forward to speak holding the left side of her head. She called herself not by the name I wrote down in transliterated Hebrew on the slip of paper, but the name that I called her. She told me that what had been in her head was now gone and I should stop mourning her because she was at peace. She died when I was in middle school from a brain tumour.
Sister P ran through a host of past problems and situations, ticking them off as proof, promising me that she had something extremely important to tell me about my future and she wanted me to believe her and take it to heart. She touched on a lost friendship, the end of my relationship with this aforementioned boyfriend, a difficult time in my family when I was 13. She told me that I needed to let go of what was happening in the moment, leave it behind in Massachusetts and move. She apologized for what I was going through in Massachusetts (as I’ve already said, I was in the center of Hell), but it was necessary for this whole return-to-earth business. “Believe it or not, you need to be going through this now so you can help people later.”
And though I don’t feel like I can speak openly about what happened in Massachusetts, I think what Sister P said is completely true. I don’t think you would have me connecting with you if not for that experience that brought something that started in college full-circle. But until I looked over my notes from Sister P tonight to write this post, I never put that together.
Not to be cryptic or anything.
My pushy Hungarian great-grandmother showed up for a visit and kept interrupting Sister P, just as she would have done in real life. She kept marveling at me and saying, “but she is just a little girl!” It is a phrase I always associate with her, the Hungarian lilt to her words: “leeeeetle geeeeerl.” My grandfather, always quiet and gentle in real life, stood next to her, saying nothing. Sister P asked if he had died recently. “This year,” I answered. He hadn’t learned how to communicate yet with the living, she explained.
This is the message that Sister P needed me to know. She said that I wasn’t put here for marriage. But I would have one and I would know he was my intended husband because he would mention that he had lived overseas when I met him. Prior to dating Josh, I dated a boy from Israel and I always wondered if he was the one. To be honest, I really didn’t want him to be the one. I wasn’t in love with him. But he had, of course, lived overseas. Still, it wasn’t something that was mentioned on the first date so I always wondered about it.
During our first date, Josh told me all about the year he spent living in Israel after college and his travels through Ireland. I went home and called my lady-when-waiting and my mother and told them both, “I met the man I’m going to marry.” And I did.
She told me to write this down. I would only have one child. It would happen when I was 30 and it would be a difficult birth as well as a difficult pregnancy. She said the complications would begin around 4 months, but if I followed my doctor’s orders, I would deliver a healthy baby. If I fought against my doctor’s orders, the baby wouldn’t live. She told me I would need to stop working towards the end.
When we were doing treatments the first time, I never believed I would be a mother, though the words I wrote down from Sister P brought me a modicum of peace at times. According to Sister P, I would have one child. She had been right about Josh and she had been right about not trying to live in Washington, D.C. proper (a long story of apartment waiting lists). Why couldn’t she be right about motherhood?
When I became pregnant with the twins, her words sent me into a panic. One child. I couldn’t even focus on the rest of the prophecy. All I could see were the words “one child.” It didn’t even occur to me that it was coming true when the hyperemesis kicked in (a difficult pregnancy is right) or when my doctor told me to stop working and I fought him, saying that I needed to finish off the school year. Their birth, as you now know, was difficult. They were IUGR and were born prematurely at 33 weeks. I didn’t do any of the emotional prep work Sister P told me to do. I was an emotional wreck after their birth. I was 30-years-old as promised.
But we broke the prophecy, right? Because she said there would be one child. Or did she say “one pregnancy” and I wrote down “one child”? It’s obviously important and it’s not one of those things I can check on after the fact. At the same time, it’s not really important. It’s all in what you want to believe.
She told me that I would want more children and I wouldn’t get them. I would have many children pass through my life but they wouldn’t be mine. They would be other women’s children, but I would affect their lives from afar.
I have never been back to a psychic. This was my one and only time. I have no interest in going to a different psychic or trying to return to Sister P. It was just something that fit into my life in that one moment in time. And I believe it with my whole heart. And I’m always skeptical of her words too, especially her one final prophecy that I don’t know yet if will come true.
* And that still seems to be true at 38.