What if you could talk to dead people – would you?
There is a woman who lives in my area who is famous for her connection with dead people. They say she has a secured line; she communicates directly, no roaming charges. My husband’s department went to see her as a group bonding event-weird right?. They took wine and snacks. My husband, a true conservative, was overtly skeptical when he went on this outing. I think he was in it for the wine more than he was for any information he could glean from relatives who had passed. He came home a different person. He was in awe of all that this seer had said to him. He had two pages of notes; notes that named names and details that NO ONE could have known about his history even if they had taken the time to do an extensive Google search. He said that he could not write fast enough.
I don’t share my husband’s skepticism. I have always believed that there is a beyond. As a kid I played with the Ouija board – remember those? When my daughter was a toddler her imaginary friend was Papa. Papa was my Dad who died 3 weeks before she was born. I would walk in her room and she would be having full blown conversations with him. She told me things about MY Dad that made the hair on my neck stand up. If he wasn’t talking to her then how did she know those things about him?? So for me, the opportunity to meet someone who had ‘the gift’ was intriguing.
I got online and looked this woman, Cindy Newcomb, up. I went to her website at
">www.cindynewcomb.com and found the following description of her psychic abilities:
I am a clairvoyant psychic, as well as a fully-conscious medium. I have been blessed to have the God-given ability to provide others with insight, guidance and direction. As a medium, I am also able to reconnect my clients with loved ones who have crossed over.
I take my work seriously and treat it with the utmost integrity. If I can help people connect with someone on the Other-Side (by linking the Spirit World), to bring peace, comfort, and perhaps some closure, or if I can help you to understand and tap into your own inner-guidance (psychic intuition) for answers, then I feel that I’ve done my job!
I called to schedule an appointment. She was booked out for three solid months, I was disappointed I had to wait but I took the first available opening. Two days later I received a call that they had a cancellation, I snapped it up. This is not cheap. I had to pony up $100 to visit with ghosts but I had just received an unexpected check so it seemed like fate. It was interesting to hear what my husband’s dead relatives were up to but I really wanted to know what MY relations had going on.
Let me say that my first impression was a positive one. Cindy operates out of an old, beautifully renovated building she named Raven’s Landing. You walk in and there is a sign telling you that she is with a client and that you should take your shoes off and sit down and make yourself comfortable. I did and I was surprised that I was immediately at ease. The leather couches were comfy, the lights were dim, it smelled like old wood and there were good magazines. I could have sat there for hours. When Cindy came out she was with another customer. After they left she told me the woman had literally ‘died’ in a car crash a year ago and they brought her back. She spent months in the hospital and Cindy is working with her on her body and soul to find balance. Apparently psychics are not held to the same confidentiality standards that lawyers and doctors are.
Cindy literally exudes an energy that is a little disconcerting at first. Almost like a supercharged live electrical wire. I can’t really explain it but it was odd. She asked me what I was there for and I quipped, “Shouldn’t you be able to sense that?” I think my humor went over her head; instead she just looked at me and told me, “you are healthy but you have holes in your stomach”. WTF?? Then she clarified that it meant I carried my stress in my gut. Anyway we opted for the psychic reading over the medical intuiting and we headed into the back. We took seats in a great little parlor type room facing each other. That was when her eyes started darting all over the place, and she started talking. I didn’t have the nonstop flow of information that my husband apparently did. In fact there were some pretty awkward moments where she would ask me if I had any questions that I wanted to ask ‘them’ but I choked and couldn’t come up with a single question. Next time I will go prepared!
I have to say though she said some stuff to me that shut me up. She didn’t do the ‘hmmm, I see someone whose name starts with a N, or it could be an M’ that I anticipated, and we in our eagerness to communicate would blurt out a name starting with the right letter that would lead her down the right road. Instead she started with “who is Tom?” Tom was my dad. Then she cocked her head to the side like she was listening to something only she could hear and asked me, “Um, did he swear a lot?” I laughed because my dad didn’t swear at all except for the occasional shit or dammit, he certainly didn’t drop the F bomb like she was hearing, BUT my brother, also a Tom, certainly did. Then she asked if Tom had just dropped. Well both Toms had just dropped. My father had a massive heart attack and my brother collapsed on the street in Philadelphia and was in a coma for days before they contacted us because he hadn’t had ID on him when he went down. We had to make the decision to take him off life support. A decision that was complicated by conflicting reports from different doctors. Cindy told me Tom thanked me for taking him doing the right thing because he was gone already and he didn’t want to live with “fucking shitty tubes coming out of his ass.” How could she know that? He said he knew I held his hand while he took his last breath and that I said some pretty mean things to him while he was dying. NO ONE knew I said mean things to him because I was the only one in the room with him, my sister and brother couldn’t take it and had left. For the record I did say some nasty things but only because my brother had chosen drugs over family a long time ago and I was PISSED OFF. My kids loved their ‘crazy uncle Tommy’ and he should have been there for them not lying in a hospital bed at age 39.
Then Cindy saw Mary. Mary was my mother. Mary was with Nana, again how did Cindy know we called my Mom’s mom Nana? They were happy and she saw Mary with little girls. This might be when I cried, because Cindy saw Mary with Mary. Mary was our little girl who we lost, she was anencephalic. THEN Cindy said, “but I see Mary with 2 other little girls”. Now her eyes are flying around and squinting like she is seriously looking for something, “Yes, she is definitely with 3 little girls, your Mary and two more”, I said “well my brother and sister-in-law also lost a little girl” and Cindy was shaking her head, yes, yes, yes but then I said I wasn’t sure about the third little girl THEN Cindy asked me, “did you lose another one so early you didn’t even know the sex?” And I admitted that I had lost one years ago but didn’t know the sex. Now Cindy is just about coming out of her chair, yes, yes, yes that was her, she was another little girl and your mom has all of them. OMG. Your Mom Mary wants you to know she is glad you still have her coins. My mom waited on tables for years when we were kids and always put aside odd coins in the hope that they would be worth something some day. I still have the box sitting in my closet but not even my husband knows that.
Maybe it is wishful thinking, but I swear she asked me about things and told me about other things that convinced me that she saw something, felt something that came from the other side.