He Died in the 'Light': A Love Story

By Leonie Hosey

In 2005, Warren Hosey was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. The prognosis was ominous. His doctors told him to get his affairs in order without wasting time. However, they didnt count on his wife, Leonie, and her gift. Leonie is a medium who has received through her channelling a healing method known as Golden Ray Healing. Even though Warren had always been a non-believer, his options were running out. As well as undergoing conventional medical treatment, he allowed Leonie to treat him using Golden Ray Healing. For the next three years, he astounded his doctors by keeping his aggressive tumours at bay. When he finally passed, he asked Leonie to write their story and call it How I Helped My Husband Die. Leonie chose to call it He Died in the Light A Love Story as a tribute to Warrens transformation from spiritual sceptic to someone who believed in the power of healing.

Warren Hosey was a charismatic, glamorous man with a huge appetite for all that life brought his way. Leonie is a gifted medium and natural therapist. She helped to develop Shell and Coral Essences and now teaches Golden Ray Healing to those wishing to heal themselves and their loved ones. This is their story a love story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jun 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477125946

Leonie Hosey

Leonie Hosey is a medium, spiritual healing channel, medical intuitive, kinesiologist, counsellor and homoeopath with 26 years clinical experience nationally and internationally and co-founder and channel of Shell and Coral and Golden Ray Essences.

Book preview

HE DIED IN THE

‘Light’

A Love Story

Leonie Hosey

Copyright © 2012 by Leonie Hosey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-800-618-969

www.Xlibris.com.au

[e-mail]

501735

Contents

Acknowledgements

Foreword

I. The Beginning

II. Growing Up

III. Warren

IV. Our Married Life

V. Doing Time

VI. Warren Finds His Passion

VII. My Spiritual Awakening

VIII. Light Healers

IX. My Shadow Side Discovered

X. Why Weight?

XI. Shell Essences

XII. Golden Ray Healing

XIII. Heading Outback

XIV. Chemo And Radiation

XV. Down On The Farm

XVI. Back Home Again

XVII. Hospitalisation

XVIII. Passing Over

XIX. Communicating With Warren After Death

XX. Warren Speaks

Epilogue. The Rays Of Hope

Glossary

Dedication

To Warren, our families, and the world of Spirit.

The gods conceal from men the happiness of death, that they may endure life.

—Lucan

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Acknowledgements

T o my partner in life Warren who without his messages this book would not have happened. He was inspirational in life and in the afterlife.

To my daughters Melanie and Rebecca, son in laws and grandchildren who have put up with me telling this story and allowing others into our lives.

To my friends, Pam and Jeff, Michelle, Lesley, Nimmi, Kate and George, Malcolm and Diane, John and Linda, Amanda, Michael, Roger, Wendy and Terry, Elayne and Geoff, and Ruth and John who supported me during my grief and still do and to all my clients who over the years have supported my practice and seminars.

To Tim who came into my life during a difficult time and brought joy and happiness back.

To my editor Robyn Swanson who was able to bring it all together in a caring and cohesive way and make our story come true.

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Foreword

I t is dark. My beloved husband Warren is dying. The light of my life is fading fast. We sit by his side, waiting for those last expulsions of human breath to mark his arrival on the other side. He calls out to his children and me, giving those final messages that dying people often do, except he is not calling out aloud but silently into my mind.

I am a channel, able to decipher those messages that loved ones give from the other side. But Warren was still here, lingering in that final stage. Through me, he gave his messages to the girls and their husbands, then a private one to me; only I could hear him anyway.

Suddenly, I had a vision of Warren walking down a corridor, holding the hand of a small blonde girl, being greeted on the other side by a line of well-wishers saying, ‘Good on ya, mate, you’ve finally made it.’ His breath stopped, and he was gone.

I always thought Warren and I would die around the same time, or I would die first. That didn’t happen. Cancer happened, instead, to the man who was the love of my life for forty-six years.

For many years, I gave up my own identity to be with him and others. Later, in the guise of Garth, my spiritual mentor, I went about each day, altering the life cycle of diseases for others. But when it came to my husband, the disease took firm hold and battled with us, fighting Warren for its own existence.

Although in the end cancer won the battle, it did not destroy his soul. He went from being agnostic—or at the very least, a man impossible to have a conversation with about spiritual matters—to talking with his deceased mother before he died. This was not a delusion nor drug-induced but a heartfelt connection.

He learnt about healing and how to function with the disease, always hoping he would be the lucky one. Even though he could be stubborn and sometimes intolerant, he was a gentle man, experiencing the biggest challenge of his life. He connected to his own God within and surprised me on many occasions by ‘getting’ what I had been trying to talk to him about for years.

This story is about how people survive and keep their faith, all the while knowing the inevitable will happen. It is not always a nice story, but then cancer isn’t nice. Cancer is a disgusting element of life that has thrived on this planet for too long, taking its toll on everyone who comes into contact with it.

But neither is it a sad story. It is about the uplifting spiritual journey undertaken by Warren, our family, and myself. After he passed over, he contacted me as he said he would. I have been a spiritual healer, medium, and channel for twenty-two years. I was expecting some contact from him, and he didn’t let me down. He has contacted me through my own channelling and also through another medium. Recently, through that other medium, he suggested that to help me with my grief, I write this story and call it ‘How I helped my husband die’. The story you are reading now is a result of that contact.

I feel that what he meant is how I helped him to live, to believe in God, and how as a healer, I helped support his journey towards the afterlife. For me, the journey healed my marriage. Warren would say the same.

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Chapter One

THE BEGINNING

W hen I was thirteen, Warren came to me in my dreams. He assured me we would be married and have a long and prosperous life together. He also gave me wisdom in order to assert myself and give myself loving times with his children after his death.

Now, looking back over my forty-two years of marriage to Warren, I am not surprised that he died earlier than expected. The signs were there. When he was with the grandchildren, he would invite them into conversation, getting them to express their opinions and then share his opinion with them. He loved urging them on to excellence. There was an urgency to these interactions as though he was determined to imprint them with his values and leave his mark on them.

He didn’t value old age; he didn’t want to be old. Nevertheless, we dreamed of getting old and having the comfort that comes with many years together, being involved with our children and grandchildren, realising all our dreams.

In 2004, Warren retired from the University of Western Sydney, where he was a senior lecturer in computer science. We had finally arrived at a happy time in our lives, with trips and good times on the way. However, life can be contrary. A year later, at the age of sixty-one, Warren was diagnosed with stage IV, lung cancer.

The day he was diagnosed, we came out of the pathologist’s office and opened the report. In stunned disbelief, all I could say was ‘Oh God, Warren, I am so sorry.’ Warren didn’t have any medical knowledge. He had never had anything wrong with him and simply had no interest in his body or disease. However, I knew enough medically to know that he was in big trouble, and even though the medical jargon that had just smashed our lives apart didn’t mean a lot to him, we all know what carcinoma means.

Frozen, we sat on the brick wall outside the doctor’s office, wanting to tear up the report and let it fly away. There was a surreal feeling that this report did not belong to Warren. My husband was too young and healthy looking. This only happens to others, doesn’t it?

We went home and walked around the apartment, trying to do anything but think about what had just happened, trying to pretend we could cope with the news. For the last eight years, we had lived in a beautiful apartment just back from the beach at Cronulla. It was his dream come true. He never became bored with the view or the lifestyle. He would walk out on to the balcony and gaze at the view, feeling the master of his world. He just loved it.

I kept thinking that somewhere in the world a similar diagnosis was happening to other people, not just us. I wanted to tell our girls and be comforted by their love and support, but Warren wasn’t ready to do that. He wanted the prognosis and possible treatment discussed before upsetting them. It nearly killed me to keep quiet. I felt sick to the core.

Warren’s local doctor was as stunned as we were. There had been no symptoms except for a cough that he’d had for some time. Both of us had suffered a bad bout of flu, and even though it took me some time to get over it, Warren’s lingered on for a month or so longer, and he decided to get it checked out. Emphysema was part of his genetic make-up. He had been a heavy smoker but had given it up some ten years earlier.

The lung specialist sent Warren for further tests that revealed multiple tumours. He was a pleasant man, and as he told us the results, he said, ‘Go and do whatever it is that you want to do and make the most of what life you have left.’

I said, ‘Death is not an option, but living with cancer is.’

His reply was ‘I admire your spirit.’

I also told him that we were going to be using complementary medicine. His response was, considering the poor prognosis, he would also try anything. We left his office, not looking at each other, hanging on tight.

Warren was referred to an oncologist. We arrived for the appointment, and it started off professionally enough. The doctor physically examined Warren, read the reports, then sat down and chillingly quoted us statistics, saying that Warren would probably be dead in six months. If he was lucky, he might make it to twelve, but that was unlikely. He said he would give him two to four chemo treatments to give him time to put his affairs in order.

I sat there seething; this man knew nothing about us, our attitudes or our lifestyle, yet he sat there passing sentence. For twenty-two years, I had practised as a homoeopath, counsellor, spiritual healer, medium, and clairvoyant. I told him I would be supporting the treatment with natural therapies, at which he scoffed and said, ‘There is no scientific evidence to the efficacy of their use.’ That further alienated me from wanting to co-operate with him. I looked at him in sheer disgust, at which point he stopped looking bored with the whole process and said there was some evidence that a particular herb had proved to be helpful. Fortunately, I already had Warren on this herb and many other things as well. There was never any suggestion that Warren wasn’t going to use what the doctor prescribed, but we both wanted the best for him.

Doctor Death, as he came to be known, sent Warren to another doctor for radiation therapy. One of the tumours to be treated was on his cervical veterbra 4, which is on the spine at the back of the neck. The radiologist told us that because of the tumour’s location, the cancer could spread into the cervical spine ‘and becoming a quadriplegic wasn’t going to help matters’. Things weren’t looking good.

My husband was a tall, charismatic, good-looking man with a great sense of fun. We were told we would have to wait a month before starting the radiation therapy (so much for the urgency of his condition!), so Warren announced to the radiologist that while he was waiting, he was going to pop over to Italy and continue living his dream. The doctor laughed and said he shouldn’t leave the country unless he took a medical team with him.

While Warren and his doctor were clowning around, I sat there dumbfounded. To top it off, as the doctor was leaving the room, he told Warren to be careful not to sneeze as his head might fall off. This was in reference to the tumour on his neck.

I burst into tears. The doctor’s young female resident who was in the room wasn’t sure what to say. She tried reassuring me that Warren’s head would not fall off. Obviously, I knew this, but I was aghast at the doctor’s attempt at humour.

Two years down the track, I reminded the doctor about his inappropriate comment. He looked a little embarrassed and said, ‘Well, he can’t have sneezed. His head’s still on.’ By that stage, I could laugh, but not then.

We finally told our family. I could no longer handle the fear and grief without them knowing. Our youngest daughter Rebecca has always been sensitive. She noticed I was withdrawn and thought Warren and I must have been at odds with each other. She asked what the matter was. I got up and ran to the bathroom before I broke down. When I came back into the room, we told her and Adam, our son-in-law. She immediately burst into tears, making Warren feel remorseful that he