From my earliest memories, I was always a daddy's
girl. Everywhere my daddy went, I went too. He was a gentle man, kind and
caring. And maybe because I was the only girl among three boys, I think
he spoiled me a little. We knew my dad had the gift to heal people. He could
touch us kids when we were sick and cause our fevers to go away. Once, I
had a stomach ache, and he made that go away too. But my father apparently
couldn't extend this gift to himself. He was sick a lot when I was young,
with heart problems and other various illnesses. Sometimes he had to go
to a sanitarium to get well again.
During his last stay
there, of course no one knew it would be his last stay, my mother
and brothers went to visit him often. We were not allowed to
go inside, because he had TB, which was contagious. So we stood
outside looking up at the big window in the upper floor. Dad
would stand there and smile and wave to us.
On the bright summer
day he died, I remember waving to him in the window and then
following my older brother home. He had decided to walk instead
of ride. Our house was not far from the sanitarium. We took a
shortcut through the woods and enjoyed our walk together.
That night my mother
received the phone call telling her that my father had died.
I did not know what to think at first when she told us the news
of his death. I didn't really understand what had happened to
him, or perhaps I didn't want to understand.
On the day of the
funeral, I walked around the funeral home in a sort of daze.
I held a hanky in my hand, and I was waving it in the air, playing,
not sure what was happening around me. I went to the open casket
where my daddy lay, and I waved the hanky around above his head.
Then I dropped it on him. And when I picked it up, I touched
his cold cold skin. I had a shock of fright, and it was as though
someone had slapped me awake. Suddenly I realized that my daddy
was dead, and I burst instantly into tears.
I cried and I cried,
and I could not stop. I went to my mother and to my aunt, and
I said,"My daddy's dead."
They tried to comfort me, but it didn't help. I continued crying hard, even
all the way to the grave site I cried. When they were about to lower my
father into the ground, I cried more and pleaded with them, "Don't put my
daddy in that hole!" They thought it best to take me away at
that point to the car so I could calm down. I was devastated
and filled head to toe with sadness and grief.
Later that night
at home, the time came for us to go to bed. My mother let me
sleep with her because I was so upset. I was also scared to be
in my own bed by myself. But I couldn't sleep even in my mother's
bed. I lay there awake, thinking about my daddy and watching
my younger brother in his room across the hall. The door was
half open, and I could see he had fallen asleep on his bed.
Then a movement caught
my eye, and I saw a shadowy figure flow down on the door from
above. I recognized instantly that it was the figure of my dad.
He turned to look in on my brother sleeping, and then he turned
in my direction. He looked at me for a few seconds, and I suddenly
felt myself get up off the bed. I was now standing in the middle
of the room looking at him. I wasn't scared at all. He took a
step towards me, and I felt I was being pulled toward him like
a magnet. I stepped forward and at the same time started to turn
my head to look back at my mother's bed, but a gentle hand took
my face and moved my head back towards him. I believe now that
I may have been out of my body, and that he didn't want me to
experience the confusion of seeing my own body lying in the bed.
Then he stepped back again, and I felt the pulling sensation
release me. I stepped back and, keeping my eyes on him, I returned
to lie down on the bed again. Then he put his arms upwards and
drifted back up off the door and was gone.
I turned onto my
tummy and was lying there in wonderment when I felt a healing
warmth begin to flow over me. Starting at my head, it continued
down my entire body to my feet. It felt like a giant hand gently
moving all the way down my back to my feet and making me feel
warm and soothed all over.
The next thing I
knew, I was waking up, and it was morning. I felt good and noticed
my sadness was gone. All of it was just gone. I would be okay.
I will always remember
this healing visit from my dad. Over the years, I have wondered
what his visit meant, and I have asked the Lord to help me understand.
After a long time I believe I have the answer. Though it is simple,
it is beautiful. I believe my daddy came to say goodbye and to
heal my broken heart. Ever since that night, I have never been
sad when I think of my dad. It's like I know that he is okay
and I'll see him again one day when Jesus comes back to take
us home to heaven.
I hope this helps
anyone who needs it to know that there is a spirit world and
that your loved one is there with Jesus. "Jesus loves you."
P.C. from Kentucky