Disclaimer: This post is not written with any intent to convince you to believe in mediums.
I adore Theresa Caputo and have watched every episode of Long Island Medium. The idea of being able to communicate with spirits of the deceased is something that I find very comforting. In fact, I need to be able to feel my parent's presence and think that they are watching over me. I need to believe that I can be with them again once I die.
Last Friday morning, Jesse casually mentioned that Theresa Caputo was going to be in Charlotte. He asked if I wanted to go to her reading on Sunday. I think I surprised him when I said "yes" because I hate spending money. However, the (albeit incredibly miniscule) chance to connect with loved ones that have crossed over is not something I consider to be frivolous spending. I decided to go alone because I knew I would cry and take it seriously and I didn't want anyone with me who would make fun of me or distract me from the experience.
The experience was quite fascinating. There was such profound grief and heartache amongst the people who filled the sold out auditorium. Some of the tragedies, particularly those involving children, left me weeping. I won't share the details since those are not my stories to tell.
Jesse bought the cheapest ticket he could find. I was sitting in the upper balcony in an auditorium full of nearly 3,000 people. All of the lights were on and a video camera followed Theresa around as she walked throughout the audience. Microphones were given to people who received messages from their loved ones. The video was projected on a huge screen so each member of the audience could participate or observe the readings.
After nearly an hour of readings, Theresa worked her way to the back of the auditorium. My seat would have been right above where she was standing. You could tell she was distracted or trying to interpret something. (If you've watched the show, you know that's not unusual.) All of a sudden she disappeared from the screen and there was no audio. A minute later she was standing a few rows in front of me exclaiming the following:
My head hurts. My head is throbbing.
Who died of a brain aneurysm?
There's a young wife who's trying to talk to her husband.
Something with the head. She had an aneurysm.
Young wife with husband and children.
A few people raised their hands or shouted, "My wife had dementia." "My wife had Alzheimer's." Theresa dismissed them and said,
No, it's a young wife who had an aneurysm.
Made me run all the way up here to give her husband a message.
She wants him to know that he's doing a good job and it's okay for him to move on.
She needs him to know he can move on.
At this point I had chills and felt strongly that it was my sister-in-law, who died a year and a half ago from a brain aneurysm. I didn't say anything because I was not the husband she was looking for and I was still in a bit of shock. By the time I had made sense of everything and thought, "Oh, that's my brother. I should say something!", Theresa ran back downstairs and resumed her reading.
I don't care what you believe, that's one hell of a coincidence. After the show I called one of my sister's who I knew would share in my excitement. She confirmed that I needed to call my brother, whose reaction would be unpredictable. Not surprisingly, he was a man of few words and offered little more than, "I got hairs standing up." and "Hmmm. Well, what am I supposed to do with that?"
The people that Theresa provided readings for had such raw pain and grief. Whether the loss was recent or from decades ago, their spirits had an urgency to communicate a message to them. There were tragic stories of a child drowning in a pool, another child who was literally beaten to death, a boyfriend who died the night he proposed to his girlfriend, a young adult whose cause of death had not been determined, etc. I know you cannot measure or compare grief, but I certainly felt that these people needed to hear from their loved ones in ways that I did not. I have found a sense of healing and peace. (If I had lost a spouse or child, I don't think I could ever have the same peace.)
The entire experience was one long moment where I felt connected to all of humanity. We were all there because we either wanted to show support for a loved one in attendance or we wanted to receive a message from loved ones that have departed. Many peoples thoughts and emotions were validated last night.
I sincerely hope the message I relayed to my brother provided some level of relief or comfort.