04/05/2025
Jacks Story 💔 this popped up in my feed on the morning of the 10th anniversary of Kys fateful decision to end his life …..
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1BwxMSdX4R/?mibextid=wwXIfr
Here is the transcript of the automatic writing session and mediumship connection I held with Jack today.
(Spirit Guide Portrait and Story Shared with Permission)
"Jack's Story -Through His Eyes"
If you were to look at that photo of me, the one where I'm smiling with my friends, sunlight on my face then you’d probably think, 'He looks happy. He’s got everything together.' And for a long time, you would have been right.
I grew up in a normal house on a quiet street, in a town where everyone knew each other’s names. My parents were kind and steady people. They worked hard, loved hard, raised me with everything I needed: safety, laughter, encouragement. I didn’t grow up with trauma or darkness. I had a good childhood, one of bike rides until the streetlights came on and backyard barbecues that stretched into the night.
School came easy enough. I made friends, real ones, the kind you think you’ll keep forever. I was never the loudest in the room, but people trusted me. Maybe because I was the kind of person who would listen without trying to fix everything. I liked that about myself.
When it came time to step into adulthood, I followed the map everyone draws for you: college, job, steady rise. I found myself working as a finance manager for a company that, for the most part, treated me well. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was solid. Good salary, respect from my colleagues, a future I could build a life on.
If you had asked me then, I would have said I was doing everything right and for a long time, I believed that.
There were so many good days. I cherished those days.
Nights spent around crackling bonfires, passing guitars back and forth, telling stories that had no real point except to make each other laugh until our sides hurt.
Weekends at the lake, sunlight dancing on the water, a cooler packed with sandwiches and sodas, and the sound of my friends calling out challenges for who could swim the furthest.
I remember thinking, more than once, how lucky I was. To have these people. This life.
There was someone else, too. Her name was Emma.
She wasn’t just a love story. She was a chapter of my life.
Emma had this way of lighting up a room, but it was never loud or showy. It was just … warm. Like sitting next to a fire you didn’t realize you needed.
We built something real, or so I thought.
Late-night conversations where we planned futures, like a small house, maybe two kids, trips to Italy someday when we could finally afford it.
I used to dream about proposing to her on a hillside at sunset, something simple, just us and the sky.
But sometimes life cracks open in places you never expect.
One day she said she needed 'time to figure things out.'
Then 'space.' Then nothing at all.
It wasn’t one sudden heartbreak; it was a slow unraveling.
A million tiny cuts I kept telling myself weren’t serious until I realized I was bleeding out.
My friends tried to pull me back - they invited me out, they checked in. I smiled. I laughed. I said all the right things.
But somewhere inside, something quieter was happening.
A silence had started to grow inside me.
A kind of loneliness you can feel even in a crowded room, even with laughter all around you.
It wasn’t just about Emma. It was about something deeper.
A feeling that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t enough.
Not for her. Not for this life I’d built. Not even for myself.
But still, I showed up. I kept going to work. I kept making plans with friends. I kept smiling for photos, like the one you see now.
Because that’s what you do, right? You hold it together.
You keep walking, even when you don’t know if the road is leading anywhere.
I tried. I want you to know that.
When the weight inside my chest grew heavier, when sleep started slipping through my fingers like water, I didn’t just sit in the darkness.
I tried to fix it.
I bought the self-help books, the ones that promised new beginnings. I downloaded meditation apps. I went for long walks until my legs burned and the sky folded itself into stars above me.
I even sat across from a therapist once, staring at a bookshelf instead of her eyes, trying to explain a sadness that didn’t make sense to me.
Because from the outside, my life was still "good."
I still had friends. I still had a good job. I still had people who cared.
And yet, there was this widening space inside of me.
A silence too loud to ignore.
A feeling that no matter how much good surrounded me, it couldn't quite reach the place that was quietly falling apart inside.
There were good days, too.
Days when the sun broke through the clouds in my mind, when I laughed without faking it, when I felt like maybe I was finding my way back to myself.
I held onto those days like lifelines.
I clung to every text from a friend, every joke that made me genuinely laugh, every song that stirred something still alive in me.
I wanted to believe that was enough.
But depression. Real depression ... isn’t always loud.
It’s not always tear-streaked or dramatic.
Sometimes it’s just ... Empty.
A slow fading. A subtle forgetting of how it feels to be truly alive.
I kept smiling in photos. I kept telling people I was fine.
I kept showing up to birthday dinners and happy hours and pretending not to notice the way the world seemed a little further away each time.
I wasn’t giving up. I was fighting a battle nobody could see.
I was trying to find a reason to believe I could still be whole.
The night I left, it wasn’t with anger.
It wasn’t with hate.
It wasn’t even with fear.
It was exhaustion.
A tiredness that ran so deep, it felt like it had settled into the bones of my soul.
And in one fragile, breaking moment, I thought maybe the world would be better off without the weight of trying to carry me.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone. God, I never wanted to hurt anyone.
If anything, I just wanted the hurting inside of me to stop.
I wanted peace.
I just didn’t know how to find it in the life I was living.
When I took that final step, when my heart stopped beating, there was a moment where everything became still.
A stillness so profound it felt like the earth had exhaled around me.
And then ... I saw them.
My parents, my friends, the people who loved me, the ones I thought would be better off without me ... They were shattering into a million broken pieces.
I saw the way my mother’s body crumbled into my father’s arms when she heard the news.
I saw my friends’ faces go pale, their hands shaking as they whispered in disbelief.
I saw the hospital room, the memorial service, the moments of silence too loud to bear.
I wanted to reach out. I wanted to scream, 'I'm sorry! I didn’t mean for this!' I wanted to wipe away their tears and take away their pain.
But I couldn’t. I could only watch, helpless, as the ripples of my absence moved through their lives.
For a moment, I thought this was my punishment, to watch the people I loved hurt because of me. And I wept.
A soul-deep weeping that I thought would tear me apart, even from the world I wanted to so desperately be apart of ... But then ... something happened.
A light, so pure and so encompassing, wrapped itself around me.
It wasn't blinding; it was soft, like being held in arms that had waited forever just to pull me close.
There was no judgment. No anger. No shame. Only love.
Love like I had never known. The kind that saw every mistake, every sorrow, every broken piece inside me, and called it holy.
The kind that didn’t ask why I had fallen, but simply gathered me in and said, 'You are still worthy. You have always been worthy.'
I was not cast out. I was not condemned. I was understood, completely, in ways I had never even understood myself.
There were others too, familiar souls, radiant beings of light.
Some I recognized instantly: old friends who had passed before me, grandparents whose faces I had only known from faded photographs.
Others, older still, who had been guiding me unseen through every lonely night.
They came to me not with questions, but with knowing.
They placed their hands on my spirit and whispered, 'You are not broken anymore, you never were. You are loved.'
And as I stood there, between the world I had left and the world I was stepping into, I realized something: I had never been alone.
Not once.
Even in my darkest nights, even when the silence roared inside me, I was being held. I just couldn't see it, feel it or recognize it then.
Now, from here, I see it all.
The love that tried to reach me.
The hands that tried to hold me.
The light that never stopped burning for me, even when I could no longer feel its warmth.
If I could tell you anything now, it would be this:
Your pain does not make you unworthy.
Your sadness does not make you invisible.
Your struggle does not make you less deserving of love.
You are needed. You are seen.
You are infinitely loved, even when you cannot see it.
If you ever find yourself standing at the edge, wondering if the world would be better without you, please, hold on.
There is more light ahead than you can possibly imagine.
And if you could see it, even for a moment, you would know:
Your story is not finished yet.
And you are so, so loved.
"Jack’s Message to You"
If you’re reading this, and you're standing in the heavy stillness of your own sadness, please let me be a voice that reaches you through the mist of your darkness.
I know how hard it is.
I know what it feels like when even breathing feels like work.
When the world seems stitched together by threads you can't quite hold onto anymore.
When the idea of speaking the truth of your pain feels almost impossible, too vulnerable, too frightening, too much.
But I need you to know this: You are not too much. You are not a burden. You are not broken beyond repair.
Your heart may be bruised, your spirit weary, but you are still worthy. Worthy of love. Worthy of being heard. Worthy of healing.
Even if you don’t believe it yet.
Please, talk to someone. Even if the words come out messy.
Even if all you can say is, 'I don’t know what’s wrong.'
Even if all you can manage is, 'Please help me.'
There are hands willing to catch you.
There are ears willing to listen without judgment.
There are hearts willing to carry the weight with you until you are strong enough to hold it yourself again.
You don't have to battle this alone. You were never meant to.
There is more life ahead of you.
More mornings filled with colors you haven’t seen yet.
More laughter you haven’t laughed yet.
More moments of unexpected grace that will make you glad you stayed.
I promise you, the darkness you are standing in now is not the end of your story. It is only a page.
There are chapters ahead you cannot yet imagine. Chapters filled with light, with healing, with love deeper than any hurt.
You are loved, even when your mind tells you otherwise.
You are needed, even when you feel invisible.
You are enough, exactly as you are, right now.
You are enough, simply because you exist.
Please stay.
Please hold on a little longer.
There is a dawn waiting for you, even if you cannot see it yet.
And when you reach it, you will understand.
Your soul was always stronger than the storm.
Jack’s Message for The Souls Like Him
May you find the strength to speak your truth, even when your voice shakes.
May you be met with kindness and open arms.
May you feel the silent prayers of those who believe in your tomorrow.
May you awaken to mornings filled with light you once thought you’d never see.
And may you always, always remember you are loved beyond measure, needed beyond understanding, and destined for more than your pain.
I am walking with you from where I am now.
And I believe in you.
Stay with us.
Stay with life.
Your story is not over yet.
Jack's Final Message For Those Left Behind (After Su***de)
To those whose hearts are carrying the unimaginable weight of loss,
Please hear this:
It was not your fault.
It was not because you didn’t love enough, listen enough, show up enough.
It was not because you failed them.
It was not because you were not enough.
Sometimes, the pain a soul carries runs deeper than words can reach, hidden behind smiles, behind everyday moments, behind a thousand reassurances of 'I'm fine.'
Sometimes the weight becomes so heavy that even the strongest hands grow too tired to hold it.
And when they crossed over, when their spirit slipped from this world to the next, they were not met with punishment, nor with judgment.
They were met with love.
They were gathered instantly into the arms of those who had gone before them into the arms of ancestors, friends, old loves, kind souls who had always been watching and waiting with open hearts.
No one crosses over into darkness.
They cross into light.
Into a place where all the pain, confusion, and sorrow begins to fall away like old garments.
Where they remember who they are, whole, luminous, beloved.
If your heart aches with questions you cannot answer, if guilt haunts your dreams, if forgiveness feels too heavy to hold, know this:
They are not asking for your forgiveness.
They are sending you theirs ... soft, radiant, complete.
They wish for your healing.
They wish for your peace.
They wish for you to live, and to love yourself the way they see you now, without blame, without burden, without shame or regret.
The path of healing after such a loss is not a straight line.
It is not quick, and it is not easy.
It is a road of memories, tears, setbacks, quiet moments of progress, and unexpected bursts of grace.
And every step you take, even the devastating ones, it is witnessed and honored by those who walk beside you in spirit.
You are never walking alone.
Every breath you take, every tear you shed, every smile you manage to find again, please know that it is wrapped in the quiet love of those who stand just beyond your sight, cheering you forward with a patience that only eternity understands.
They are safe. They are held. They are healing, too, just as you are.
In the unseen spaces between this world and the next, love endures. Connection endures. Life endures.
And so will you. You are worthy of love too ... And do your very best to live your life with the joy, people like me, failed to discover for ourselves.
Love Forever,
JACK
Picture: Jack from the Spirit Guide Realm of the After Life
© Images and Story Copyright of Cameron Bayliss 2025
