My loved one passed and I wasn’t there. How do I forgive myself?

We’re coming out of a time when so many of us lost someone first or second hand to coronavirus and it feels very tender… even writing this, my normally speedy fingers are typing hesitantly.

I want to talk about this topic with you, but it’s okay if it’s too much for you to read right now.

You can come back to it when you’re ready.

I haven’t been talking as much about mediumship because I felt called to teach about other things that felt pressing:

• Coping strategies (for the pandemic)

• Strategies for new business owners (new business birthed, largely, due to the pandemic)

• Intuition (because client after client was so intuitive but not trusting herself)

• Personal power (because I will never stop empowering women to own their power—and also because women will be needing to regain some ground, due to the pandemic)

Now that the pandemic is subsiding, I feel like it’s time to return to the topic of death and dying and the world after death.

The question on the table is: My loved one passed and I wasn’t there with them. How do I forgive myself?

My mother, an incredibly intuitive and spiritually connected person and my most important example and teacher, worked in hospice for years.

She recounted to me that she saw this phenomenon happen again and again.

Families would sit vigil with a loved one for hours, days even, and then the individual would die when everyone happened to be out of the room.

Heartbreaking.

And confusing.

Why does this happen?

And from the perspective of someone sitting vigil, does that mean we let them die alone? Did we let them down?

Disclaimer: I do my best to be transparent in my work and that will continue here: I’m not the end-all expert on this topic. At all.This information is what I’ve heard from discarnate spirits on the other side and from what I’ve read in books other mediums have written on this topic.

Even though the time leading up to death may (*may*) have moments of uncertainty, fear, pain, longing, sadness, confusion, exhaustion, and grief, the actual transition includes none of these things.

Transitioning feels good.

My guides are trying to explain what the process feels like to me as I type this and they’re showing me an image of an ocean wave turning into mist in the sun—it’s that kind of morphing from heaviness to lightness.

Whereas living might feel cold, heaviness, pain, fear, and angst, those feelings are all of this dimension.

What are the opposites then?

Warmth. Lightness. Ecstasy. Supreme calm. Gentle knowingness.

Transitioning feels like a comforting pull leading your heart and soul upward and homeward.

From what I understand, for some loved ones close to death, the time before the actual transition can feel like a tug of war.

• Your loved one wants to be with you on this side.

• They don’t want to say goodbye.

• They want to stay.

• They may not feel ready to transition yet.

• They especially feel all of these feelings when you are there with them.

• They may also feel our attachment to them—our unwillingness or lack of readiness to let them go just yet.

They energetically sense and feel these feelings and sentiments, even if they can’t express it or explain it.

Even if they don’t want to talk about it or can’t, this situation may be what’s happening.

When you leave the room or go into even a semi-relaxed sleep state at their bedside, that warm pull towards spirit feels stronger and more palpable to them.

They begin to connect with their loved ones who have already transitioned.

They feel the warmth, the calm, the lightness, the joy of the other side.

Sometimes the pull is too comforting and too strong to resist.

And so they transition.

Even if there is no one (on this side) to witness it.

<3

Now to the second part of the title question: How do I forgive myself?

Here’s what I want you to understand and there are two parts to this:

Part one: They are not alone when they die.

Part two: You did nothing wrong so there is nothing to forgive.

—They are not alone—

There is always someone on the other side aiding in their transition, helping them across, assuring them along the way.

The loved one may look alone (on this side) from our limited view of the world, but they are with spirit when they pass.

They are safe and cared for.

They are okay.

—You did nothing wrong so there is nothing to forgive—

Let’s say you left the hospital room to get a cup of coffee after sitting vigil with your dad for four days and in that ten minutes, your dad passed.

As hard as it is, that was exactly what he needed to do.

Perhaps it was too painful for him to watch you watch him transition. Discarnate spirits are often aware of what happens at their passing even if they’re non-verbal and not conscious.

Perhaps he hates goodbyes.

Perhaps he doesn’t like being the center of attention.

Perhaps he felt too weary of this world and couldn’t resist the pull to the other side any longer.

And so that was how he chose to go on.

It’s hard.

It sucks.

It’s so deeply painful to not have our loved ones here in human form with us.

And sometimes our people have to transition the only way they can—without their loved ones at their bedside.

It’s the opposite of how we see it in TV and movies, but it happens. Often. And it’s sometimes easier for your loved one to move on that way.

*Pause for a breath*

Now.

One of my assigned jobs in this life is to help people, like you, live FULLY while you’re alive, connect with your soul to fulfill its potential, and then also, to help you recognize and understand that death is not an ending, but a change in form.

This whole process is a cycle we get to repeat and learn from as we grow and evolve.

These are not easy lessons to teach and they’re not easy lessons to accept.

And if you still feel upset after reading this blog post, feel upset.

You get to feel how you feel.

Grief is complicated.

Loss is a lot.

And no blog post can simply wave the truth of whatever feelings you’re experiencing away like a magic wand.

Nor would I want to rob you of whatever experience you’re having.

I do hope that at some point, you can find solace in what I’m sharing.

That maybe you don’t have to feel bad or be hard on yourself for however you’re loved one passed.

That you can find a teeny, tiny glimmer of grace among all of this hardship.

Someday.

<3

If you have questions, please send them to me. I’d be happy to answer them the best I can.

In the meantime, be gentle with yourself this week.

Get out in nature or dive into a delicious book or lay poolside and act marvelously like Mrs. Maisel.

Whatever it takes to give yourself some sweetness and care, please do it.

Sending you comfort and joy from my little floating tiny home,

Rebecca*