Mørkredd fange i en spøkelseshistorie

Folk spør meg ofte om det ikke er skummelt å være medium. Når man ser tv-programmer der medium er med, er det ofte skumle og skremmende hendelser de opplever eller undersøker, så jeg skjønner at folk antar dette er hverdagen for et medium. Men min hverdag er overhode ikke slik. Faktisk skal jeg tilstå at jeg alltid har vært litt mørkredd. Helt til jeg begynte å utvikle evnene mine som medium. Nå er jeg ikke lenger redd for mørket, for jeg vet hva som er der ute og da trenger ikke fantasien min løpe løpsk hver gang jeg føler hårene reise seg i nakken.

Likevel: Det er jo ikke alt man ser som er like hyggelig. Den absolutte majoriteten av de som dukker opp, vil bare si hei eller fortelle meg noe de vil at sine etterlatte skal vite. Men innimellom dukker det opp folk og beskjeder jeg godt kunne vært foruten.

En av de aller ekleste historiene skjedde for noen år siden. Vi hadde ikke bodd så lenge i Norge, kona mi var gravid og livet smilte egentlig på alle fronter, men støtt og stadig så jeg en blek ungjente som bare sto der og stirret på meg. Mens hun kikket på meg, så jeg tydelig at halve hodet hennes var slått i stykker. Når slike ting dukker opp uten at jeg har bedt om det, pleier jeg bare å sende dem vekk. Det er liksom ikke så greit å ha en slik energi vandrende rundt i huset sitt, så gang på gang ba jeg henne forsvinne. Som regel forsvant hun...

...men dukket opp igjen senere. Hun kunne dukke opp hjemme hos oss, ved siden av meg i bilen, eller plutselig stå utenfor og kikke inn gjennom vinduet. Og hun var ganske insisterende. Til slutt toppet det seg da hun dukket opp på soverommet vårt om kvelden og ikke ville gå. Jeg ble ganske irritert, men kona, som er hakket mer glad i en god historie enn meg, satte seg opp, skrudde på lyset og spurte hvorfor hun var der.

Da kom hele historien: Denne jenta hadde levd hele livet sitt ikke langt fra der vi da leide hus. Hun var en vakker jente, og viste meg seg selv i 12-13-årsdalderen. Familien til denne jenta var fattige, og begge foreldrene måtte derfor jobbe på gårdene rundt om når det trengtes, og da måtte jenta følge meg og trøye seg selv mens de jobbet. Dette var helt greit, bortsett fra på en gård, der det var en gutt hun tydelig var redd for. Denne gutten var nesten voksen i fysisk forstand, men mentalt fortsatt et barn. Gutten likte den unge jenta, og selv om hun forsøkte å holde seg godt unna ham, hadde han kommet over henne mens hun lekte ved veien en dag. Han hadde forsøkt å gjøre kur til henne, jenta avvist ham og plutselig smalt det!

I tydelige bilder, viser jenta meg hvordan den eldre gutten forsøker å holde henne fast, og når hun skriker på hjelp, plukker han opp en stein i veikanten og knuser hodet hennes med den.

Bildene er sterke og følelsene jeg får enorme. Mens jeg forsøker å fordøye dette, insisterer jenta på at historien ikke er over. Hun forteller at det aldri ble klart hva som skjedde med henne, men at noen visste. Noen dekket over for odelsgutten, og sendte henne med elva, slik at hun ble funnet et annet sted enn der hun døde. Med rå bitterhet, viser hun meg at odelsguten gikk fri, selv om han aldri ble funnet i stand til å ta over gården sin og måtte passes på resten av livet.

Dette var ikke kjekke bilder å få over netthinnene like før leggetid, men så fort hun har fortalt historien sin, trekker hun seg tilbake og sier at hun ikke skal plage meg mer. "Jeg ville bare at noen skulle vite at jeg ikke døde der de fant meg," er det siste hun sier til meg, før hun forsvinner. Og det stemmer godt over ens med de få andre opplevelsene jeg har hatt av liknende art. De som har fortalt meg historien sin på denne måten, vil alltid at noen skal vite hva som virkelig skjedde. Ikke fordi vi kan gjøre noe til eller ifra mht den eventuelle gjerningsmannen, men fordi de vil at noen skal vite hva som virkelig skjedde. Og det er vel ikke for mye forlangt, når man får et dramatisk endelikt? Så får man bare være fornøyd med at man ikke er mørkredd lenger ;-)

På jakt -igjen!

I dag skulle jeg skrive en blogg om åndelige hjelpere. Bare slik at dere ikke glemmer det andre jeg holder på med fordi om jeg har funnet min indre hestejente.

Men i stedet er dagen brukt på hestejakt. Egentlig skulle jeg jo ha hentet min nye hest i går, en nydelig kaldblodstraver i rekonvalesens fra gaffelbåndskade. Men så ble det ikke slik. Og det har jeg deppet litt over hele uka. Hodet mitt var så innstilt på den hesten at det å begynne å lete på nytt, var litt tungt.

Likevel har vi brettet opp ermene, trålt finn og facebook og sendt meldinger i hytt og gevær. Det er jo mange hester til salgs til enhver tid, og nesten uansett hvilke kriterier du har, er det mange, mange å velge i. Men det skal jo helst føles rett også. Personlighetene må stemme og det må være noe, kall det gjerne x-faktoren, som gjør at du kjenner at "denne hesten har jeg lyst på".

I dag har vi vært og hilst på en nydelig kaldblodsdame, og jeg fikk brukt evnene mine litt. Det skal sies at det er jo nyttig å være healer/medium når man skal handle hest, for jeg får MYE informasjon om hesten bare ved å stryke hendene mine litt over den.  Og i dag var det fascinerende å se hvordan det jeg plukket opp stemte overens med det eier fortalte til kona mens jeg fokuserte på hesten.

Det er rart å forklare hvordan det skjer, men når jeg møter en hest for første gang, er det akkurat som når man møter mennesker, bare mer avslappet. Fordi jeg snakker med dem uten ord, er det veldig direkte og uten at noen av oss spiller en rolle eller reserverer seg. All kommunikasjonen foregår inni hodet mitt, så for dem som er der, ser det nok bare ut som om jeg er veldig konsentrert om å stryke på denne hesten. Ofte vil jeg i slike sammenhenger plukke opp humoren deres for eksempel. Ja, du leste riktig: Hester har ofte god humoristisk sans. I dag ble det ikke tid til det, for alt handlet om å finne ut mest mulig om denne hesten, men det er kjekt å møte hesten, kjenne på personligheten og få bekreftet det jeg plukker opp av det eieren sier. Det gjør det lettere å ta en av avgjørelse om dette er hesten for meg også. Jeg vet i alle fall mer om hesten nå enn jeg gjorde før besøket.

Så får vi se om dette er hesten for meg... eller om jakten fortsetter. En ting er i alle fall sikkert: Boksen er tom og det klør i fingrene etter å fylle den med noen hundre kilo hest :-)

PS. Jeg lover at bloggen om hjelpere skal komme i morra :-)

Når den andre sida maser...

Mange spør meg hvordan det er å kunne se døde mennesker, sånn i hverdagen. Gjennom bloggen skal jeg prøve å svare litt på dette, eller i alle fall gi noen eksempler. Og en av tingene som er litt utfordrende når man lever tett på den andre siden, er når folk på den andre siden maser på meg.

Ja, du leste rett: Også døde folk maser innimellom. Det er litt som på denne siden, at noen er mer krevende og tar mer plass enn andre. Og innimellom treffer jeg selvsagt på noen som har mer på hjertet enn det jeg har tid og lyst til å ta inn. Da føles det lett som at de maser på meg, og jeg blir litt forvirra av hva som skjer på den andre siden, og hva som skjer her.

Ett godt eksempel på dette, er en dame som henger rundt et sted jeg jobber en del. Dette er en gammel dame som etter at hun gikk over til den andre siden, er trukket mot bygningen jeg jobber i fordi det er mye folk og barn der. Dette liker hun, og jeg tenker at det nok er noe hun ville likt i live også. Så hun har gjort bygningen til sitt tilholdssted. Naturligvis så jeg henne en av de første gangene jeg kom til stedet, og anerkjente nærværet hennes uten å gjøre så mye mer ut av det. Det skulle jeg kanskje ikke gjort, for siden den gangen lar hun meg ikke være i fred. Uansett når jeg er i den bygningen, er hun der og krever oppmerksomhet.

Jeg tror ikke denne kvinnen var spesielt krevende i live, men nå som hun er død og har merket at jeg kan se og høre henne, forventer hun at jeg skal kommunisere med henne hver gang jeg kommer. Og mellom hver gang jeg er der, samler hun liksom opp ting hun vil snakke om eller kommentere. Dessverre for henne er jo jeg der på jobb, og kan ikke alltid prate med henne. Det har hun lite forståelse for, og når jeg ikke vil høre på henne blir hun irritert på meg. Innimellom har jeg kjent denne irritasjonen så sterkt at jeg har unngått å gå inn i den delen av bygningen hun holder til, fordi jeg ikke har orket følelsene hun gir meg.

På et tidspunkt gjorde jeg den tabben at jeg fortalte en kollega at jeg ikke orket å gå dit på grunn av denne døde damen. Kollegaen min, som ikke har mine evner, synes dette var kjempespennende og ville med en gang vise meg bilder av alle som har jobbet der for å finne ut hvem dette er, mens jeg synes det hele begynte å bli litt slitsomt.

Og slike ting skjer naturligvis andre steder også. Av og til kan jeg synes det er spennende å finne ut hvem som er på et sted, andre ganger passer det bare dårlig. Slik oppstår også noen vittige situasjoner, som når jeg møter noen inne i et kjøpesenter i Kristiansund og trør til sides for ikke å krasje med denne personen. Idet jeg liksom tar et steg til sides for ikke å kollidere med personen, skjønner jeg at det er bare jeg som ser ham, og håper ingen la merke til min lille dans.

Et annet eksempel, er når kona mi har gjort en avtale med noen på den andre siden (det gjør hun ofte ettersom hun er "like synsk som en gråstein" ifølge henne selv, men har mange folk på den andre siden som hun liker å høre ifra eller spørre til råds). Dette gjør hun gjerne uten å informere meg først, så når de døde dukker opp som avtalt med Eva, jager jeg dem unna. Da trekker de seg litt unna, men likevel kjenner jeg dem i bakgrunnen og dette gir meg dårlig samvittighet. Det samme gjelder når jeg selv gjør en avtale med noen på den andre siden, for så å bryte avtalen. Innimellom skjer det jo, for det er ikke alltid det passer i hverdagen å sette seg ned å ha lange samtaler inni sitt eget hode, men hver gang det skjer, gir de meg denne dårlige samvittigheten.

Det jeg har lært over tid, er at det ikke lønner seg å skyve dem til sides hvis de har noe de vil ha sagt. Er det mulig å ta praten, er det best å bare gjøre det. Likevel er det en del situasjoner der jeg bare må skyve dem unna fordi det rett og slett ikke passer med planene og begivenhetene rundt oss. Har de noe viktig på hjertet, kommer de alltid tilbake ;-)

The future, according to Simon MIlton-Jones

So, I've been doing a lot of email readings so far this summer and I can honestly say, I am very pleased with the way things are going. The readings flow and there have been some interesting requests, (I love the weird and wonderful).

I thought I would put a short blog out there on the world wide web of internetedness about the future as that's what this round of readings is all about. No, I'm not going to make any prophecies about which way the world is going to turn, although I will say that I never expected the UK would actually leave the EU, and so therefore, I am prepared to predict Donald Trump as the next US president

. . . they deserve him.

Anyway, back on track, the future . . . The future of the world at large moves and changes very slowly and it will probably feel that we are unable to do anything about it. What we can change is our own personal world and it's easier than you think.

The future is not set in stone, you can change it as and when you like. I am not one to ever quote the bible but in this instance, it kinda hits the nail on the head with, you reap what you sow. If you want to change your future, but do nothing about it, nothing will happen. If you want to change your future and begin to do something about it, something will happen. It's not rocket science and it's a concept that everyone can understand.

If you want to make a change for your future, you need to physically, actually do something about it. There is no point waiting for an outside force to come and do it for you, it will never happen. In order to set the great universal wheels in motion, you need to turn the first cogs yourself, and the most simple way of doing that is to make a plan. First of all, work out what outcome you want from the future, once you know that, you need to start working backwards and find out what needs to be done to bring about the changes. Crap, I can feel another bible quote coming on . . . God helps those who help themselves. Another way of saying it is, the Universe only gives you what you ask for. If you are waiting for a change to take place, that's what the Universe will also do, wait. If you start doing something, then the Universe will reply in kind and also start doing.

You get the idea.

So, instead of wanting a change, make a change. You are in control of your own future, don't let anyone convince you otherwise. Work out what you want from the future and then create a plan on how to get there. Start small, and remember, nothing comes to those who wait!

Here's where to get my excellent e-mail readings at just 499kr.! ! !

Spring fling!

Now that we've moved from the lofty heights of Gjøra to the centre of the sprawling metropolis that is Sunndalsøra, spring has taken me by surprise! Usually, I would be cursing that there is never going to be enough time for my vegetables to grow before harvesting. Now, I'm thinking damn it, I should have had my squash and carrots in the ground already! Nature has beaten me to it again!

Thankfully, I am getting more time at home these days, less travelling around the country and so there is time enough to play at being the gardener. It's not that I don't like travelling around Norway, but what with four children, three horses, a wife and a dog, my time is much better spent closer to home.

Pleasantly, it does allow me to work in a very effective way – e-mail readings. There is something to be said for being able to shut the world out, connect with a client and write a reading in the comfort of my own office (steaming bowl of lady grey to the left). There is such a benefit to having a reading presented to you in black and white, or blue and white . . . or green and white, depending on what mood I'm in. It allows clients to be able to read it again and again, rather than having to remember what what said, face to face.

Sticking to the memory of spring, here at the international headquarters of Simon Milton-Jones Healer and Medium, we are offering e-mail readings at half price (500kr). Other than arguing with Mother Nature about when the squash seeds should have been planted, spring is usually a time of renewed vigour, stamping your feet into the ground and making big decisions. There is something about it all that gives us a sense of empowerment, optimism and a feeling that things are on their way up.

So, for me, this spring, I plan on doing more and more e-mail readings, not just so I will have time closer to home but also because it's a nice way of connecting with my clients and giving them something personal and memorable. As of writing this blog, I still have no seeds in the ground but I do have a very nice 40 year old gressløk plant (chives) that is declaring itself the supreme winner of all things coming early this year. Impressive.

Memento Mori

Well, Christmas is upon us once again, my bank account is giving me dirty looks and I’ve not yet bought the food and wine necessary to satisfy my plump belly!  Never mind, money comes and goes, no matter how much or little you have – today I read that Mark Zuckerberg (founder of Facebook) is worth $45 billion so unless he has a really, really bad day, I think he is probably the exception to the rule.

Anyway, I digress, my point in this blog has nothing to do with Mark and his billions but more to do with two small words, Memento Mori. Memento Mori – remember death. It sounds really morbid, remember death, but it’s now going to be my catch phrase. At the time of the black death and subsequent generations, Memento Mori was everywhere, painted onto buildings, carved above doorways, everywhere. The idea was that we should never forget that life can be short, death could be just around the corner and so LIVE! Live life like you may not see many more days.

We have all heard the saying, live today like it’s your last and I guess it’s a modern day version of Memento Mori. I am sure there were such sayings coming out of the last world war as well. And today it’s probably more real for those fleeing their homeland and risking everything for the chance of a safe life.

For some years I’ve been talking about life being about having experiences, doing things, experiencing new sides of life, actively getting out and doing the things you have fancied trying. Because, at the end of the day, once you are dead, there is no more physical body, no more flesh and bone to push down a mountain on skis, no more base jumping from weird and wonderful places in Norway, no more crazy sex in public places (it’s not just me!). Once we are dead, all the physical experiences we can have are gone. While we are alive, it is our personal responsibility to do whatever it is that sets a spark under us, to experience all the things we would like to do.

I promise every single person reading this, once you are dead, you will want to be a person who can say, “I DID THAT”. All of the experiences we have while alive will be taken with us, they are an integral part of who we are. We are the sum of our experiences to date. Be someone who is able to say, I did that, not someone who has to say, I didn’t do it. Puhhh. I didn’t do it, is one of the saddest things to take with you out of this life.

Memento Mori, sums up this philosophy for me. Memento Mori, remember death, live life. Use your life as a way of gaining as many experiences as you can. Good experiences, bad ones and downright ugly ones. The bad and ugly are just as important as the good, they all make us who we are. This is your purpose in life!

Lastly, decide from today what experiences you would like to have before you die and let that be the compass for your life ahead. If climbing an active volcano in Iceland floats your boat, do it. If walking the Inca trail is just a fantasy, find a way to make it happen. If taking a year out and sailing around the world burns within you, buy a boat!

The point here is that while you are alive, use your life to do the things you imagine. Be someone who dies and is able to say, I did that and not, I didn’t do it. The New Year is on its way again and there will be plenty of new resolutions to quit smoking, join the gym. Forget all that nonsense, make a resolution to do something only your imagination has dared share with you.

To be (humble) or not to be (humble), that is the question.

Rabindranath Tagore

I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me in the silent dark?
I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not.
He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he adds his loud voice to every word that I utter.
He is my own little self, my lord, he knows no shame; but I am ashamed to come to thy door in his company.

This is a wonderful piece of text by famous Indian Guru Rabindranath Tagore. It's quite simple in its message and beautifully put but I don't necessarily agree with the final sentiment. Yes, being humble is a worthy trait to behold but who ever made something happen or changed a thing by walking softly and without poking their head out above the crowd?

My Spirit Helpers try their best to teach me to be humble and sometimes I listen, and clearly sometimes I don't. When it comes to my “gifts”, I find it's different, I take a more humble approach and not on purpose, it just comes that way. I don't take what I do for granted and I always do my best to be as good as I can. It is true, I am confident when I know I am able to do something, bring through dead friend or relative for someone, heal a prolapsed back or a baby with colic. But my confidence is not arrogance and being confident doesn't mean I am Mr Anti-humble. Yet, time and again, I get the same message from my Helpers – practice humble.

So, even though “humble” isn't the first thing that springs to mind when I think about myself, I do work on it. There is no class Humble 101 I can take, there is no Idiots Guide to being humble, unfortunately it is simply an ongoing process. The real kicker here is that just when you think you are humble, you have to start again because the simple thought “I am humble” comes from the ego and means you still have a long way to go. Bollocks :-/

OK, so I understand why my Helpers want me to work on this, it makes it easier for them to communicate with me, I become a more open channel. I can also see the benefits of taking a humble approach to things, a lack of ego is generally quite an attractive thing in someone. BUT. . . hold on just one God-damned minute. . . I am not Mahatma Ghandi, neither am I His Holiness The Dalai Lahma, I definitely don't wear a loin-cloth (unless it's fancy-dress) and no one asks me for my help saving the world (that's probably a good thing). I am Simon Milton-Jones, a Healer and Medium living in Mid-Norway and I take pride in what I do! When I do a good job, provide a great reading or relieve someone of their pain, I am proud and why shouldn't I be?!

Like 99.999% of other people, when I know I have done something great, I feel three meters tall and I want the full depth and sound of my voice to be heard. I feel like the dust could rise from the earth when I walk (I don't swagger – leave that to John Wayne) and I assure you, I will not, not, not stand in shame when it comes to the things I am passionate about!

So, to be (humble) or not to be (humble), that is the question . . .

I find myself with a dichotomy, a puzzle, do I follow my Helpers and do my best to always be humble or do I stay true to myself and remain far more gregarious, colourful and “out-there”? I don't know but I am sure my path to enlightenment does not lie simply with one or the other. If I were humble all the time, I would drive my Wife, Eva, crazy in a very short period and tell me one person who was ever humble when it came to their divorce?

Does anyone know these girls?

Does anyone know these two girls?

For the last couple of years I have been plagued by two girls (dead). Well, plagued is somewhat strong as these are two good looking girls in their early twenties. The girls first came through to me when I moved to Norway in September 2008 and I've not been able to find their living friends or relatives since.

So, I thought I would use this blog to see if anyone recognises the story and can point me in the right direction of anyone living that might know them. I have limited information on the girls and their situation but here goes:

It was summer, sometime in the late nineteen sixties or early nineteen seventies. Two girls in their late teens or very early twenties were driving in what I think was a Volkswagen beetle. They were in the Ålvundfjord area, not far from the sea when by complete accident, they came off the road. The car rolled onto its roof in a river and neither girl was able to get free of the car and they drowned.

Someone must remember these girls, they were very good friends and so two families have been touched by this accident. I would dearly like to find anyone who recognises this situation as I keep remembering the girls and see the car rolling into the river, time and time again.

It's not often that I get dead people coming through to me and can't get in touch with the people they are looking for. I have had dead folk come through just because they can and almost just for the fun of it. For example, I saw a dead woman waving at me from the upstairs window of a building I was walking past. The woman showed me that she had been hung in the attic room by her boss and his sister.

I've also had an old soldier come through who was really interesting. He came through telling me that my wife, Eva, was going to find him when she was researching her family tree. This amused him greatly and he showed me where he came from, what he did with his life and how he felt about certain things that happened with his family. In interesting man to have through. Surely enough, Eva found him a couple of days later in one of the Bygdebok.

While I'm talking about general people that have come through to me, there was an incident, in fact it has been the only incident, that frightened me when dealing with all these dead folk. I was lying in bed when a young girl of about ten years old (dead) came into our bedroom. This girl stood at the end of our bed, next to the window and said to me, «come here, I want to show you something». I answered swiftly and surely, «No.». There was something about this girl and what she wanted to show me that was scary, really scary and so I refused. I told her to go away and show someone else.

The girl didn't go. In fact for the next several days, she kept popping up and in the end Eva said to me, «Oh, for gods sake, just go and see what she wants to show you!» Finally I got out of bed and went to the window where she was standing. When I looked out, I saw her in the verge next to the road and she was on her knees, there was a boy of about fifteen years old with a rock in his hand and he was beating her about the head with it. He killed her, then pushed her body from the road and walked off. It wasn't a pretty sight. The girl was then back in my bedroom and told me that she wanted someone to know what had actually happened to her, as she felt her story had not been told correctly in the past. The girl also wanted to show me the situation regarding the boy that killed her and that it wasn't her fault she was killed. Once I had acknowledged what the girl had said and shown me, she left and I haven't seen her since.

It's sometimes strange communicating with these dead people, they have all sorts of ideas and thoughts and reasons for coming through. But that was the only time I have ever been frightened about what I do.

To me, working with the dead is just another part of daily life and they come across no better or worse than the living, in fact, they are no different at all really, other than I can't shake their hands when I say hello. Dead people have just as bad timing as everyone else living and even turn up unannounced at the most in opportune moments. Fortunately, I feel I can be a little more strict with them and have no problem telling them to go away and come back at a later time, otherwise I would be forever interrupted. Sometimes I think they forget I have a normal life here on earth still need to get kids to barnehage, earn some money and live a life where practical things matter. Eva tells me that if she dies before me, she isn't going to care about what I'm doing or who I'm with, she's going to interrupt me anyway. I say, what's new!?

Podium problems

Providing mediumship readings for people when in a large group of people is fraught with problems! I was once standing i

n front of a group when a teenage boy (dead) came through to me, he was pointing at a woman in the audience and said, “I came with her, I'm her brother.” There is nothing unusual about this except that I had the feeling that there had been abuse in the family. The boy went o

n to tell me that he had died in a car crash and that it wasn't an accident, he meant to end his life.

So, standing in front of a lot of people, most of which didn't know each other, I was faced with a problem. I knew this was going to be a great message to get across to the woman in the audience, at the same time I didn't want to embarrass her. I proceeded to tell the woman that I had a teenage boy with me and that he tells me he is your Brother. The woman's face turned a certain grey colour and all of a sudden I knew there was more to the message than expected.

The Brother proceeded to tell me that he had sexually abused his sister for a considerable period and wanted to let her know that he was sorry. Hmmm. . .

At that point I wanted to end the message by saying something non-de-script and move onto the next reading. But, it's not that simple! I can't give a vague message with no specific meaning and be done with it all. As a medium I have a responsibility to both the dead and the living. That teenage boy had a reason for coming through and even though that was not the best time or place, still he came through and wanted to be heard. Furthermore, the woman in the audience, now knowing that her brother was with me, needed an explanation and something to let her know everything is ok.

While keeping the audience in mind I told the woman that her brother is telling me there was a considerable period of unease at home and that he knows she knew what he meant. I went on to say that the evening he drove away from the house and died, he knew what was going to happen and believed this was the best thing for everyone. The woman acknowledged the message and I went on to tell er that he has spent a long time coming to terms with all he has done and wants to begin to say sorry. I suggested to the woman that she come and see me after the event and we would talk further.

Such messages are not at all uncommon, all families seem to be touched by tragedy of one description or another. I don't consider death as tragedy, of course it's upsetting when someone dies but tragedy is something altogether different. I feel there is a line which shouldn't be crossed in public when dealing with personal situations and it's a fine line. I still need the message to be personal, mean something to the audience and at the same time, not deliver anything so personal that is embarrasses the recipient.

Speaking with dead people is great, I love it and wouldn't change it for anything and even though there are times when the messages don't seem appropriate for the public arena. The benefits far, far outweigh the drawbacks even though each week I ask for the winning lottery numbers and never get them.