Free Do Dead People Watch You Shower? by Concetta Bertoldi Page A

sometimes they will give me a number—let’s say they tell or show me the number 2. I don’t know if that means two hours, two days, two weeks, two months, two years. I might be able to get a little more info and tell the client that it seems like they mean two weeks. But this is a very imperfect method.
    Sometimes they will mention a birthday, but it won’t be clear whether it’s a birthday that has just passed, or is just coming up. It can be a bit of a guessing game where the client has to give confirmation—I have no clue!
    The dead have jobs, but don’t have to punch a clock. They don’t have appointments, but very often they will be aware of a big event coming up for a family member—maybe a graduation or a wedding, or some other family gathering, and they’ll tell me to tell my client, “I’ll be there!”

Do the dead obey rules?
     
    Yes, we all do. But honey, they also break them! But seriously, I’m sure there are a few rules God has made, but I’m also sure they are simple ones.

Do we know when it is our time to die?
     
    Yes, we all know that, in the core of our soul. Most of the time, though, we don’t have access to what we know, or we don’t know it consciously, but still we’ll behave in a way that in retrospect we might say, “Boy, he was always in a hurry. He must have known.” We have three levels of awareness. At the first level we’re aware of the input we are getting from our five physical senses. At the next level we have our introspection and our memories. Then there is our supraconsciousness, which is our “knowing” of our connection to God and all that entails. It’s at this third level where we do know how long our time on earth will be. Like I said, usually we are not focused on that level, but sometimes, in some people, it bleeds through.
    One time, two sisters came to see me and told me the story of their brother, who was always saying, at different times, when he was talking about things he might like to do in his life, “Well, if I make it to thirty…” It really bothered his sisters; they hated that he would suggest that he might not live till the age of thirty. They always said to him, “Don’t say that!”
    When he was twenty-eight, he met and fell in love with a girl and they got engaged. They decided to get married in Antigua and they chose his thirtieth birthday for their wedding date. After the wedding, he and his new wife were swimming and all of a sudden it got very dark and a storm came up. They swam for the shore, but the water was all choppy with a strong current. He turned to his wife and said, “I’m not going to make it.” She said, “Of course you’re going to make it! Come on!” But he drowned.
    He had everything to live for. He wasn’t unhappy. He didn’t commit suicide. He just knew this was his day.
    On the other hand, at one of my big shows in Verona, New Jersey, there was an elderly woman who was looking for her husband, Mike. Her daughters were with her in the audience. Mike did come through and to identify himself to his family he told me all about his projects, most of them unfinished, and all the stuff he collected in his backyard to build things with “someday.” He showed me this image of his yard—all sectioned off and filled with junk, concrete blocks, you name it. He had a real sense of humor about it, was actually making fun of himself, and his daughters were smiling and nodding, like, “Yep. That’s our dad.” But then Mike has something serious to communicate. He tells the woman, his wife, that she has to stop asking him to come and get her; Mike says it’s not her time, she has to stay here, that there is something more for her to do for the family. She is nodding her head, reluctantly, I can tell, and tears are streaming down her face. Mike tells me to assure her that when it is her time, he promises to come get her, and he promises she won’t suffer. She was more than ready to go, but it wasn’t her time. Even