When a loved one dies, they usually visit us shortly after their death. Some call this an after-death communication; I call it a rock star moment. This is your personal Big Bang moment with your deceased loved one. But please don’t despair if you’ve never experienced a rock star sign. Some people never do, or some receive these signals years later. Personally, my biggest rock star moment was seeing my sister in my room shortly after her death. This jump started our initial communication. Maybe something similar happened to you, but you weren’t sure if it was real. Maybe you’re worried that you’ve blown your big moment, that your window of communication has closed. It is not the case. You can start at any time by simply telling your loved one on the other end: I miss you. I’m thinking of you. Are you OK? I’m here. Send me a sign. Let them know that you feel excited, happy, tired, angry, depressed. Whatever particular mood you’re in, share it. Ask for (signs) and you shall receive.

Invite your loved one into your world. They have entered another and may be waiting for an invitation to return to theirs. Trust the process and your communication will soon flourish.

Let me share a rock star example for animal lovers (that’s you, right?): Joyce and her family were obsessed with their one animal: a beautiful and vibrant German Shepherd, Leo. At eight years old he contracted kidney disease. It was a rapid and devastating decline that forced the family to put him down. Joyce and her mother couldn’t get over it. Although they were a spiritual family and knew that “his time” must have come from him, and even believed that they would see him again one day, his hearts and intellects were miles apart. Nothing seemed to ease his grievance. Even a year later, Joyce’s mother cried every time she saw another big dog. They wouldn’t let go and had lost much of the joy of their family life.

When he was alive, Leo weighed 85 pounds and had a habit of pushing his heavy body against his sliding glass dining room door when he wanted to get inside. He would stand on his hind legs and rock the glass back and forth with his front legs. It was a loud bad habit, but they loved the energy and enthusiasm of it, and they thought this was fun, marveling at how the glass didn’t come crashing down.

Long after her death, Joyce was home alone, standing at the dining room table going through the mail, when suddenly the sliding glass door began to swing violently from side to side. Living in the Bay Area, she assumed they were having an earthquake and ran. But nothing else moved. Something whispered to him that it was Leo; that he was trying to get her attention. She ran back inside and stared in amazement at the still moving glass. She knew what Leo wanted. She wanted her and her mother to move on with her life, to stop crying. When her mother got home, she told her what had happened and they didn’t die another day. It worked. The crystal remained silent.

Letting go of a loved one is one of the biggest challenges we will ever face. We miss you, we want to freeze you in time and feel the comfort of your presence again. This, however, can freeze them both in place. Letting go leaves room for evolution: of yourself, of them, and of what is meant to be. You can still communicate constantly. After all, they are with you day and night. But the grievance must give way to the celebration of who they were and continue to be. Letting them go is not forgetting them, it’s letting their spirit fly. In turn, they are free to love, care for and guide you.