I was a psychic medium skeptic until I met my friend Felix years ago on a date. He made me a believer in his abilities. This week Miguel and I shared a session with him. My Grampa Walter came thru for me.

My Grampa was born in 1910 in a small Québec village. When he was five his family moved to the US from Canada. I was born on his birthday in 1981 and given his name as my middle, which I later made my first. Because we share a birthday I’ve always felt connected to him, even tho he scared me while he was alive. I only have a handful of memories of him, since he died when I was six. All but one are negative. In the positive memory, I sat on his lap while he taught me “three blind mice.”

On my altar sits his ring with our birthstone—a large fake ruby. A week and a half ago, I picked it up and thought of him. I probably haven’t held it in my hand like that for years. While on the topic of my Grampa, Felix asked “What’s up with a ring?” I said, “I have his ring.” Felix replied, “He’s showing me you picked it up recently and thought of him. He wants you to know he was with you when you did that.”

Felix reported what you’d expect: my Grampa loves me and is proud of me. He also added that the two of us are a lot alike. That surprised me since I’ve mostly thought of him as being mean. Felix explained, “You’re both very sensitive, but you’re able to live it out while he had to suppress it. You’re healing what he wasn’t able to.” Knowing the cultures we grew up in, say no more.

At the end Felix added, “He’s showing me making sausages in the traditional way, with the casings, and they’re linked together?” One of my earliest memories was the production of blood sausages in my grandparents’ farmhouse. This food was a favorite, and it mostly disappeared from the family after he left. Along with the ring, this quieted the still skeptical part of my mind.

What I love about these sessions is how my nervous system feels ironed out after. I feel calmer, more at peace. On some level it doesn’t matter if it’s real—as it speaks to the soul, not the mind.

This photo is from my Grampa’s naturalization papers. Last month on our birthday he would have turned 115 years old.