Reply to Re: angels are here
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desertgrl, that is a lovely story. I haven't seen much on the Board lately that I've wanted to reply to, but I just had to respond to your post.
My father passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last year on Father's Day also of a massive heart attack. I had just had lunch with him a few days before and we were talking and goofing around as always. He looked fine. Seventy-two hours later I was writing his obituary. He was just 62 years old.
I had forgotten to call him that Father's Day, something that I now know will haunt me to my grave. After all, he'd been up north and I didn't think he'd be home. So when the phone rang that evening at 11:30 pm and I saw by the call display that it was "Dad" I thought, "Oh that silly man, calling to give me heck" and answered the phone with a smile on my face. What I got instead was the frantic voice of my step-mother telling me that Dad had suddenly collapsed. She said she'd called 911 and would call me back to let me know what hospital to go to. Forty-five minutes later she called again to say there would be no hospital.
It's been sixteen months and I'm still torn up that I never got to say good-bye. I miss him so much I sometimes can't breathe. All the things I never said weigh on my heart like a stone.
A week after my Dad passed away my step-mother called me to tell me of something strange that had happened. On the week anniversary of his death she woke up at 4 am to a beautiful full moon. My Dad, among other things, was an astronomer and loved the full moon. As she lay in bed looking at it she felt the mattress depress as if someone was kneeling on the bed and then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Then, just like that, it was gone. As a strict atheist and non-believer I just smiled and nodded through my tears.
A few days later on one of the many sleepless nights I've had since Dad died, I felt the mattress behind me move and shift down, like someone had just knelt on my bed. I thought one of my two cats had just jumped on the bed and reached behind me to see which one it was. There was nothing there. A few seconds later it was gone.
The scientist and atheist in me wants to shrug it off and say that it was nothing more than an emotionally and physically drained person imagining things. The devastated little girl in me who lost her Daddy at far, far too young an age desperately believes that it was Daddy saying good-bye.
It's been sixteen months since my Dad died and I still can't get over his death. I hope he knew how much I love him. I think I will probably wonder about what happened that night for the rest of my life.
My father passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last year on Father's Day also of a massive heart attack. I had just had lunch with him a few days before and we were talking and goofing around as always. He looked fine. Seventy-two hours later I was writing his obituary. He was just 62 years old.
I had forgotten to call him that Father's Day, something that I now know will haunt me to my grave. After all, he'd been up north and I didn't think he'd be home. So when the phone rang that evening at 11:30 pm and I saw by the call display that it was "Dad" I thought, "Oh that silly man, calling to give me heck" and answered the phone with a smile on my face. What I got instead was the frantic voice of my step-mother telling me that Dad had suddenly collapsed. She said she'd called 911 and would call me back to let me know what hospital to go to. Forty-five minutes later she called again to say there would be no hospital.
It's been sixteen months and I'm still torn up that I never got to say good-bye. I miss him so much I sometimes can't breathe. All the things I never said weigh on my heart like a stone.
A week after my Dad passed away my step-mother called me to tell me of something strange that had happened. On the week anniversary of his death she woke up at 4 am to a beautiful full moon. My Dad, among other things, was an astronomer and loved the full moon. As she lay in bed looking at it she felt the mattress depress as if someone was kneeling on the bed and then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Then, just like that, it was gone. As a strict atheist and non-believer I just smiled and nodded through my tears.
A few days later on one of the many sleepless nights I've had since Dad died, I felt the mattress behind me move and shift down, like someone had just knelt on my bed. I thought one of my two cats had just jumped on the bed and reached behind me to see which one it was. There was nothing there. A few seconds later it was gone.
The scientist and atheist in me wants to shrug it off and say that it was nothing more than an emotionally and physically drained person imagining things. The devastated little girl in me who lost her Daddy at far, far too young an age desperately believes that it was Daddy saying good-bye.
It's been sixteen months since my Dad died and I still can't get over his death. I hope he knew how much I love him. I think I will probably wonder about what happened that night for the rest of my life.
