posted on Dec, 28 2011 @ 10:34 AM
I got the call on a Sunday morning, letting me know that he had died. We were expecting it, praying for it even, but when it actually happened, it
still devastated me.
Friends called with their sympathies. "Your father was so proud of you, he was always talking about you and how much he loved you." Puzzled, all I
could say was, "Really? He never told me he was proud of me, and never once in my life did he say he loved me."
"Well, he did," they would insist. "More than you know."
Three days after his passing, strange things began to occur. First, my then-husband decided to go out for a smoke about 11:00 pm. As he walked past
a painting my father had done, a brilliant blue-white flash went off right in his face. He hadn't turned on any lights. I saw the flash as the
light flooded the hallway. My first thought was a feeling of intense anger. My second thought was that this light didn't behave as regular light
does. It was like the color of when magnesium burns, and it only went so far and no farther, like it was contained.
My husband came back into the bedroom and turned the light on. He was very pale and shaking. "Did you see that?! What WAS that?"
I asked if he turned on the light and maybe a light bulb burned out. He said no, he hadn't touched any lights, it just happened. I could feel a
sense of anger and suddenly I felt like I was 4 years old, scared of the dark. I pulled the blankets up higher around my face.
Around 12:00 midnight, the phone began to ring. We had approximately 4 phones in the house, but only the one in the area by my father's painting was
ringing. I picked up the extension in the bedroom but got an immediate dial tone. The phone in the dining area rang three times, then stopped. It
repeated this pattern for the next hour, while my husband and I were cowering under the covers.
"Go in there and answer it," he told me. I looked at him like he was nuts. I could hardly move I was so freaked out.
"No way! I don't want to leave this bed!"
So on it went for that next hour. We thought perhaps, because we lived within 15 miles of an Army base, that maybe that brand of phone was picking up
some kind of signal. I called the phone manufacturer the next day and explained what had happened. They said the phone wouldn't do that, it was
impossible for just that one to ring and not the others. So I mentioned that my father had died three days prior. The tech guy was freaked out, but
he had no explanation.
I had the uneasy feeling that, for some odd reason, my father was very angry at my husband, and was trying to warn me of something.
I had a dream a few nights later, in which I lead him through ancient Roman streets back to a small structure that I understood to be home. He looked
at me and his eyes were made of amber, and I saw small bits of ferns and insects embedded in it. I took it to mean that he was saying goodbye.
Five years passed, and my husband was caught in an illicit affair with a co-worker. He had been draining our bank account of the money I received
from my father's passing to pay for fancy dinners, clothes and jewelry for this woman, who was also married. I won't go into the horrible details
of it all, I will only say that it almost destroyed me. I had just been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, I was sick and on meds, and then my
world imploded and buried me beneath it.
I began to take a great deal of medication. I was so angry I couldn't function. I was by myself with two small kids and no family or friends within
100 miles. I started taking so many pills it became a real possibility that I would not wake up the following morning. My kids needed me and I
walked around in shreds like a zombie.
It was then that dad came back to save me.
I started having dreams in which I was eating a bunch of pills, and he would appear and look at me sadly with his soulful brown eyes, shaking his head
as if to say, "No, don't do that. That isn't the way." I would wake up awash in tears. I also had dreams with my ex in them, in which he was
deliberately provoking me and I was so angry I was choking on it. Dad would appear between me and the ex, and he would look at me and shrug his
shoulders as if to say, "So what. Let it go, don't let it get to you."
I felt worthless, abandoned and utterly lost. After a day of taking so many pills I was vomiting, I had a final warning from Dad in a dream. I told
him I would stop. I woke up bawling and knew it was time. I returned all the meds to my doctor that afternoon and told him I wanted off. He
assisted me through withdrawal and I never went down that path again.
The anger towards the ex was harder to kick than the opiate addiction. Time and again, Dad would come to me in dreams and try to show me that it was
to my benefit to let the anger go. It was hard to do because each time I dropped the kids off, the ex would provoke me and we would fight. It was
dreadful, the kids would cry, I would be enraged, and that fool would somehow feel better each time he upset us all. I hated that he took the kids in
I decided to move to Texas to get 1700 miles of geography between me and him. It was a beautiful feeling, knowing I never had to see the ex again. It
took years and many dream visits from Dad, but I slowly let go of the anger and betrayal.
Then I started having dreams that I had married a man with a bunch of computer equipment. Dad was in the dream helping us move. In these dreams,
this faceless man would do something to trip my anger switch, but Dad would do his shoulder shrug, look at me and smile. I felt he was saying that it
wasn't worth getting upset over, and I had to stop being so reactionary.
Four years later I met and married an IT manager who built his own computers. Over the years, there would be times when I would get angry, and Dad
would be there in dream time, extolling me to let it go, to flow with it. I always found this to be somewhat amusing, because in real life, Dad was a
real firebrand with a hot temper. I figured that once he got to the other side, he realized the error of his ways and didn't want me to make the
My father, who was so hard on me while he was alive, who never once signed a birthday card for me, never once said he was proud of me, and never ever
told me that he loved me, had gone over to the other side and became the kindest, most caring father anyone could ask for. I believe with all my
heart that he not only showed me how important it was for my mental health to roll with the punches, but he saved my life. Without his intercession
in my dreams, I'm certain I would have been an overdose statistic a decade ago.
Not only has this proven to me that there is life after death, but it also has given me hope that, no matter how badly we screw up in this lifetime,
we all get a chance to make things right and help those we leave behind.
Dad showed me he loved me and saved me during the darkest time of my life. Thanks, Dad. I love you too.