I, like most of you, remember where I was on that fateful day. I was sitting in my office returning calls when my mom called. She was screaming on the other end “Turn on the TV!!! Turn it on!!! One of the Twin Towers was hit by a plane!!!” I ran to turn my TV on in my living room. The sun was steaming in through the large bay windows. It was a beautiful cloudless sky on the morning of 9/11/01; In stark contrast to what would unfold during the course of that day. I, like most of America watched in horror as the second tower was struck by a second plane. I yelled at my mother “Oh my God! The Pentagon, The White House!” Shortly afterwards, the Pentagon was struck. The South Tower fell at 9:59am, the North Tower at 10:28am. They collapsed like a house of cards. I watched in abject shock…and more horror. People covered in white soot ran in the streets, the sound of car alarms blaring. Manhattan was being evacuated. We had witnessed the worst act of terrorism in history on American soil.
In the year that followed, I would come to meet some of those families of the victims of 9/11. Wives, who were now widows. Children who were now without a parent. Parents who had lost their children. Pregnant women who would give birth to babies who would never know their fathers, save through pictures. Their emotions were raw. No longer was I a mere observer into lives of strangers communicating messages from the beyond. I was one of those who witnessed their death. I wept alongside these families as I conveyed messages of the existence a life beyond. It was the most difficult period of my life as a medium. Reading after reading, group after group, I saw and felt their immense pain. The weight of that pain and their collective tears could have filled the Hudson River. So, so many families….
I remember that I read for 9/11 Women’s Support Group out of Rumson NJ who had heard of me through one of their members. One of the last women I read for was seated to my right. Her husband had come through and showed me he was sitting with his girls as they read Peter Pan at bed time. I actually saw Tinker Bell flying around, pixie dust and all. She looked at me in shock and said that indeed the night before she had been reading that book and that her youngest daughter loved Tinker Bell. How clever this loving father was, to show me exactly what his wife and children were doing the night before!
I still talk to a few of them and they tell me that the messages I provided helped them get through the darkest time of their lives.That they were able to move on and in some cases move away to start anew, albeit with heavy hearts. I can only hope that I did help them. That my work as a medium was put to greater purpose in the aftermath of this national tragedy. I will never forget that day. I will never forget those families.
