An Angel Walked Beside Me: Amazing stories of children who touch the other side

An Angel Walked Beside Me

Amazing True Stories of Children with Special Gifts

Joan Charles

Dedication

I dedicate this book to all four of my amazing children who have been and continue to be my greatest teachers, my rocks. They give me endless amounts of encouragement and support; if it had not been for them continually saying, ‘Go on, Mum – do it!’ I might never have taken the first steps on this path which have led to such an amazing journey.

To my grandchildren, my little angels who continually surprise and delight me with their own simple yet amazing gifts.

To my mum and dad, who have passed from the Earth plane, but who gave me many spiritual gifts without realising how important they were.

To Rita, my sister, for giving me love, support and spiritual treasures along the way.

I couldn’t forget my Uncle Joe, who was always my hero and who made my time with him very special.

A special thanks to Ellie and Colin for allowing me to write about their psychic talents and also to my daughters, Dannielle and Simonne, for their stories from when they were young which have helped to make this book possible.

To all the precious friends who have walked the path with me in times of challenge and adversity. They have supported me along the way no matter what. I want to name a few special ones: Maureen, whom I have known since my teenage years, who never judges, always listens and supports, and is constantly there for me; also Myra and Liz; my dear friend and spiritual mentor, Bill Whiland; Stephen and Jenny Cosh, who mean the world to me and continually support me and give sound advice; also my ex-husband Davy, who was truly instrumental in nudging me on my spiritual journey in the early years.

I feel blessed to have had such a wealth of love and support from family and friends. Words alone could never express the real gratitude and love I feel for you all.

I especially want this book to be for all parents and children who are on their own psychic journeys, in the hope that it provides a glimmer of hope, knowledge, support and understanding of the natural gifts with which we all arrived in this world, and that it allows you to take these gifts beyond all limitations on an incredible and amazing journey filled with magic.

Contents

Prologue: Through a child’s eyes

1. The stories that need to be told

2. The journey of life

3. Lost and found

4. Learning and loving

5. A lasting memory

6. The bonds that do not weaken

7. The comfort they bring

8. Crystal children

9. The wonder all around us

10. Indigo children

11. Seeing double

12. Naughty and nice

13. My little friend

14. An extended family

15. Angels, gatekeepers and secrets

16. Reflecting and learning

Afterword

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Credits

Copyright

About the Publisher

Prologue

Through a child’s eyes

I first became aware of my psychic powers when I was five years old.

Actually, that’s not true. I always knew I had those powers; I just didn’t understand them.

When I was little, I always felt very alone, very isolated. I didn’t know my place and I wasn’t quite sure how to fit in. I was a shy child and constantly being told by my mother that I was ‘highly strung’. What I really felt was that I had been invited to join a game but no one had told me the rules. I had a sense of there being something waiting for me, something that was my destiny, but, of course, I couldn’t put it into words at such a young age. I always felt awkward, and I spent a lot of time sitting in corners, waiting, waiting, waiting – what was I waiting for? My life to start. My real life to start. The one in which everything made sense and the world stopped being such an unfathomable place. It would be a long time before that happened, but, when I was five, I got a glimpse of what I was waiting for and what was waiting for me.

Before I started school, my family – a very traditional, solid, working-class family – had moved from Port Glasgow in Scotland to Burnley, Lancashire. We lived in a house on the same street as my dad’s brother, Uncle John, but I didn’t have much to do with him. One night I was lying in bed. My little sister Rita was fast asleep in the bed next to me, but I was wide awake. It was dark, and my bed was positioned by the window. The curtains were open and I could see the moon shining high above me, but it wasn’t comforting. I couldn’t sleep because I had a terrible feeling of dread knotting my stomach and playing on my mind. I often had trouble sleeping, and this night was no different in that respect; however, none of the usual tricks did me any good. I counted sheep, I thought of nice things like my favourite dolly and I told myself that my mummy and daddy were in the room next door. The outside doors were locked and no one could get in. None of it made any difference, because something inside me knew that locks and doors couldn’t keep everything out.

The sense of waiting – the waiting I always felt part of – was there, but I felt that it would soon be over.

As I lay in my bed, I saw what I still call ‘the Dark Thing’.

Past the open curtains, a figure floated.

It took seconds but, to me, it felt like forever.

The Dark Thing was a terrifying winged shape and the name I gave it was automatic, but I also knew the name other people would use for it.

I was five years old and I had seen the Angel of Death.

Not only had I seen it; I had known, without doubt, what it was.

As it floated past, my heart was in my mouth and I felt terror coursing through my veins. When it had passed, I huddled under the bedclothes and a fleeting thought crossed my mind – was it coming for me? No sooner had the question been formed than I had my answer, an answer which came automatically from deep within me. The Angel of Death wasn’t for me; it was for my Uncle John.

I must have fallen asleep eventually. The next morning, I knew that I would keep it a secret. My family didn’t encourage openness, and I wouldn’t have considered telling them for a second. This was something I had to keep to myself. I remember trying to convince myself that it had been a dream while knowing full well that it had been all too real to me. I had to deal with the memory of the terrifying Dark Thing, and also with my own sure knowledge that it had taken my Uncle John away.

As I’ve said, my family was not one in which children were encouraged to chat openly. It was very much a case of being seen but not heard, so when I went into the kitchen and found my mum and dad talking quietly I didn’t interrupt.

I didn’t reveal what I had seen.

I was quiet as a church mouse and sat on a kitchen chair waiting to be given my breakfast.

I was quiet as they talked in low voices.

I was quiet as my dad shook his head and my mum shed a tear.

I was quiet when I heard them say that my Uncle John had died suddenly the night before.

I was quiet, but I wondered why the Angel of Death had been shown to a five-year-old child and what on God’s earth I was going to see next.

I have never told anyone this story before, but now, as I invite you into my world, it seems only right that I disclose this encounter. I have worked as a psychic medium for almost thirty years – and had the ability to see things for all of my life – but now I have decided to take the next step and share with you what I believe and what I have experienced. Given that I was a child who possessed psychic gifts, and given that some of my own children and grandchildren have also been blessed, I have never doubted the many tales I have heard or cases I have witnessed in which other children make contact with those they love, whether on this plane or on the other side.

I can only tell you what I have observed. It is up to you to make your own judgement about the journey on which I will take you in the pages of this book. I believe that every child – and therefore, every one of us – has the ability to communicate with spirit, and, when they pass, to retain contact with those they love who have been left behind. These whispers from another world can be heard if only we open our minds and souls to hearing them. The stories I will share with you are full of love and hope, yet the angels who act as messengers of tenderness and care are often dismissed, for in the world in which we live we are all too quick to reject the beauty in our lives.

At a time when so many of us are searching for meaning, I would encourage everyone to look at the natural and loving messages which surround us. They can add richness to our daily lives and relationships, giving us guidance and hope. We should cherish those who bring us such messages and listen to whispers from the angels who exist in all of our lives.

Chapter 1
The stories that need to be told

I believe that all children possess psychic abilities, but that many are ignored, dismissed or even punished for voicing thoughts and feelings relating to the spirit world. I’m not suggesting for one moment that there are millions of children all over the world seeing the Angel of Death before they go to sleep at night, but I am suggesting there is an innate ability in most little ones to which we pay very little attention. This lack of attention prevents us from recognising something that we perhaps no longer understand but which could be of tremendous value to us if we simply opened our hearts and minds.

Many people reading this will be parents and I’d like you to pause for a moment and ask yourself some questions.

Has your child ever had an imaginary friend whom he or she is able to describe in so much detail that it sometimes stops you in your tracks?

Has your child ever been inconsolably afraid or inexplicably happy in a certain room or place for no apparent reason?

Have you ever visited somewhere your child has never been before only to find them unsettled or emotional or terrified, or experiencing some other inexplicable emotion?

Have they ever seemed sure that you have been to a place before when you absolutely know that this is their first visit? Does that seem odd to them? Do they take a while to believe you? There could be a reason for it, a reason as clear as day – they don’t believe you, because this place seems so familiar that they can’t believe it is new to them. And perhaps it isn’t.

Have you heard your child laughing or talking when you, the sensible adult, know that there is no one else around? Imagination, you scoff again.

What about when your son or daughter tells you something about a long-gone relative, perhaps a beloved grandparent of yours that they couldn’t possibly know? Do you dismiss that as a comment you must have made to them about that person without remembering it?

What if they point to someone in a photograph, someone who died long before they were born, and tell you something uncannily accurate about that person? Imagination again?

How many reasons – how many excuses – can you keep providing before you have to face up to what is staring us all in the face?

Let’s consider something radical.

Maybe children aren’t making it all up.

Perhaps they do see, hear, smell and sense spirits in a way that makes grown-ups uncomfortable, but which seems perfectly natural to them. Whether you believe that or not, I would like to take the opportunity within this book to tell you about some of my experiences with children.

I can fully understand why some people are sceptical. When I saw the Angel of Death from my bedroom window, I would have loved it if someone had managed to explain it away. I wanted to be ‘normal’, I wanted to fit in. Perhaps there was a defiance in me that prevented me from accepting any so-called ‘rational’ explanations (and I now feel blessed that this was the case), but the terror I felt in those early years was not something I would wish on anyone.

The vast majority of children I have encountered have only happy experiences of the spirit world, whether they are the ones receiving or sending the messages, and I hope this will offer comfort to grown-ups who have lost touch with those abilities in themselves. Opening yourself up (through recognising your own talents or those of the children around you) will not invite terrible things into your life. The experiences I have had are, by far, ones of hope and love – and surely only a fool would reject having more of those blessings in their lives.

The journey I will take you on in this book will be one in which I share the many encounters I have had throughout the years, encounters which have been both beautiful and touching. To get to this stage of my life, I have had to face many challenges, but all of them have been for a reason. During my childhood there were times when I had no control over what was happening, over which spirits were coming through. I wasn’t seeking these experiences, and I wasn’t revelling in them, but they happened anyway. From the age of seven, I knew, every time I looked in the mirror, that I was looking at someone who was here for a purpose. This was terrifying to me. I was only a little girl and I had no idea what this knowledge meant. Why was I thinking that way when I should have been concerned with nothing more complex than playing with other children? The feelings were so strong and they came at such a young age that they scared me. On reflection, as an adult I know that it was my intuition guiding me to the place I am now, but I don’t want anyone to think that I was so egotistical I believed I was more ‘special’ than anyone else. I think everyone has a purpose, but we don’t all recognise it.

By the age of eight or nine, it was obvious that school simply didn’t grab my attention. I spent a lot of time daydreaming, looking out of windows, gazing into space. I had my own inner visions and heard an inner voice as naturally as other children played hopscotch. I dreamed of the day when I would finally be happy and feel ‘normal’ – whatever that was. I wanted to fit in. That would be my paradise. I longed for a time when I would no longer feel like a stray piece of jigsaw in the wrong box. My inner voice told me that everything would be all right and that things would work out, but in reality I was in a world that didn’t seem to have a place for me.

I had friends, but often in the middle of playing with them I would finish what they had been about to say. On one occasion I was with a friend who had a dog. She began to talk, and I immediately interrupted to say that I knew her dog had died the night before. She was surprised, and wondered how I knew – but I just knew things. I was always so highly strung and nervous that every little thing worried me. Looking back as an adult, I can see that this was because I felt too much, I sensed too much around me, and I couldn’t put any of it into words.

I always knew when things weren’t going well between Mum and Dad. I didn’t need to overhear arguments to realise that this was the case. I would lie in bed listening and, if I felt things weren’t right, I would go downstairs and sit near by as I felt that my presence would calm things down. They never told me to go back to bed, so maybe they realised I was helping.

When I was seventeen, I met Davy, my husband-to-be. I loved him so much and knew that he loved me. He was my twin flame, my true connection, and I was very happy, but at the same time something inside me knew it would never last and that we would part. We were so much in love that this seemed a crazy thought, but it haunted me every day we were together. I was right – we did separate; but I have a lot to thank him for as everything that happened in our relationship moved me towards being the person I am today.

My life has been an amazing journey and it’s still far from over. I’ll tell you a little more about how I work as we travel this journey together. One thing that has become clear to me over the years of living and working as a psychic is that we are currently living in a moment when the importance of children with special gifts will become more and more obvious, and I want to share some of my stories with you to explain the ways in which these can manifest themselves. It’s not easy being a psychic child. This is something I know from personal experience.

Learning to communicate with spirit

When the gift is in its early stages, in other words when the psychic is a child, there are few boundaries. They can end up fending off countless spirits all jostling for attention every minute of every day. I sometimes imagine the spirit world as a frantically busy place whenever a new ‘route’ for sending messages appears. They all have so much to say and they all desperately want their loved ones to know that they are fine, so the appearance of a child who can pass on their messages gives them a means of being heard. When I was little, I had no way of making sure that I was the one choosing when and what to hear – and some spirits take advantage of that. Most spirits are well-meaning, but it would still be a draining life if day after day allowed no respite from the barrage of messages being sent through.

As I got older and more comfortable with my gift, I learned more about how to be selective. At times, that involves me being strict about when I’ll accept messages, or it can mean that I block some senders – it’s a bit like having psychic email. Now I only pick up my messages during work hours if possible, I ignore the junk mail, and there are certain senders whom I never encourage.

However, there are still times when it is open season. If I’m preparing for a show, for example, I have to take the firewall down for the day and see who comes through. On such days I get a lot of communication. Sometimes I will sense someone walking beside me, or I will receive a direct message in my head that is clear and precise, like an order. Sometimes I will feel an emotion that I know is coming from someone else, or I will smell something very distinct. It may be that none of it makes sense at that moment, but I know that during the show these will be clues I need to pass on to others. Spirits can use a scent or a name or a place or a feeling to connect with those they have left behind. They will send me messages to prove that what I am saying is genuine, and, to me, this is crucial. I always prove things. Whenever and wherever I can, I will give people incontrovertible evidence by relating facts that I couldn’t possibly know. Once people have been reassured about the genuine nature of my gift, I can move on to the real point which needs to be passed on. Some mediums feel they shouldn’t have to provide proof, but it has always been an integral part of the way I work.

Throughout my psychic development I have had the gifts of clairvoyance, clairsentience and clairaudience. The earliest example of clairvoyance was when I saw the Angel of Death at the age of five. As I got older I felt as if I was watching a TV screen in my mind’s eye, one that was as real as anything else around me. When I imagined myself older and happy, I was experiencing ‘precognitive clairvoyance’, which meant I was seeing myself in the future through a vision.

I always had clairsentience. I felt things even though I often couldn’t explain why I felt them. I could sense or feel when someone was not right in themselves because I would feel it in me too. If someone felt sick, I would feel sick too. I still have that gift very strongly.

Clairaudience came much later in life when I had been developing and working as a psychic for some time. I could always see and feel, but it was a while before I heard anything much. I started to hear a name here and there, and it was as if spirits were allowing me to build this gift slowly so that I could cope. It developed over time and now I hear spirit speak to me internally as a matter of course.

Sometimes one of my gifts works more strongly than another – I just go with whatever comes along and trust that it will all be fine, and this has generally worked very well for me.

On top of these gifts, I have always had the ability to read auras. When I began going to spiritualist churches, giving readings and working as a psychic, auras became more and more clear to me. When I was in my early thirties, I studied aromatherapy and found that the more I worked with people, the more connected I became. I would see flickers of light around them, and sense spirit. As I progressed, I saw changing colours and shapes as well. This is how auras work; they change according to what is happening in the individual’s life at any given time.

There are seven main layers in an aura. The first is a kind of smoky haze, rather like what you would see if you were driving along on a summer’s day after it had been raining. When the sun comes out, the haze begins to rise, and this is very similar to that first, or etheric, layer of an aura.

The second layer is the emotional layer, which has colour. It begins to expand out of the body, and this is where connections are made.

Level three is the mental layer, the one that relates to how we process the intellect or thought. Basically, it is about what makes us tick and it also relates to the way in which things worry us to a greater or lesser degree. When a psychic taps into this layer, they will be able to see, sense or experience how the person copes with things in their life at a practical or logical level.

Level four is the layer referred to as the astral layer. It is the bridge that crosses between the third and fifth layers. The first three are all linked to the physical world of the individual and the way in which they manage in it, but as you cross the fourth you enter into a more spiritual realm of love and greater consciousness. It is rather like a portal between the first three and final three layers.

The fifth level is the etheric template. This layer is a copy of the previous layers, but one that taps into a greater consciousness. It is where physical and spiritual thoughts merge and can become manifestations through focus, love and vibration. A manifestation is when you think about something and focus your attention on it and it happens. It is where anything is possible if we focus on it.

Level six is the celestial layer. It connects with dreams, intuition and greater knowledge. It is turned on through meditation and other spiritual practices that enable mediums to work in these realms.

Level seven is the ketheric layer. This is like a shell that holds all the other auric layers in place. It contains all knowledge and understanding of everything you have ever done, a map of where you have been and what you have done and where you are heading. Very few of us get more than small glimpses of this layer, but I sometimes see it when a person has been reincarnated.

Like most professional mediums, I often take part in shows and tours. The sheer number of people at these events, both in the audience and in spirit, is staggering, but I firmly believe that if a message needs to come through, it will. Those who have passed over have such love for those of us who remain behind on the Earth plane that they keep trying until they finally make contact. Relationships are not ended simply by the passing of one party; they do not fade away because one person is no longer visible to the other.

When I am working at a show I need to use all my gifts to bring messages to the person whom they concern. I will be reading auras, hearing messages, seeing images, feeling emotions and sometimes smelling scents as well, and I have to put together all these signals in order to communicate them to the member of the audience for whom they are intended. I’m going to finish this first chapter with a story that demonstrates the way this can work in practice.

Ben and Hannah

As I stood on the stage at an event one night, I began to receive very strong messages about a young man called Ben. He was only eighteen years old when he had passed. Sometimes a person can pass at a very young age without there being a sense of sadness or pain because they have shut down as a coping mechanism, but with Ben I knew his passing had been traumatic. My body ached as soon as I was connected to him. It was very clear to me immediately from the sensations and imagery I was sent that Ben had been murdered in a completely senseless act. This obviously meant that it was going to be a very difficult communication that would have to be handled sensitively. In order for me to ‘prove’ the truth of the message, I would have to pass on some upsetting information.

‘I have a message here for Ben’s mum,’ I began. A lot of people raised their hands, as it is quite a popular name, but I knew that soon there would only be one woman left. ‘This is hard, and I know it will bring up some bad memories, but I really need Ben’s mum to remember why she’s here tonight. You want to know that he’s okay – and we both know why that matters so very much to you, don’t we?’

Any mother in the audience who had lost a child would want to know whether they were all right in spirit, but I hoped that my words would strike a particular chord with this woman. There were lots of murmurings, as there always are, and then one lady in a row not too far from the front caught my attention. She had lowered her arm but she had never taken her eyes from my face. She was shaking and tears were falling silently down her cheeks.

Despite the fact that I was wearing a microphone, my words were quiet. ‘You know who you are, don’t you? And you know why I’m going to have to say these words. Ben was only eighteen when he was taken from you and it was in a terrible way, wasn’t it?’

Even though I was on stage, I could clearly see the woman shaking. I wished I could go down and hug her, but I also knew that if she stayed with me through this I would be able to bring her comfort that would last forever.

‘He was murdered, wasn’t he? Your beautiful boy was murdered.’

The woman nodded through her tears and the rest of the audience turned towards her. I needed to make sure she knew this wasn’t entertainment, that this was real. I needed to prove it to her.

‘I know that this hurts,’ I said, ‘but if I tell you what I know, what I couldn’t possibly know unless I was being sent it, will that help you to understand that I really do have a message for you?’

The poor woman kept nodding and I could feel her pain. ‘This month, September, is important for you because that’s the anniversary of his death. Am I right?’

Again, she nodded.

‘There were two people involved, I can see that. One of them was less connected than the other, but she did nothing to help, which is why I’m saying two people. I also know that it was to do with money. Your son wasn’t involved in what they were up to, but he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, wasn’t he?’

All through this, the woman wept, but I needed to go on.

‘It was a brutal and unprovoked attack, it was at night, and it was in a dark place. I’m getting somewhere that looks like a very quiet area. Ben was taken by surprise and it was all over in a flash. I know that his killers were caught, but you think they got off lightly. I also know that you know the family of one of them and that you still have to see and be around these people.’

All of this must have been very hard for the poor woman to listen to, but I had to press on and get to what she needed to hear.

‘You’re right,’ she finally said. ‘It’s all true. I don’t know how you know all of that, but you’re right. Thank you.’ She started wiping her tears away.

‘That’s not all!’ I said. ‘What I’ve just told you is just my way of proving that what’s coming next is genuine. Ben is fine, he’s come to terms with what happened and he wants you to reach that place of peace and forgiveness too. He knows that this has been awful for you – not just losing him, not just the trial, but the way in which you’ve had to keep seeing his killer’s family. But he’s being looked after now. That’s what I have to let you know.’

She looked up at me with such hope in her eyes. ‘Has he told you this? Is he telling you this now? Is he here?’

‘No, no, he isn’t here – but the person who is looking after him is.’