Forget Me Not
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  • Anne St. John,The Medium

Forget Me Not



Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away to the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, That, we still are. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect. Without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same that it ever was. There is absolute unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you. For an interval. Somewhere. Very near. Just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is past; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before only better, infinitely happier and forever we will all be one together with Christ.

Henry Scott Holland


Often, when we lose someone we love, we are too broken, too lost, and too emotional to talk about their death. It becomes so painful, that we try to forget them. We love and appreciate them, but we also fall apart at the memories, and the regrets. When my brother Miles died from his suicide at only 19 years old, I was in a perpetual state of shock. It was the beginning few days of my senior year of college at St. Leo. And I cried nearly every day. I wandered through my fall semester as a shell of the person that I once was and I leaned on the best friends that I had to comfort me. I remember that my sorority sisters were very sorry for the loss, and they had a memorial service for him on campus. But I couldn't bring myself to go. I was too distraught, and too upset to be there and the feelings of repeating the funeral were on my mind as I attempted to walk up and go inside. My sisters went in my stead. And I went back to my dorm room and cried.

The passing of time and the emotions that followed were horrible. I was sad and angry. I was completely bewildered and yet I felt that I should have known it would happen. All the signs were there, but I always felt he would survive. So like a clam, I shut down, tried not to talk about it, and the pain I felt was covered in layers of "I wish I could haves.. " and some "What if I hads" and plenty of "I just want him backs". His passing was emotional and the hurt was terrible. And the problem was that I did not need to be producing pearls of wisdom about what should have happened, but I should have realized that his life was still continuing in another state. But this time it was not a move to Louisiana or Texas, it was Heaven.

After some time passed, it was my grandfather, Edward St. John, who was passed on and pointed me in the direction of Betty Eadie's book, Embraced by the Light, the story of her near death experience. And it was my mother, Carol St. John's conversation with Medium George Anderson in New York, that helped me understand that Miles was truly still alive and well. In the late 1980's, the concept of mediumship was still very new to me and I found that it was not always accepted by people I knew, but it often validated what I was feeling and intuitively understanding.

The hurt that I felt was lost in a long passing of time and much of it gave way to understanding. The raw grief and pain that we feel when someone dies does not need to stay with us forever. Instead of trying to forget them because they are not physically here, not talk about them, or staying sad because somehow you feel that it honors the memory to stay unhappy for their loss, mostly does you the disservice. They would much rather have you see it as a progression. And a life history should be remembered with the sentimental gratitude for having them in your life for the brief time that they were here. Even the smallest part of them in your life, and the many that stayed the course, should be understood that they were there for a reason. And with life after lifetime, you will be reunited again. Just as in the poem above by Henry Scott Holland. All is well.

Anne St. John is a Psychic and Medium located in St. Augustine, Florida. With a fully mobile and virtual office, you can book your appointments for in person, Skype and phone readings. Find out more at www.AnneStJohn.com

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