The 1989 Green Marble Gazebo: Why I Chose My Path as a Psychic Medium

As a virtual psychic medium providing email readings, I am often asked when my intuitive path began. It wasn't in a classroom; it was in 1989, during a period of deep grief in Indiana that changed how I understand the soul’s connection to our love and career paths.

The Birthday Gift I Didn’t Expect

Most people remember their tenth birthday because it’s their first "double-digit" year. For me, 1989 is engraved in my memory for a much heavier reason. I was in Indiana, visiting family while my grandfather was losing his battle with brain cancer. That morning, the news came: he was gone.

It’s a strange thing for a child’s mind to hold—the celebration of a birth and the finality of a death happening on the same calendar square. I wasn't upset about a "ruined" birthday; I was just lost. It was the first time I had ever looked into the face of real loss, and it seemed like a cold, heavy fog had spread across our family.

A Hug from Nowhere

After two very cold winter nights, the house was still full of deep sadness. I recall lying in bed in my grandfather's old room, trying to figure out what was going on when the air in the room suddenly changed. It wasn't a draft or a change in temperature; it was a deep, warm feeling. It seemed like a physical hug, almost a literal "weight" of comfort that told me it was okay to finally let go and sleep. For a ten-year-old, that was the first time I understood that peace could exist in the middle of a storm.

Traveling to the Green Marble Gazebo

That night, I didn't just dream; I traveled. I was in a structure that looked like a massive gazebo built from stunning, deep green marble. Outside the pillars, there was only light.

My grandfather was there, but he definitely wasn't the man I had seen sadly fading away in a hospital bed. He seemed vibrant. He told me he was getting younger every day. The conversation we had was far beyond what a child's brain could invent. He spoke with an adult clarity, explaining that he was okay and that everything would be alright. It was a strong, soul-level reassurance.

Why I Carry This Into My Professional Practice

The next day, as the waves of grief hit the family again, I experienced a solid, warm hand on my shoulder. I knew immediately it was him. He wasn't "gone"; he was right there, reaching back across the veil to steady me.

That experience in Indiana was the "waking up" of an ability I didn't have a name for yet.

Today, I use this gift to help others obtain clarity. Whether I’m performing a chat reading about a complicated relationship or a detailed email reading for someone at a career crossroads, I am pulling from that same sense of tranquility I found in the green marble gazebo.

We are not ever truly walking alone.