On Friday the 13th, I sat in the sanctuary of our synagogue as Shabbat services began. I love attending services as the music is very healing and uplifting to me. I often receive channeled information from Spirit during the service so, I routinely keep a small journal on my lap rather than a siddur (prayer book). I listen more closely to the readings because I am not looking at their words on a page, and I sing along to the music while my hand follows its own path across the page. I'm no stranger to automatic writing and am often profoundly moved by the words waiting for me at the end, which I have no memory of writing. Some days I write more than others but, on this night, I wrote only a single word; live.
My twin was still in the hospital and updates were slow in coming. I gently pressed his siblings for information and offered prayers of love and support. I did not want to intrude on his family, but I was desperate for updates, and every day was a lesson in patience and resisting the unending urge to go there. My desperation would only cause upset and lead to more questions. I am not family, and they were already dealing with so much during this dreadful waiting game. I told myself that no news was good news, but I didn't really believe it. And when we returned to the car after the evening service was over, I turned on my phone to the news that he'd passed, at almost the exact same moment I'd written the word; live...
I don't remember the drive home, or my husband talking to me. A singular thought screamed in my head; just keep breathing.
In the days since our time at school, we'd literally met face to face, twice. When a work trip took me to his town, we spent several hours over two afternoons, catching up and getting to know each other again. The awkwardness that often accompanies finally spending time with your teenage crush, was intensely present in those first moments of meeting each other face to face, after thirty years apart. There were a million questions, on both sides. And, there was pain...
So much had transpired between us; so much love, and so much pain. Such is the nature of the Twin Flame relationship.
In all, we spent just 6 or 7 hours together discussing the past, our connection, past lives, and why we were, as he would say, binary. A twin relationship is all or nothing, in or out, binary.
And then, it was over. He took me back to my hotel and we both went back to our lives. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that would be all the face time we would ever have. And the reality of his death sent me reeling.
I cried for days. Sobbing, big ugly cries into my pillow night after night, two weeks before Christmas and two and a half weeks before our birthday. It's not unusual for Twins to share a birthday or for them to occur on adjacent days as ours do.
And then I was on a plane, bound for a funeral I had to attend, if only to see him one more time.
I wanted to meet his family, to tell his children, from a woman they'd never see again and likely wouldn’t remember, how special he was and how much he loved them. The whole agonizing trip was less than 24 hours and I have no idea how I would have kept myself together through any of it, had my friend Kirsten not been by my side.
Until recently, I was a person who knew I had a Twin Flame here on the earth plane.
I knew who he was, and why. And he knew it too. I didn't think we were done learning from, or helping each other evolve except... he died.
He died, and I'm not ok. There, I said it. I am not ok. And even for all that I know that I know, I still feel lost and alone, to go the rest of the journey of this lifetime without him here. Though, as a medium, I'm also aware that perhaps he's more able to help me from the side of spirit. So now I find myself again, in the always agonizing position of having to be patient.
He's been gone over a month and I've not been able to fully connect with him, yet. There have been moments, feelings and confirmation from others who are sensitive to these kinds of energies. But I want more, I want proof he is ok and still here! And yet I know I'm not ready. I go to my mediumship development circle and pray both for him to come through to one of the other skilled mediums there, while at the same time, praying for him not to come through.
I tell my own clients to wait at least 30 days before coming to see me, to give their grief time to breathe and to give their loved one time to fully transition as well. Except now, that shoe is on the other foot, and the wait is killing me.