‘My mother’s dead!’ I told him.
‘I know that,’ he said and I looked at him more closely. There was something very calm and still about him. ‘I’m going where you’re going,’ he continued.
‘How do you know where I’m going?’
In response, he walked ahead of me and turned into an alley then round to the back of the building where I was taking my course and in through the correct door. I was amazed as I followed him in, and finally ready to listen to what he had to say.
‘Your mother is telling me that you feel as though you’re facing a brick wall. But she says to remember that as each door closes a window opens, and don’t you forget it.’
This was a phrase my mother had often used. I opened my mouth to thank him for the message but as quickly as he had arrived, he was gone again. Some people who were there for the course came over to greet me.
‘Do you know that man?’ I asked, pointing in the direction he had gone, but they all looked at each other blankly. No one did.
I never saw him again, but I believe he was a physical angel sent to bring me comfort at that very difficult time. Looking back, there was a kind of light about him and I trusted him instinctively. Reminding me of my mother’s words about all the opportunities in the world was the perfect message for me at that time and knowing she was around helped me to pick myself—and my daughter—up again.
Most people think of angels as being in the spirit world, but I have learned that there are many different kinds. They have all ascended through many lifetimes and evolved in each so that their souls are pure. They communicate with us in different ways, but always for a reason, and listening to them will help us to move forwards in our lives.
Many wise angels have come to help me in different periods of my life. There were the five souls looking at me with love as I lay in my cot; the man in the brown suit who I thought was God; the two pairs of hands that lifted me back from the cliff edge in Devon; that little man in the main street in Guilford; and many, many more (I’ll tell you about some of the others later in this book). I probably failed to recognise many angel visitations during the period between my teens and my thirties when I tried to turn my back on my psychic abilities. As I teach on my courses, the first thing you need to do is learn to be still and listen so that your sensitivity develops—and for a long time I wasn’t listening.
Angels visit all of us at different times. By learning to recognise them and heed what they have to say, we can lead happier, more successful lives and find comfort to get us through the dark times. They may even save our lives.
Once established, the bond of love is never broken. When someone who loves you passes away, they are not physically present on earth any more but they remain with you, watching over you, and they can help you when you need it. My mother only comes back to give me a message in periods when I have real problems but I know she’s around the rest of the time and I still talk to her in my head every day.
Death isn’t painful or difficult, even though dying can be. People fear letting go, but once you die you are going home, back to a place you recognise, somewhere you existed before your previous life on earth. Once you have arrived there, you turn around and see the pain your family is going through, and that’s why many spirits come back as quickly as they can to try and give comfort. If someone comes to me for a reading soon after a bereavement, the spirit will often just say, ‘Tell them I love them and that I’m fine.’
I was in a supermarket recently, squeezing some lemons to see if they were juicy, and I got into conversation with a woman there. Suddenly her husband’s voice came into my head, saying, ‘Tell Margaret that she did everything she possibly could and that she’s to stop feeling guilty. Nothing more could have been done.’
I turned to the woman. ‘Are you Margaret?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’ She looked puzzled that I should know her name.
I repeated the message from her husband and she was visibly shocked.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she said. ‘Oh my goodness. He died last week and I’ve been feeling so guilty because I went out shopping and when I got back he was dead. He’d been ill with multiple sclerosis for a long time and I’d been nursing him, but I didn’t realise the end was so near and I went out to get some food.’ She began to sob and we hugged each other for several minutes until she calmed down.
‘He’s with you all the time,’ I told her. ‘He wants you to be happy.’
People always come back for their own funerals—not to see how many friends turn up, or whether their funeral instructions have been followed, because these are earthly concerns that no longer matter. Instead they come to give comfort to those they have left behind, in whatever way they can. Without exception, I have seen the dead person at every funeral I have ever gone to. Every one. And at my father’s funeral, he actually sat on his own coffin smoking and drinking throughout!
My dad had been a military man, so his coffin was draped in a Union Jack and there were just a few poppies on it—the wreaths were all outside the church. I had agreed with my brother and sister that I would say a few words during the service but as the time drew near, I wasn’t sure I could do it. My father had been ninety years old, which is a good age, but I’d always been a daddy’s girl and I was very, very upset about his death. I wasn’t sure I would be able to make my little speech without breaking down because I was feeling so overwhelmed, but when the time came, I looked up and there was Dad, sitting on his coffin with his legs crossed—and he winked at me. He had a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other and he looked cheerful and calm, and that gave me the courage to go on. I stood up and started talking about all the good deeds he had done in his life, and the sort of person he was, and in my head I could hear him say, ‘Go on, that’s my girl!’
Not everyone is able to see spirits at a funeral but many people have described to me a sudden feeling that the dead person is close to them, or hugging them, or has an arm round their shoulder. Maybe they can smell their perfume or hear a familiar voice inside their head, and at that point they get a sense of strength and know that they will be able to cope with whatever happens next.
Family members on the other side will not watch and listen to every single thing we do, but they always know when we are thinking about them. Some will become our guardian angels, who can come to help us when we are straying off our life’s path and to give us comfort and guidance at different stages when we need it. There are many different ways they can communicate with us—and one of the most common is actually hearing their voice in our head.
Lock the Doors!
Anne was a woman in her mid-40s who ran her own little florist’s business. She loved the work, because it allowed her to express her creativity and she got to spend her days surrounded by the beautiful colours and scents of flowers, but most weeks she only just scraped by and sometimes she had trouble finding the rent. Here’s a story she told me about her visit from an angel.
It was the day before Mother’s Day and I had done a roaring trade for a change, as dozens of customers ordered hand-tied bouquets to be delivered to their mums. At six o’clock, I closed the shop, put all the takings into a canvas bag and walked out to my car to take the money to the bank. They had a late-night deposit slot where I could put it in, ready to be counted the next day. I threw the canvas bag onto the floor on the passenger side of the car, where it was clearly visible, and set off through the rush-hour traffic.
I was just coming up to a set of traffic lights when I felt my skin pricking all over and heard my mother’s voice in my head. ‘Lock the doors! Lock the doors!’ it said.
Without thinking, I pressed