Best friends for­ever:

Our bond ex­tends be­yond death

Chat It's Fate - - Contents - Skye Orca is a psy­chic medium and Heart Coach. To find out more about Skye's work, visit his web­site skye­ or fol­low him on Twit­ter @Skye_orca

Gone but never for­got­ten

Grow­ing up in South Africa, me and my best friend Clau­dio Sanno were of­ten told sto­ries about ‘tokoloshes.’ These ter­ri­fy­ing dwarf zom­bies were said to mo­lest sleep­ers in their beds, and naughty kids were of­ten warned to ‘be­have or a tokoloshe will get you!’

‘I don’t reckon they ex­ist, do you?’ Clau­dio said to me one day, as we sat in my bed­room, play­ing com­puter games.

‘I don’t know,’ I said thought­fully. I’d been aware of spirit for as long as I could re­mem­ber, had a psy­chic gift – but I’d never seen a tokoloshe.

I al­ready knew that Clau­dio was dead


My young life had been blighted by some­thing far more fright­en­ing than spooks.

From the age of 5, I’d been sub­jected to hor­rific sex­ual abuse by a fam­ily friend. He told me it was ‘our se­cret.’

When I was seven, I’d fi­nally plucked up the courage to stand up to him. The abuse stopped.

But de­spite my dread­ful ex­pe­ri­ences, I knew I wasn’t alone. I of­ten felt an­gels around me, giv­ing me com­fort.

By the time I was 12, I knew I was gay. I was ter­ri­fied about how my fam­ily and friends would re­act.

I was 19 when I broke the news to my mum, Lynette, and Clau­dio. Mum hugged me as I looked at Clau­dio with anx­ious eyes.

‘So what?’ Clau­dio grinned. ‘We can still drink beer to­gether.’

I beamed at him with re­lief. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoul­ders.

With Mum and Clau­dio’s love and sup­port, I came out to the rest of my fam­ily and friends.

Later that year, I was at work at the col­lege in Jo­han­nes­burg where I was a PA. I was in a meet­ing when my mo­bile rang. It was Clau­dio’s mum, Ce­leste.

Be­fore she could speak, a rush of warmth flushed through my body. It was the same feel­ing I had when­ever a spirit was with me. It could only mean one thing…

‘You don't need to tell me, I know,’ I told her. ‘Clau­dio's dead.’

I felt my heart break into pieces.


Armed rob­bers had bro­ken into Clau­dio’s Jo­han­nes­burg home, shot him as he lay on the sofa. He was just 19 years old.

Clau­dio’s fa­ther Rob had also been shot, but thank­fully he'd some­how sur­vived.

I was dev­as­tated by Clau­dio’s death. I missed my funny, warm, lov­ing friend so much that my heart ached. Some days, it was all I could do to get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other.

The fol­low­ing year, I was with Mum in the kitchen of our flat.

‘Can you see that man?’ she asked, look­ing out of the win­dow.

I stared out over the car park, but there was no one there.

But Mum in­sisted she could see a man out­side. I knew she was look­ing at a spirit.

Al­though we were both used to see­ing an­gels, I was scared.

Sud­denly, there was a loud bang, glass shot ev­ery­where. The kitchen light had ex­ploded. What the….? Some­thing very weird was go­ing on.

By the time I was 21, the hor­ror of Clau­dio’s death and the sex­ual abuse I’d suf­fered as a child threat­ened to overwhelm me. I be­came deeply de­pressed. One day, I was hik­ing in moun­tains out­side Jo­han­nes­burg. I went into a cof­fee shop where a lady sit­ting at one of the ta­bles stopped me.

‘I’m sorry for cut­ting your head off in a pre­vi­ous life,’ she told me. ‘Sorry?’ I splut­tered. She gave me her phone num­ber. ‘I’m a medium. You have to come and see me,’ she in­sisted.

A few days later, I vis­ited her at her home. Mar­i­lyn, the medium, told me that she’d been an An­cient Egyp­tian queen. I was one of her dancers, but she’d had me be­headed af­ter I dis­pleased her.

As we chat­ted, Mar­i­lyn smiled.

‘Your best friend is here,’ she

told me gen­tly. ‘He’s watch­ing over you.’

‘Clau­dio!’ I gasped through tears of joy.


Know­ing Clau­dio was still with me re­built my shat­tered heart, filled it with hap­pi­ness.

Mar­i­lyn be­came my spir­i­tual teacher, helped me de­velop my psy­chic gift.

That’s when I learned that glass shat­ter­ing was a sign that great spir­i­tual change was com­ing.

When the light had ex­ploded in the kitchen, it had been a por­tent.

And now it had come true.

In 2009, I got the dev­as­tat­ing news that I had cancer. It was touch and go whether I’d pull through. Be­fore I was due to go for my se­cond op­er­a­tion, I went for a read­ing with a medium. I was de­lighted when she brought Clau­dio through. ‘You’ve climbed a moun­tain,’ he told me through the

medium. ‘Don't worry, it’s all down­hill from now on.’

Re­lief surged through me. Clau­dio’s words meant I was go­ing to be OK.

On an­other oc­ca­sion my grand­fa­ther Gen­naro ap­peared. He too told me I was go­ing to make it.

Sure enough, af­ter three op­er­a­tions, I was fi­nally given the all-clear.

In 2014, I moved to the UK. I suf­fered from de­pres­sion again af­ter my beloved mum passed away. But with the help of the an­gels and my loved ones in spirit, I re­cov­ered.

Now I work full time as a psy­chic medium and an­gel healer.

Peo­ple who have had ex­pe­ri­ences sim­i­lar to mine are sent to me by the an­gels so that I can help them. It’s such an hon­our to be able to com­fort and heal oth­ers who are suf­fer­ing. I’ve had so many dark times, but now through my work I can spread light. Sadly, the rob­bers who killed Clau­dio were never caught, never held to ac­count for what they did. But my loved ones – both here and in the spirit world – have made me be­lieve in the good in hu­man­ity once again. I’m liv­ing proof that you can al­ways re­place fear and pain with hope and joy. All you have to do is keep an open heart. Be­cause if your heart is open, it can be filled with love.

Clau­dio watches over me from the other side

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from UK

© PressReader. All rights reserved.