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Daddy's Touch


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




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