The dead want us to live

A medium's message.

Jul 01, 2025

Me, my brother Chris, and my sister Jessica, 1995.

My older brother Chris died over Thanksgiving weekend. I miss him every day. I’ve been grieving him, our lost future, and, more than anything, our lost past.

And I am okay.

Chris is dead. Along with all of my grandparents, my uncle, two of my childhood friends, and many, many ancestors.

And I am alive.

As I prepare to quit a stable job and leave my home for five months to travel out of the country, I’m experiencing a lot of doubt and fear. I have to regularly re-convince myself to take this leap of faith, a temporary left turn on life. But, every time, I come to the same conclusion:

I am alive — for now. I want to actually do the things I dream of while I still can. I want to live.

Recently, a medium shared a message with me from my brother; I was not in attendance, but she said he wouldn’t let her read for anyone else until his message was relayed.

He said that he is no longer human, and carries none of the earthly baggage — ego, shame, regret — that we do. That I do. He said that he holds no judgment, and nothing I’m holding onto could sway him from his unconditional love for me. He said he knows I am dealing with some shame and anxiety, and he wants me to let all of that go.

I know what he is talking about.

I don’t think it really matters if I “believe” that this message is “real.” (I interviewed the Long Island Medium in 2016 and came to the same conclusion: what mediums offer human beings, in all our unknowingness and imperfection, is a net good.) What matters is that it reinforces what I already know deep within myself, from the part of me that holds more wisdom than this corporeal version of self could ever grasp.

I know that the dead only want one thing for the living: for us to live as fully as we possibly can.

Fake rules about how one should grieve, or when widowers can date again, or when the right time is to move on — those judgments are for the living. I reject all of it.

I won’t know what the dead know until I join them (which could be anytime, something I remind myself of daily). But it’s my job to push as much bullshit aside and embrace this life in all its vast joy, pain, and pleasure.

Yesterday, I was talking to my therapist about my upcoming travels, and my brother. She said that, if he were here, he would be so excited for me to go on this trip. I instantly started crying, because I know how true that is. My brother was always so supportive and proud of me, constantly sharing how brave he thought I was for forging my own path. I know he would say, “I’m so excited for you, kid.”

I can still have those conversations with him. He’ll be traveling with me. I am learning, slowly, to bring my dead into my life. Chris is as present as the sun. When I close my eyes, I can feel him on my skin.