Dianne Rockwell- Messages From Home

01/31/2026

What a beautiful story of Mavis Pittilla's life and legacy. I'm blessed and grateful to be able to call her mentor.
Thanks for sharing, Jean. 💜

In this powerful and intimate conversation, Ann Théato is joined by Jean Else to explore the life, work and enduring legacy of Mavis Pittilla, one of the mos...

01/22/2026

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“But I always thought that I’d see you again.”

Those words, from Fire and Rain by James Taylor, have lived with me for years. Long before I worked in end-of-life care. Long before I understood just how often one more time is the quiet hope we carry without realizing it.

James Taylor wrote those lyrics from a place of deep, personal grief, yet somehow he left enough room inside them for the rest of us to climb in. To place our own names there. Our own faces. Our own almosts.

This morning, the song came on and I didn’t just cry, I unraveled. The kind of cry that surprises you, the kind that reminds you grief doesn’t always knock before it enters.

“But I always thought that I’d see you again.”

Those words land differently when you know, truly know, that there are no guarantees tucked into tomorrow. That right now is the only thing we are ever actually promised.

End-of-life work has taught me this again and again: people rarely wish they had done more later. They wish they had said more sooner, loved louder, paused longer and chosen kindness when it would have been easier not to.

So let today matter.
Say the things.
Speak gently.
Leave words behind that you would want someone to carry with them if today were the last time they heard your voice.

And if you are lucky enough to wake up tomorrow, do it again.

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net

12/09/2025

Brian's Story

Seventeen years ago, one of my clients was planning her wedding, and was excited to have her son- her only child, walk her down the aisle and give her away at the wedding. Brian was in the military serving in Afghanistan, and six months before the wedding his helicopter was shot down, and all 10 soldiers aboard were tragically lost. I thought of them both often over the next couple of years. One night two years later, a friend and I attended an event at the Hanover Theatre in Worcester, Ma. to celebrate her birthday, featuring an internationally-renowned medium from England. We were hoping for a message from my friend's husband who had also passed two years before. But it seems that there was another plan- instead, this young man named Brian came through. As the medium delivered evidence from Brian and described his personality, manner of speech and the jaunty way he carried himself to a “T” , a woman in the balcony stood up. I immediately recognized her on the stage monitor as the bride who'd lost her son. The medium correctly discerned that this Mom had been convinced to attend the show by her mother and sisters. During the reading, the medium gave more details no one else could have known- the little things about Brian- his sense of humor and personality- even the way he jive-talked and strutted across the stage, the tattoo she got in his honor, etc. Even though I'd never met Brian, I recognized him immediately from conversations that his Mom had shared with me.
A few months after Brian passed, I wanted to send her the book "Our Children Forever" by George Anderson- filled with stories of children communicating through him that they are indeed very much alive and still part of their families' lives. But I just wasn't sure if the timing was right. Then several months later, I “synchronistically” saw an ad for a fundraiser his Mom was organizing in Brian's memory, and I took that opportunity to email her and ask if she'd be interested in a book that might help her in her grief. She thanked me and said she'd be willing to read it- that evening had opened her eyes to the possibility of communication from our loved ones who've passed. She called me the day the book arrived to ask if I remembered that in the reading the medium had said, "Brian's sending you butterflies." It had made no sense at all to her- it was a cold November, and Brian really wasn't a "butterflies" kind of guy. (I don't remember that- I was just so excited to see her in the audience, and I was busy telling my friend the whole story and missed that part.) When she received the book, with the huge, multi-colored butterfly on the cover, it all suddenly made perfect sense. Brian had known months before that I would reach out to his Mom, and used me as the messenger to send her the book. I love the way spirit works... all we need to do is listen and trust. 💜

11/29/2025

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07/30/2025

We're honored to serve your loved ones on the higher side of life as we bring through their essence and personality, and offer the awareness that they walk with you still. 💜

07/30/2025

The 3rd annual VT Psychic Expo is just two weeks away! Come and explore all the offerings available- from readings, classes, workshops and demonstrations- tickets may be purchased in advance to reserve your session, or available at the door. Artists and vendors from all over New England will be offering crystals and crafts and clothing- oh my! Hope to see you there. 💜
P.S. Oh! And did I mention The Fudge Lady will be there with a huge selection of flavors?

🎉 The Workshop Schedule is Here! 🎉

Get ready to expand your mind, connect with spirit, and dive into hands-on learning at the Vermont Psychic Expo, happening August 9–10 at the Champlain Valley Exposition!

With an incredible lineup of teachers, healers, mediums, mystics, and more, there’s something for every seeker—from beginner to advanced. Whether you're drawn to tarot, energy work, mediumship, herbalism, or galactic guidance, this weekend is packed with transformational experiences.

🗓️ Check out the full workshop schedule and plan your weekend of insight and inspiration.
🎟️ Tickets & details: sevendaystickets.com/e/vermont-psychic-expo

06/24/2025

I love this so much... a gift and an honor. 💜

This is a story about one of my doula clients who invited me to be there every step of the way of his end-of-life journey.

He shared what he was feeling and experiencing, from his terminal diagnosis to moments before he died. He had been ill for many years, but things took a turn for the worse and he was told he only had a few months left to live. He asked me to help plan his last few months, which was an honor and a journey for me too, because I became a more intuitive and present doula because of how open, honest, and transparent he was with me. I learn from each person I am present for, which I love and appreciate.

The first few weeks we talked a lot about his life, his accomplishments, what he was most proud of, what he wanted to be remembered for, and his regrets, which there were many. I helped him write letters to the people in his life; some were filled with love and gratitude, some were offerings of forgiveness and apologies, hoping to somehow be able to let things go before he died. I did several rituals with him, allowing him to work through some of his regret, and make peace with his behavior and choices over the years, offering himself forgiveness, and permission to let go of some of the weight he had carried since his youth and into his adulthood.

Days before his death, he told me that he was seeing people in the room, people who had died years before. I asked him if he was afraid, which he wasn’t, and then I asked if he wanted to share with me who he was seeing and what it felt like. His father was killed when he was a small boy, his mother died when he was a teenager, his brother and sister had died at a time they had all lost contact and stopped talking, his wife died in a car accident a few years after his son was born, and his son had died about three years before we met.
He said to me… “they are all here.”

He shared that they didn’t come to him with anger or meanness, he truly felt they had come to let him know he would not go alone, which brought him peace. We talked a lot about what it felt like to be with them again. He said it was a beautiful reunion, with no bad feelings, which he equated to the rituals we had done, and being able to let his own stuff go before they arrived. And while there was a lot of time missed for all of them, he felt that there was no need to catch up, or rehash, or make amends. He felt that it had already been done somehow, and they were all going to be taking the next part of his journey together, as though no time had passed, and there were no harsh words or bad feelings, which he was thankful for.

Prior to their arrival, we had gone through all of his photos, which I helped arrange in a photo album. We went through them again after they arrived so he could show me who was there with him. He said that they all looked as they did in their photos, no one aged.

The day he died, he was incredibly aware of where he was on his journey, aware that he was close, aware that he was dying, and aware that they were all there and he would not be going alone, which was one of his deepest worries and fears early on when we first connected.

Before he died, he took my hand and thanked me, he closed his eyes, he squeezed my hand gently, and he died, peacefully. And my heart was full.

After he died I took a walk in one of my favorite forests, and collected items to make a mandala. With each item I collected, I thought of him, our conversations, his death, and the gifts of our time together, which I will hold in my heart forever. I honored him, and I said goodbye.

xo
Gabby
Hospice and Palliative Care nurse/ End-of-life doula

Learn more about me here:
www.thehospiceheart.net

You can find this blog here:
https://www.thehospiceheart.net/post/they-are-all-here