A ‘Grandma excerpt’, from the book

Hello everyone!

I’m currently creating a crowd-funding campaign to raise the money needed for the formal release of this book. I’m on a last edit, thanks to my Auntie Kay, a professional editor with whom it’s been lovely to share the journey. Kay is from my father’s side of the family and it’s been wonderful getting to know her better and sharing my mother’s family history with her. We were both surprised to find that Grandma and her especially share the same birthday, and it somehow feels very right to have her on board.

In the meantime, here’s a pre-edit snippet in honour of Grandma Anne:

Since Grandma’s funeral, I have become more comfortable in my own skin. I am validating my own approach to life, and I can feel Grandma cheering me on from the sidelines. I would like to call Grandma my guardian angel or my spirit guide but she won’t let me:

I’m not an angel, she says. I’m just me. And you don’t need guarding. You’re doing a perfectly good job of looking after yourself. I’m not doing anything that important. Just call me your spirit friend. She always was humble. At least she acknowledges she is helping me write this book.

I’m encouraging you and helping you stay inspired by your project, says Grandma. I love what you are doing, and I know you are doing it for me. I don’t understand everything you are writing about flowers being used for healing, but I can see how much you are helping people and I believe in you.

In my work I see people become disconnected from their loved ones who have passed, and it leaves a great gaping hole inside them. I encourage them to talk with their deceased loved ones, even if they don’t believe in life after death.

“Your loved ones live on inside you, in your heart, in your memories,” I tell them. “So talk to them. What would you say to them now if you could?”

We can imagine how they might reply, and this has the potential to be a source of comfort, healing and guidance in our lives.

I wasted twenty years being angry with my father after he committed suicide when I was fifteen years old, and it’s only been in the last five years we started talking again. We had a few heated disagreements and misunderstandings at first, but we worked through them and now we are really good friends. Regardless of whether life after death is literally ‘real’ or not, healing my relationship with my father has transformed the way I feel about myself. Knowing that he believes in me has healed old wounds that would otherwise hinder my capacity to believe in myself.

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