REMEMBERING URSULA

In the 20-odd years of our friendship, she was on a profound spiritual journey, listening hard to her inner guidance and always seeking to learn and grow. A warmly loving person with highly developed intuition, she seemed essentially positive — yet I also know she had struggles, challenges and sorrows like the rest of us. 

Nothing was more shattering than the death of her son from cancer, quite quickly, still a young man, just under a year ago.

In the months since, her spiritual journey accelerated as they remained connected. Alongside her overwhelming grief, she gained many realisations about the path of his soul both here and beyond. She was given deep understanding of the lessons he was here to learn, and the insights that she herself could derive from the whole experience. 

She shared her journey and her insights generously on facebook, including the times of pain, doubt and confusion ... from which she always managed to emerge with new illumination. She shared this not only for her self-expression, but because that was her way of teaching and empowering others.

Recently, I thought she had reached a stage of peace and happiness — assisted by a spiritual retreat she attended in Bali, and by her joy in the rest of her family: husband, daughter and grandchildren.

Yesterday evening I was vaguely aware of a spirit presence, thought it must be (as so often) my darling husband come to pay a visit, but then I realised it was a dark-haired woman. I didn't pay a lot of attention. Being a psychic medium, I am used to spirits hovering around: I often function as a kind of clearing-house, which doesn't have to involve any conscious action on my part. I gave a brief, friendly acknowledgment, received a feeling of calm friendliness  in return — as if we exchanged a wave or a smile in passing — then went on with other things.

It was the night of the full moon. A friend and I saw it rising, very large and bright, just above the horizon, as we drove home from a Tarot class I'm teaching. By the time I went out into my back yard, quite early in the evening, and did a brief ritual, the moon was much smaller, but still very clear, very white. Full moon is a time of strong and positive power. My ritual was fairly informal this time. Basically, I re-dedicated myself to the service of Love.

Was it before or after that, that I became aware of the spirit visitor? After, I think, but I can't be sure.  In any case, she chose a wonderful night to make her transition!

I was already in bed at 11.20, sitting up and browsing fb, vaguely wondering why I was doing so, when a mutual friend messaged me out of the blue to tell me Ursula had died that day, of a brain haemorrhage. She thought I probably hadn't had the news yet. She didn't go into detail, exhausted after much crying and ready to sleep at last. 

"I'm glad I told you,' she said after our short conversation. I got the impression it had occurred to her to message me just as she was about to retire for the night. A nudge from Above, perhaps?

I was shocked! I couldn't go back to sleep immediately, so in the end I got up about 2am, toasted Ursula with a glass of red, ate some bread and honey, read some poems, did some (unrelated) writing, thought.... 

Finally I held a little vigil all by myself, reminiscing about details of our friendship. How strange, I thought, not to be sharing these reminiscences with my dear husband, who first introduced me to her (they were already friends) — as we surely would, had he been still alive himself.

I contemplated the idea of her saying hello to him in the after-life, but then I thought no, she'll be heading straight for a reunion with her son. (We interviewed her many years ago, as one of the mothers in our tales of psychic children. The story she told us involved that same son, as a sensitive young boy who even then had awareness of the other-worldly.)

I'm not sure when I got back to bed; maybe 3.30, maybe 4. But then I slept peacefully.

I think now how devastating it must be for her family — a second loss in so short a time, either one of which is terrible enough on its own. 

But for her? It seems to me that she must have completed her incredible journey. She had found huge, ever-increasing stores of love and understanding. She had attained deep peace. She knew great happiness in the true and simple joys of this world: nature, friendship, family. She did everything she could to bring peace, understanding, love and happiness to others. 

She has left us at an age we think of as 'too young' (62). But I do believe it was the perfect time for her soul to move on. Many are blessed to have known her.

Am I making her sound saintly? She wasn't. She was funny and feisty, earthy and human. I guess I knew her best as a good friend. 

This morning, of course, I make the connection to the dark-haired woman who visited in spirit last night — younger and slimmer than I knew her, which may be why I didn't recognise her at the time. (It was just a quick glimpse anyway, seen only dimly.) 

Or perhaps she deliberately didn't make herself known, as I hadn't yet received the news; but just connected sufficiently for me to know, later, that she'd come to wave goodbye as she set out on her further journey.


(Photo by Yvonne Teoh Bource, from the Bali trip)