My Mother Was a Psychic Medium

I had my first paranormal experience when I was four years old and my mother sat me down and tried to explain. But how do you tell a four-year-old she inherited her gift of being a psychic medium, well, you can’t.

She simply said she believed me and would tell me more as I got older and she did.

My mother was not a gypsy, she didn’t sit in a tent at a carnival, nor did she perform tricks for the neighborhood kids. My mother was private about her gift.

Growing up in a time when children were seen and not heard, she only told her father and grandmother she could “see” and “hear” things no one else could. They understood because they too had the gift.

Her grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee who had what they called “second sight.” She knew things and often people from the hills where they lived, would come to her, and ask for advice and guidance. My mother, however, did not do that.

She was cautious about who she told for fear of not only being ridiculed, but she was afraid of being put away. At that time, not many people talked about seeing ghosts and hearing spirits, and if you happened to mention you heard voices… well… there ya go.

As an adult, she had many experiences and often they were unnerving, but she never seemed afraid. She embraced her abilities and helped others instead of shying away from what she felt was a gift from God. However, she only helped someone if Spirit came to her and asked for help.

Once when I was a child, I saw my mother save the life of our neighbor by giving her a message from her dead husband. After being contacted several times by the man who had recently died, my mother felt compelled to do something.

She told me, having known I too had the same abilities, and asked if I wanted to see what the gift could do. I did so I walked across the street with her and made our way to the neighbor’s house.

We were new to the area and although my mother had grown up in a part of Appalachia with an open door policy, we did not know the people in our area, and she was reluctant to be on such a quest.

The woman opened the door and my mother introduced us. She looked at me and realized we were okay to let into her house. We were seated at the country kitchen table, offered a cold drink and fresh-baked cookies, and after some awkward small talk, my mother told her about her visits with her dead husband.

The woman became agitated in her chair and rose from the table to let us out to leave. My mother pleaded with her to listen and she calmly sat back down.

The dead husband came to my mother telling her he saw his wife being very distraught over his death, and every night she had been going down to the bridge. Getting out of her car, she walked over to the railing and thought about jumping into the cold, dark river below. He begged her not to do it and the only way to tell her was by communicating with my mother.

The woman’s face began to crack, and tears flowed from her grieving eyes. She admitted it was all true but how did my mother know? My mother told her about her abilities. Being a devout Christian and country housewife, she had never heard of such a thing but had no reason not to believe it now.

She and my mother became close friends after that, and the woman lived to be 98 years old.

Although my mother could “read” other people, she could not read us, her family. She never knew the reason, but she said she was never able to “see” things for us. However, she always had a keen sense of knowing.

She was a good person, a kind, loving, and generous woman, and a wonderful mother. I miss her but she has “visited” me several times, so I know she's okay. I also know we will be together again one day. ♥