The Day Death Lost Its Power Over Me

Editor’s Note: This article was originally intended for publication during Día de los Muertos, observed on 1 and 2 November. Unfortunately, unforeseen technical difficulties delayed its release. I have chosen to retain the original references to the celebrations, preserving the article as it was written.

The Day Death Lost Its Power Over Me

In my previous article, I explored why death has become something we fear and so often avoid discussing. This time, I want to take the conversation somewhere more personal, and ask a different question: have we misunderstood death itself?

There was a time when I feared death, just as most people do. I wondered what would happen when my physical body ceased to exist. Would there be anything left of me? Would I simply disappear into nothingness?

I no longer ask those questions.

Not because I found an answer in a book, adopted a particular religious belief or persuaded myself that there must be something more.

I experienced something that changed my understanding of death completely.

It happened during a serious illness, when I came extraordinarily close to leaving this world for good.

What I experienced turned everything I thought I knew about life and death completely on its head.

A Different Relationship With Death

Today, as Mexico celebrates Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead, I find myself reflecting on the extraordinary contrast between how different cultures understand death.

In Mexico, families honour their departed loved ones with vibrant colours, marigolds, candles, food and music. Beautiful altars, known as ofrendas, meaning offerings, are lovingly prepared. Favourite foods and drinks are placed upon the altar as acts of welcome, alongside photographs and personal possessions honouring the memory of those who have passed.

Behind these celebrations lies a profound spiritual understanding, rooted in ancient Indigenous beliefs and later interwoven with Catholic traditions.

Within the Catholic calendar, 1 November is All Saints’ Day, while 2 November is All Souls’ Day, when prayers are offered for the faithful departed. In Mexico, these observances became intertwined with much older Indigenous traditions recognising an enduring relationship between the living and their ancestors.

During Día de los Muertos, it is believed that the spirits of departed loved ones return to walk amongst us once again.

Rather than regarding their presence as something to fear, families prepare to welcome them home.

When the Dead Remain Part of the Family

The offerings are not simply decorations. They are expressions of love and welcome, reflecting the belief that those who have died remain connected to the families they left behind.

In some communities, families gather in cemeteries, tending graves, sharing meals and keeping company with their departed loved ones.

The dead have not been forgotten or relegated to some distant, inaccessible existence.

They remain part of the family.

Similar traditions of honouring the departed can be found elsewhere, although each has its own distinct history.

In Guatemala, enormous colourful kites are flown during early November commemorations, traditionally associated with communicating with ancestors and the spiritual world. Across parts of Latin America, families gather with offerings, prayers and food to remember those who have died.

In the Philippines, families observe Undas, visiting the graves of loved ones with candles, flowers and food.

What strikes me about these traditions is not simply how people remember their dead, but how differently they relate to death itself.

Death does not have to mean the end of our relationship with those we love.

What Have We Forgotten About Death?

Which raises a question I believe is worth asking.

If so many cultures continue to honour their ancestors and acknowledge the presence of the dead, why have we largely lost these practices in modern Western society?

Of course, All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day are still observed in churches and communities, and many families continue their own traditions of remembrance.

Yet for many people today, these occasions have little place in everyday life.

What have we lost by allowing rituals that once brought the living and the dead together to fade from our collective experience?

Perhaps more than we realise.

Rituals give us somewhere to place our grief. They allow us to speak the names of those who have died, share memories and grieve openly, surrounded by others who understand what their absence means.

We have not forgotten how to love those who have died. Perhaps what we have forgotten is how to remain connected to them.

I wonder, too, whether losing that sense of connection has contributed to the fear with which we now approach death.

For these traditions invite us to consider something beyond remembrance.

What if death, which we experience as a painful departure, is experienced quite differently on the other side?

“Life is a sleep, and death is an awakening.”

-Herman Melville

When Death Becomes a Homecoming

When a child enters our physical world, there is often enormous excitement.

Families gather in anticipation. People wait to welcome someone they already love, even though they have yet to meet them.

What if the moment we leave this physical world is the moment we are reborn into the spiritual world?

What if those who have gone before us are waiting with the same anticipation?

Imagine that for a moment.

Here, a family may be devastated by the departure of someone they love.

Yet beyond the veil, another family may be celebrating that soul’s return.

The same moment experienced from two entirely different sides of existence.

Of course, knowing that someone we love may be welcomed home in the spiritual world does not make their absence here on Earth any less painful. We still have to live without their physical presence, and no spiritual understanding can take away the grief of missing someone we love.

For most of my life, I had never considered that death might be a return rather than an ending.

Little did I know just how personally I was about to experience the very homecoming I had never imagined possible.

It took a serious illness to bring me face to face with my own mortality, and an experience so extraordinary that it went far beyond anything my human mind could comprehend.

The Day I Almost Died

Following an unexplained illness, my physical condition had deteriorated to the point where my body was struggling to survive.

By then, everything had become overwhelming. I knew I was dangerously close to death, and eventually, I reached a point where I had neither the strength nor the will to continue fighting.

I let go.

I surrendered to death.

Yet rather than experiencing the end of my existence, something unexpected began to happen.

The pain disappeared. The difficulty of breathing was gone. The physical distress that had consumed me moments earlier simply fell away.

Although I was no longer conscious within my physical body, I remained fully aware.

I had never felt more alive.

Everything I perceived was clearer than anything I had ever experienced. There was no confusion, no fear of disappearing, no sense that I was ceasing to exist.

I was still me.

Yet something fundamental had changed.

“Death is only an illusion; it is life changing form. The soul cannot die, for it is one with the Eternal.”

-Paramahansa Yogananda

When I Discovered I Was More Than My Body

For the first time, I understood that my consciousness had continued beyond the body I had always identified as myself.

I could still perceive, recognise and experience.

My consciousness had survived beyond my physical body.

That recognition changed everything I thought I understood about death.

Equally extraordinary was the familiarity of where I found myself.

I recognised it.

I had returned somewhere I already knew, somewhere that existed long before my earthly life.

I was home.

Then came something I still struggle to put into words.

The love.

Not the conditional love we so often encounter in human relationships, with all their expectations and limitations.

This was something entirely different.

I felt completely known and understood. Every part of me was embraced by an immense, benevolent Divine presence, including the parts I had struggled to accept.

There was nothing to hide. Nothing to prove. Nothing I needed to become to deserve that love.

I was loved unconditionally, simply because I existed.

For someone who had spent so much of her earthly life struggling with belonging, the recognition was overwhelming.

I had never been separate from the Divine.

I had simply forgotten where I truly belonged.

The God I Thought Had Forsaken Me

For much of my life, I had experienced betrayal, abandonment and scapegoating.

There were times when the suffering was so relentless that I genuinely wondered whether even God had forsaken me.

Why did these things keep happening to me?

Yet beyond the limitations of my physical body, I saw my life from an entirely different perspective.

I had never been abandoned. I had simply been unaware of the Divine presence that had accompanied me all along.

I could see the suffering I had endured during this earthly life without mistaking it for some form of Divine punishment.

The suffering was real. The damage was real.

Yet my experience was about to reveal something more about the people and relationships I had left unresolved during my earthly life.

Making Peace With the Past

What astonished me even more was sensing the depth of love from family members and others I had known who had died before me, including those whose own wounds and limitations had prevented them from loving me while they were alive.

Some of the very people whose actions had caused me so much pain were now expressing a love I had never experienced from them in life.

Whatever had stood between us on Earth no longer seemed to exist.

In my experience as a medium, I have come to understand that those who pass through the veil begin to recognise the impact of their actions and take accountability for how they treated others during their earthly lives.

These realisations helped me find a sense of closure that had eluded me while living through those experiences.

I began to see that their behaviour came from their own limitations and lack of awareness, rather than something I had done to deserve it.

I could finally understand their behaviour without taking it so personally.

As that experience continued, my attention gradually returned to the earthly life I had left behind.

“When you leave this world, you will see that the Beloved is the soul’s companion. Do not fear the passage.”

-Rumi

When I Returned

Here, in the afterlife, I became aware that I now had a choice.

I could remain where I was, within that profound state of love and belonging, or I could choose to return to my physical life.

I chose to return.

There was still something unfinished about my earthly journey.

Yet returning was not the end of what I was to experience.

When I returned to my body, I found myself back in hospital. It was there that I began witnessing something that challenged everything I thought I understood about death.

I perceived Spirit people gathering around patients who were dying.

What struck me was the overwhelming joy and love surrounding these encounters.

I witnessed what I understood to be reunions between those leaving their physical bodies and loved ones who had come to welcome them.

There were adults, children and animals.

It was astonishing, and initially deeply disorientating.

If you would like to read more about my near-death experience and what happened during that time, I have shared the fuller account here:

What stayed with me was the recognition that those approaching death did not appear to be facing their transition alone.

They were being welcomed home.

What I was witnessing seemed to confirm that death was not simply an ending, but a rebirth into another realm of existence.

I have never forgotten that.

Awakening to the Invisible

What I had experienced during my time on the other side had changed something fundamental within me, and that change remained when I returned to my physical body.

My third eye had opened, awakening a spiritual perception I had never experienced before or thought possible.

I could now see Spirit people around me and perceive a reality that had previously been hidden from my awareness.

The spiritual world was no longer somewhere I believed we might go when we die.

It had become part of my everyday life. In fact, it was all around me.

Since then, I have been able to use this spiritual perception through my work as a medium and Seer, helping others reconnect with loved ones who have passed.

Over the years, I have witnessed countless moments when those in the spirit world have communicated details so personal and specific that their loved ones recognise exactly who is speaking to them, offering profound confirmation that life continues beyond physical death.

A particular memory. A familiar expression. Something about their personality or a shared experience that carries meaning for the person receiving it.

Do Mediums Really Disturb the Sleeping Dead?

I remember someone once accusing me of disturbing the dead through my work as a medium.

It was an extraordinary accusation, although perhaps not surprising given how deeply misunderstood the art of mediumship remains.

There seems to be an assumption that mediums somehow summon the dead, disturbing their peaceful slumber and dragging them back into the world of the living to satisfy the needs of those who are grieving.

That could not be further from how mediumship, or indeed the spirit world itself, works in my experience.

I do not go looking for the dead. I do not wake them from some eternal sleep and persuade them to communicate with those they have left behind.

In fact, it is quite the opposite.

They come to me.

Why?

Because they still want to communicate with the living. Their relationships with those they love do not end simply because their physical lives have.

In my experience, those who have passed are not waiting to be summoned. They initiate the connection, often impressing upon their loved ones to seek out a medium because they wish to communicate with them.

I simply act as an intermediary through whom that communication can take place.

The Dead Still Walk Amongst Us

Something else struck me during those experiences in hospital.

The Spirit people I perceived were not waiting somewhere in another realm for the dying to reach them.

They were already here, amongst us.

What if the spirit world is not somewhere we travel to when we die, but a reality that exists right here, occupying the same space as our physical world?

Two worlds overlapping, yet our ordinary state of consciousness allows us to perceive only one.

Consider ultraviolet light. It exists all around us, yet remains invisible to the naked eye. Shine a UV torch on certain materials, however, and something previously unseen becomes visible.

It was always there, regardless of whether we could see it or not.

Perhaps the spirit world is not so different.

What if the veil between the living and the dead is not a distance separating two worlds, but a limitation in our ability to perceive the reality that surrounds us?

The Love That Death Cannot Take

If we consider the possibility that the spirit world exists alongside our physical reality, perhaps those we have loved and lost are not nearly as far away as we imagine.

This brings me back to Día de los Muertos, a celebration that reminds us of something much of the Western world seems to have forgotten: death does not have to mean the end of our connection with those we love.

They do not simply disappear from our lives.

In my experience, they continue to guide us, reach out to us and make their presence known, often in ways we do not immediately recognise.

With that in mind, I believe we all have the ability to communicate with those who have passed, particularly through our dreams, when our waking consciousness no longer places the same limitations on our perception.

Perhaps one of the greatest barriers to recognising this connection is our own belief that such communication is not possible.

This is what I find so moving about Día de los Muertos. It is a celebration that welcomes the dead back into the lives of those who remember them, rather than treating death as something that must separate us from those who have passed beyond the veil.

Perhaps we have lost some of the ways we once knew how to remain connected to them.

The physical relationship has changed.

The love has not.

“For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.”

-Kahlil Gibran | The Prophet

The Gift of Life

People sometimes assume that having experienced what I did must make me eager to return to the spirit world.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I appreciate being alive even more now.

I chose to come back for a reason.

I value my physical existence, the people I love, the experiences I have yet to encounter and the continuing journey of discovering the purpose I came here to fulfil.

We are living through extraordinarily challenging times, and like so many others, I have no idea what the future may hold.

Yet having come so close to losing my life, I recognise it as a precious gift from Spirit, and I have no intention of allowing fear of an uncertain future to rob me of it.

There will be suffering, loss and circumstances beyond my control.

That is part of being human.

Yet I did not return to this world simply to exist.

I came back to live it with all my heart.

When Death Lost Its Power Over Me

My determination to embrace life does not come from believing that being human will somehow become easier. My near-death experience changed how I understood my own mortality, and with it, how I respond to the difficulties of earthly life.

I still experience pain. I still grieve. I still feel the full range of emotions that come with being human.

There are days when life is extraordinarily difficult.

Yet I no longer believe that physical death means the annihilation of everything I am, or that the love I have experienced will disappear when my body ceases to function.

I had experienced myself beyond my physical body, free from the identity I had known and the circumstances that had once defined me.

I came back knowing that who I am is far greater than the life I am living.

When I stopped fearing death, I stopped fearing life.

That is the greatest gift I brought back with me.

Not an escape from being human.

The freedom to be fully human.

To experience life’s difficulties without allowing them to define who I am.

To recognise just how precious this earthly existence is, precisely because it is temporary.

To embrace the uncertainty of life, knowing that I do not need to control what happens next in order to appreciate being here.

One day, I will leave this physical world again.

When that moment arrives, I know I will be going home, to somewhere profoundly familiar, where those I have loved will be waiting to welcome me.

Until then, I have a life to live.

Death no longer holds the power it once held over me.

Perhaps that is why I have never felt more grateful to be alive.

Why We Need to Change the Conversation About Death

It is my dying wish, pun very much intended, that others might one day experience that same gratitude for both life and death.

Perhaps it is time we stopped treating death as the one subject nobody wants to talk about and started questioning why we have become so afraid of something that is as much a part of life as birth itself.

That is precisely why I have devoted these two articles to exploring Samhain and Día de los Muertos. Not simply to honour those who have passed, but to challenge the fear we have inherited about death, and perhaps even life itself.

For what if death is not the end of our existence, but simply a transition from one state of consciousness to another?

What if understanding this could free us from so much of the fear that prevents us from fully embracing the life we are here to experience, and loving wholeheartedly, without allowing the fear of loss to hold us back?

I have shared my experiences. Now I would genuinely love to hear yours.

So, who is brave enough to join the conversation?

Afterword: A Rather Extraordinary Synchronicity

Before I finish, there is one rather extraordinary synchronicity I feel compelled to share.

I had intended to publish this article a couple of days ago, but for various technical reasons, that did not happen. Instead, it was published today, 4 November, within the brief window of Mercury retrograde’s cazimi with the Sun in Scorpio.

None of this was planned, which makes the timing all the more remarkable.

For those familiar with astrology, the symbolism is difficult to overlook.

Scorpio is associated with death, rebirth, transformation and the great taboos of human existence. It takes us into those places we would often rather avoid, asking us to confront what lies beneath the surface, including our deepest fears about mortality.

Mercury, meanwhile, is the messenger between worlds. In mythology, he guides souls between the realms of the living and the dead. As a medium, I find that connection particularly meaningful.

A cazimi is no ordinary conjunction. It occurs when a planet enters the very heart of the Sun.

In traditional astrology, rather than being overwhelmed by the Sun’s power, the planet is considered strengthened and illuminated by it.

The Sun represents consciousness, that which brings what was previously hidden into awareness. A cazimi is therefore regarded as a moment of exceptional potency, when the planet’s deeper influences are brought into the light.

Consider the symbolism of Mercury, the messenger between the living and the dead, entering the heart of the Sun in Scorpio, while I publish an account of my own journey beyond the veil.

We certainly do live in an intelligent and orderly universe.

Perhaps the spirit world really does want us to understand life and death at an even deeper level.

There is, however, one more aspect of Scorpio that I feel deserves mentioning.

Scorpio loves deeply. Intensely.

It understands that love is not something we experience without also making ourselves vulnerable to loss.

Which brings me to one final question.

Who in your life needs to know just how deeply you love them?

How often do we leave those words unspoken, believing there will always be another day, another conversation, another opportunity?

In my work as a medium, I have witnessed the longing to communicate what was never said in life. The love, the gratitude, the apologies and sometimes the simplest words that someone wishes they had spoken while they still had the chance.

Yet why wait until we have crossed into the spirit world, hoping to find a medium to convey what we could have expressed ourselves?

Tell them now.

Tell them now, while you can still look them in the eyes and let them hear, in your own words, just how much they mean to you.

Do not leave the most important things you feel for someone unspoken, assuming there will always be another day to say them.

Go on, be brave.

Love wholeheartedly. Say what needs to be said. Live as though today could be your last.

Not because death is something to fear, but because love and life is something to embrace.

After all, none of us knows how much time we have left.

A difficult truth to face, perhaps, but a truth nonetheless.