Grief doesn’t care if you’re psychic. It doesn’t make exceptions for intuitives, empaths, or astrologers. It crashes into your life anyway—uninvited, unexpected, and absolutely devastating. And that’s exactly what happened to me on March 14, 2025, when I found out my brother David passed away in his sleep.
The shock has been bone-deep. And that word—shock—doesn’t get the attention it deserves when we talk about grief. People always mention the “five stages”: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. But shock isn’t denial. It’s something else entirely. It’s the soul going quiet, the body going still, the spirit freezing time because reality hasn’t caught up with your heart yet.
And this time, my grief came with a layer of confusion, disbelief, and personal pain—because as a psychic and someone who had been regularly checking my brother’s astrology, I truly didn’t see this coming.
I Was Watching His Chart—But More for Maggie
I had been tracking David’s astrology closely, but not so much for him. I was using his chart to monitor Maggie, his cat, who meant everything to him. We never had Maggie’s birthdate, so his chart became the proxy. It worked. Every time she had a flare-up or breakthrough, I saw it through his sixth house, or his transits to the Moon. He timed her vet visits based on this knowledge. Literally saving her life by rushing her to the vets two weeks before he passed based on the astrology.
So imagine my confusion when I got the call.
He hadn’t been feeling his best, but nothing alarming. He had a respiratory condition, but he was actively treating it. He was going to doctors, running tests. In fact, one set of bloodwork had just come back normal. He was tired, yes—but managing. Living.
Even on his final day, he was out driving, shopping, eating, drinking, and taking care of Maggie. I spoke to him at 6 p.m. the night before, and he was sitting with Maggie, relaxed, getting ready to watch the Boston Bruins—completely at ease.
There were no indicators. No signs. No messages. Nothing in his voice. Nothing in the sky that screamed, this is the end.
What the Astrology Did Say
Astrologically, David did not have a classical “death transit.” There was no Pluto square to the Sun. No eighth-house triggers. What he did have was a near-death experience transit—which astrologers recognize as moments of energetic passing, transformation, or surrender, but not always physical death.
These kinds of transits often involve Pluto, Neptune, or eclipses, and can manifest as:
• A brush with death
• A massive emotional clearing
• A spiritual rebirth
• Or, in some cases… a soul exiting gently, without much warning
This is where I missed it. Because it wasn’t loud. It was subtle. Almost peaceful. It looked like surrender—not departure.
The Full Blood Moon Eclipse & Schumann Resonance
David passed during the Full Blood Moon Eclipse, a time already known for powerful energetic exits. But this eclipse was even more amplified. The Schumann Resonance—the Earth’s energetic heartbeat—was down for 36 hours around the time he passed. No frequency. No rhythm. No grounding.
When the Earth’s electromagnetic field collapses, even temporarily, sensitive souls can be pulled into transition. I’ve seen it before. I’ve guided clients through it. But I didn’t think it would be my brother.
The Sixth and Twelfth Houses: Health and the Unseen
In David’s chart, both the 6th house (health, physical body) and the 12th house (unseen illness, surrender, spiritual transition) were highly activated.
As a Pisces, he already carried a deep connection to the spiritual realms. His Pluto was in the 12th house, a placement that can sometimes suggest a quiet, karmic exit—not from drama, but from a place of deep release. And yes, Pluto in the 12th can be intense. It can indicate hidden enemies, medical mysteries, or sudden exits that don’t make logical sense.
But it’s also a sign of immense spiritual strength. People with this placement often carry the pain of others. They are natural healers, protectors, and quiet warriors. David was all of that.
I don’t want anyone reading this to be afraid if you’re a Pisces or have Pluto in your 12th. It doesn’t mean you’re doomed. It means you feel more. You hold more. And sometimes, the soul chooses an exit point that looks peaceful from the outside, but is deeply complex beneath the surface.
Psychic Doesn’t Mean Omniscient
There’s this assumption that psychics should always know. That we should never be caught off guard, that we should see every twist in the road. But we’re here to live, too. We’re here to grieve. To love. To lose. To feel. And to sometimes get crushed by the very things we think we should’ve seen coming.
I’m not ashamed that I didn’t see it. But I am heartbroken.
Because this is the part no one talks about. The shock of being so spiritually connected, and still being surprised by death. The grief of loving someone so much, and feeling like maybe you should’ve warned them—when you know in your heart there was no warning to give.
I’m Still In It
I’m not writing this blog because I have answers. I’m writing it because I need to name the space I’m in. I’m grieving. I’m shocked. I’m exhausted. I’m waking up every day to a world that feels different. And I’m holding Maggie close, knowing she lost her world, too.
Grief is messy. It’s nonlinear. And yes, it’s spiritual. But it’s also deeply, heartbreakingly human.
So if you’ve lost someone suddenly, or if you’ve ever asked yourself, “Why didn’t I know?”—please know this:
Even the psychic didn’t see it coming. And maybe, just maybe, that’s part of the plan we don’t get to change.