10 • Rainbow Chats: The Healing Magic of Dialogue and Ongoing Connection

You don’t need to be psychic to connect with your Rainbow One. You just need to be brave enough to feel the Love you share… again.

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My First Rainbow Chat with Ellie

I want to share something deeply personal with you, my first Rainbow Chat with Ellie, a simple heart-to-heart conversation with her in Spirit.

Those first three days without her were brutal. My whole being ached. Sometimes I’d get little moments of relief or lightness, but mostly it felt like something had been ripped out of my chest. Like I was lost forever. Like it would always feel this way.

But on the fourth day, something shifted. She came to me. Or maybe, more accurately, I was finally ready to be with her again. I believe she had been with me all along, inside my heart, but my human self needed space to let her perfect fur body go. We all need our own time to feel the weight of that physical loss before we can open to the deeper truth: that they’re not really gone.

We were driving out of town. My husband was at the wheel, and my mother-in-law sat up front. I was curled up in the back seat, mostly unseen, with Fenix beside me. I felt like a child again, small, quiet, raw. In that tender space, I let myself cry. Almost silently, but deeply. I let my little body shake. I let myself miss her. I let the pain of loving her and “losing” her pour out. It was bitter and beautiful all at once. And then I reached for my healing book.

I did what I always do to begin my Feeling for Healing method: I wrote an intention at the top of the page. And then my whole heart spilled out. (Elzie was the most affectionate nickname my husband and I used for our sweet girl.)

Hey Elzie, I loved you so much. I still love you so much. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I wanted to do more. I really, really did. I’m beyond sorry that it didn’t work out. I wanted so much to keep you forever. I really did. I’m so sorry. I loved you. I still love you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for loving me. I know you did. I’m so sorry you were in so much pain. I’m so sorry. So incredibly sorry. I miss you. Fuck, I loved you. I love you still. I do feel so guilty for letting you go. I am so, so, so sorry. I miss you. How are you doing? Do you miss me? Did you love me?

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With the dam fully broken, my sobs shaking my whole body, Elzie responded…

Yes, I loved you so much. I love you. I loved you. I really loved you.

You were calming and wonderful for me.

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There is nothing that can replace the feeling of receiving that. No amount of logic, no recounting of the facts about her illness or the neurologist’s words about how much pain she was in, none of it could bring me the peace that her loving presence did in that moment. Raw. Real. Broken wide open… I felt calm. I felt peace. I felt the oneness of us, the perfection of our story, the love that still is.

Then she kept going. My pen just moved without hesitation. And she gave me these three gifts:

I came to show you how much love you are.

How much love you give. How much courage and energy and perseverance you have. And I came to show you how profoundly you follow your heart. It didn’t make sense for you to take me home that day, but you trusted your heart and not everyone else who was saying it would be too much.

I came to give you time.

A deeper appreciation of time. All the time you gave to me, I’m giving back to you now, for you.

I came to teach you to growl, to speak up.

To growl when you need to. To rage if you need to. To ask for what you want, even if it feels unreasonable. At first, you thought I didn’t love you when I growled. But my growls were my only voice—they were me saying, I’m scared. I need space. I’m in pain. And you listened. You learned. And now I’m here to tell you: it’s okay to growl. It’s okay to need space. It’s okay to ask. It’s okay to be sassy like me. Speak your truth.

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That exchange changed me forever. And yes, like most of us, I’m a slow learner. I know I’ll spend the rest of my life learning to fully accept how worthy of Love I am. But that day, something shifted. I grew. I trusted my own heart more. I found my voice a little more. And I felt profoundly more lovable, because I allowed myself to take in Ellie’s love so completely. I can see how it’s blessed my life since:

I’ve created stronger boundaries with some family members.
I’ve slowed my pace and deepened my self-care.
I’ve boldly and proudly written this book, something I’m not sure I could have done without Ellie.
And now, Ellie and I are here to support you in receiving all that your Rainbow One has for you, too…

Is Our Heartache the Rainbow Portal?

Most of what I share in this book is backed by my education, my client work, and peer-reviewed research. But this next part? It comes only from my personal experience of my own self-healing and working with clients.

For the first six months after Ellie passed, I couldn’t feel her in the “easy” moments. If I was having an okay day and tried to mentally check in with her, I couldn’t feel her. It was like a memory, not a connection. Like a thought, not a feeling. Sweet, but flat. But when I let myself miss her, really, truly miss her, and cried, letting the pain wash through me, that’s when she would come. Without fail.

So here’s my early-days theory: there’s something spiritual that happens when we allow our hearts to break open. The grief itself becomes the portal. The pain becomes the doorway. When we stop resisting the ache, when we let it move all the way through us, it makes space for the connection to return.

Every time I allowed the emotional wave to rise and crest, every time I surrendered to the tears, she showed up. Her presence would flood me. Gentle. Loving. Complete. My grief cracked me open. And through that crack, Ellie and more Love than I could imagine, came pouring in.

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”

RUMI

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Now, almost a year later, I can feel her anytime.

Your Brain Still Feels Them as If They Are Here

The paradox of grief is that while our hearts long to reconnect, our minds often resist. It can think it’s foolish, imagined, or somehow “not real.” But here’s the truth: for your brain, your Rainbow One is still very real.

The brain is extraordinary in how it holds love and relationship. Even after someone has passed, your brain doesn’t erase them. It stores the emotional patterns you built together — the way they moved, the way they sounded, the way they looked at you, the way your body softened around them. Those patterns don’t disappear when their physical body is gone; they stay wired into your nervous system and continue to live in you.

“You have lost in the physical world, no doubt about it, and you’re not going to have new experiences with their ‘body.’ But your brain has not actually lost them. You still carry around exactly how they would respond if you asked them for advice, or the exact way they would look at you if you did something ridiculous. Our brain really is still carrying them—because we loved them.”

DR MARY-FRANCES O’CONNOR

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This Isn’t Channeling—It’s Love Remembered

Let me be clear, this isn’t about being a medium or channeling spirits. It’s not about having psychic gifts. You don’t need to be clairvoyant or spiritually advanced. You don’t need any special training. This is something anyone can do.

It’s about letting your heart speak. It’s about imagining what your Rainbow One might say to you right now, and trusting the love that comes through that connection. The very fact that you’re here, reading this chapter, tells me everything I need to know: you’re grieving deeply. And that means you loved deeply, radically, unconditionally. You didn’t just “own a pet.” You were in a sacred, soul-level bond. You gave and received a kind of love most people never even taste. So yes, you can do this.

If it helps, remember this: think of someone you love deeply who isn’t physically with you right now. Maybe they’re in another city, another house, or even just another room. Even though you can’t see or hear them, if you close your eyes you can probably feel what they’d say if you were hurting. You can imagine how they’d hold you, how they’d comfort you, the warmth of their love and energy. Just because your loved one isn’t in the same place as you right now doesn’t mean your relationship has stopped, or that your love no longer exists. In exactly the same way, just because your Rainbow One isn’t in their fur body anymore doesn’t mean your connection has ended. The love is still here. The bond is still real.

Your mind may try to argue with you. Your emotions might try to shut it down. And that’s okay. You’re human. As I’ve said before, humans don’t like to feel. We avoid discomfort like Fenix avoids bath time. But with gentleness and patience, we can do it.

One simple detail that might seem obvious, but is absolutely essential for me when reconnecting with my Rainbow Ones, is closing my eyes. And for most people, it makes a world of difference.

‘Fake It’ Until It Feels Real

At first, it might feel like you’re just making it up. That’s okay. That’s completely normal. That’s encouraged. But here’s the thing, your brain is amazing. It remembers how your beloved animal would respond, and how they’d comfort you, how they’d lick and love you when you were having a hard day. And your heart? Your heart knows their essence—that soul-level feeling. The way their love landed in you. That never goes away.

So even if the words feel imagined at first, keep going. Eventually something shifts. The connection will soften, deepens, and over time, it will feel more authentic and natural.

When Mum died, I was only fourteen. It wasn’t until I was in my thirties that I finally began opening to the pain of her loss and allowing myself to reconnect. By then, I couldn’t remember the sound of her voice or the details of her mannerisms. But I didn’t need to. I could still remember the feeling of how deeply loved I was, and how deeply I loved her. And that kind of love has a voice of its own. It’s kind. It’s soft. It moves mountains with a whisper.

Don’t get caught up in trying to find the exact words your Rainbow One would say. It’s not really about the words, it’s about the energy. The love. The connection. Just begin. Even if it feels like you’re making it up. Trust that in time, something more authentic, more effortless and more real will begin to flow through you.

Healing Takes Time and Repetition

Healing isn’t a one-time thing, it’s a process. It takes time, space, and a lot of tenderness. You may find yourself needing to say the same things again and again. You may need to hear the same words back from your Rainbow One, many times before your nervous system can fully receive them.

One morning I opened my healing book and simply wrote:

Hi Ellie.

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And I got back:

Hi Mum.

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Those two little words cracked me open. She still sees me as her mum. I still get to be hers. That alone brought a wave of healing through my whole being.