A Memory Found Me in the Kitchen
Personal Sessions are available Tuesday thru Saturday!
(Evening appointments every Thursday)
I was cooking on Sunday – which I love to do because it always relaxes me –when suddenly I had this flash of my friend Renee. I saw her face exactly as it was at my son's celebration of life.
Now, it's not that I forgot she was there. I just think my mind never sunk into that moment. She had come all the way alone, probably drove an hour to a church she'd never been to. She sat quietly, and at the very end, she walked up to my pew, looked down at me, and our eyes met. I remember feeling such warmth – that feeling of family surrounding me – and she touched my shoulder, maybe even kissed my head, and then slipped away.
And there I was, a year and three months later, just cooking dinner, when that memory floated in.
This is what grief does. It doesn't always leave. It's softens. The edges that once made me bleed are smoother now – like rocks shaped by water – but the feeling is still there. Because if you loved deeply, you will grieve deeply. That's the cost and the beauty of love.
There's even a scientific side to it – during intense grief, our brains protect us by fogging up the details. It's a survival response. The mind literally shield us until we are ready.
So, moments like the one I had with Renee… they surface later, when our hearts are strong enough to hold them.
And now, as we head into the holiday season – when memories and emotions rise up like bubbles in a simmering pot – I want to remind you that this is normal.
You're not “backsliding.” You're human.
If you feel called to talk about your own grief or need help finding clarity, I do have a few session openings this week. Together, we can explore what's coming up for you – emotionally, spiritually, and yes, even energetically – because sometimes what we feel isn't haunting us, it's trying to help us understand something.
And for those who've asked – yes, I also do space sessions, where we can walk through your home (in person or over Zoom) and sense what's really going on. I don't see it as clearing ghosts but more as bringing peace and understanding into your space. Energy, just like grief, can soften and settle too.
Sending love as you enter this tender season.
~ Mary Rose
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Sally. Perfectly sideways, shoulders shifting, pearls glowing just enough to make me dizzy. You can’t see behind me. You can’t see this way. You can’t see behind me, she sang, tilting side to side like a catwalk instructor with a vendetta.
I squinted. Something was moving. Voices? Footsteps? I couldn’t tell. Coco hissed and puffed his tail into an electric storm.
Cat’s hoodie slipped a bit from her face, and she leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Ex-husband D, she muttered. Or ex-husbandy. Pick a numb-burrr!!
Sally turned sharply, finger wagging. Listen here, young hoodied one — I’ve survived ex-husbands. I’m not counting exactly how many, because who needs numbers when you’re schooling idiots like you?
Joe blinked.
Sally! I scolded.
Cat muttered, Wifey… seriously.
Sally puffed her phantom cigarette dramatically, gaze sweeping over us all. And now you. Floating, thinking, maybe, just maybe… some rules apply. But no! Heaven isn’t for paperwork! It’s for cosmic justice, floating wardrobes, and learning that love — married, divorced, ghosted, or otherwise — comes with new upgrades!
I tried to nod. Coco hissed again. Somewhere behind Sally… I swear I heard faint groans of ex-husbands past.
Sally leaned closer, eyes twinkling with that judging-but-loved energy. So relax, sweethearts — here in heaven, no one owes anyone an apology.
And just like that, something shifted behind Sally. Coco bolted upright, claws extended.
Cat’s eyes widen so fast I thought they might pop out of her hoodie. Low-key… glad I died young, she muttered in that deadpan, Gen Z drawl. Skipped all the messy divorces and ex-husband drama. 10/10 would recommend...
Cat! I snapped.
Joe shuffled a little, looking completely lost, until Donna reached over and gently grabbed his hand. He gave a small, sheepish grin. Thanks, he whispered.
Sally let out a satisfied huff, one eyebrow arched, and turned back to us: You're never too alive – or too dead – to know better. Now behave!
And just like that, she stomped off – heels clicking – into what looked like a casino room made entirely of glitter, laughter, and possibly several very confused men.
Coco hissed, Catalina muttered something about peak chaos, and I just sighed, knowing full well that Heaven had officially gotten louder, funnier, and infinitely cooler.
“Heaven isn’t for paperwork” just another glorious thing to look forward to.(bc me desk is a bit messy)