Kelly Lightworker is a psychic medium, Tarot reader, and spiritual practitioner based in Singapore. A natural-born channel with a lifetime of practice, she has worked professionally since 2014 with private clients and luxury brands worldwide — operating under the guidance of the Goddesses.
He had lived alone in a house in Sydney. When they found him, it had been two weeks.
I will not describe what two weeks looks like. You can imagine it, or you can choose not to. Either way, his family began to fall apart almost immediately — the arguments over money and inheritance, the illnesses arriving one by one, three family members admitted to hospital after a traffic accident. When his wife stepped into the house to begin cleaning, she tripped at the threshold and fractured her hip.
That was when they called me.
When I connected with him, I saw immediately that he was trapped — caught between the house and whatever lay beyond, furious and terrified in equal measure. Anger is almost always fear in disguise. His certainly was.
The energetic connection I opened allowed him to travel, temporarily, beyond the walls of that house. Into mine.
My fever started that same evening.
That night, I dreamt:
An old man walking in circles around my bedroom, agitated and distressed. He needed to call his family. He found my old mobile — I had recently switched phones and left it on the shelf — and tried to dial. Couldn’t get through. In his frustration, he flung it on the ground.
I awoke with a start. The phone lay face down on the floor.
I proceeded with the ritual. Without knowing much about the deceased — his family had not been close to him in life, and couldn’t tell me — I went ahead on faith and on what I could sense of him. I saw him beginning to move. I saw Guanyin arriving, her presence unmistakable, gentle and absolute. I believed the escort was complete.
I was wrong.
For seven days after, I felt drained. Depleted in a way that sleep could not heal. I had the persistent, distinct sensation of being followed.
I went to my mentor — a Thai Buddhist monk who has known my work for years — for a cleansing bath with holy water.
He and his assistant met me at the gate. Their smiles faded into worried frowns, their gazes drifting behind me.
The assistant came forward, eyes downcast — direct eye contact with the restless dead is not a risk worth taking — and whispered: “Young man behind you. Quickly.” She ushered me in. Surprised, I followed in silence.
Once I was inside, the ritual began without preamble. My mentor chose a different sutra — not the one he uses for routine cleansing. I closed my eyes. Something was shifting in the room.
Then I saw him.
Not old — a young man standing at the main door, looking in. Dressed in white. Angel-radiant. Perfect.
I froze, momentarily confused.
The face. That was the face of someone I love deeply and know well. The face I carry in my heart everywhere.
Then I understood. He had borrowed that face on purpose. Worn it like a mask so he could stay with me undetected, and take my life force for himself. So he could keep following me home.
Our eyes met — he flinched.
Forgive me, he said. I was too scared.
I completed a second escort that evening. Tired, this time, more than anything else — but precise.
A different ritual this time — water poured into the earth, prayers offered to the gods of the earth and under the earth, asking them to receive him, to hold him, and to sever every remaining connection to the realm of the living.
Signed. Sealed. Delivered.
My fever broke hours after the ritual; I recovered slowly over the days that followed. So did his family — the illnesses lifting, the tension easing, the family members discharged from hospital.
He had simply been a frightened man who died alone, and who didn’t want to be alone anymore.
I can understand that.
But the living have their lives to return to. And the dead have somewhere to go, if someone is willing to walk with them long enough to get them there.
This is the work of a psychopomp. It is part of what I do. Not the whole of it — but the part that reminds me why precision, protection, and genuine spiritual training are not optional in this work. They are everything.
The events in this account are true. Certain details have been changed, and some cases condensed, to protect the privacy of those involved.
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