It's time I share my favorite ghost story. My father was diagnosed with lung disease when I was a freshman in college. It was horrible news. He was one of those rare people. I never heard him yell, ever, other than when having fun. There are four of us kids in my family. I am third. He and I were always close. He was very technical but also openminded. He was the first to make me consider the idea that ghosts exist. Telepathy can happen, if you truly believe. And let's talk aliens. We could talk about anything. He lived 16 years after that diagnosis, the average is 10. We knew when he was going to pass. So, I asked him, "Dad. I have two questions for you. One, can I sing Amazing Grace at your funeral? And two, after you die, will you try to contact us? If you are cool with this, you and Mum come up with a word that only the two of you know. After you die, try to communicate it to one of us."
He immediately agreed that he would love to have me sing Amazing Grace. He was choosing his favorite poems, and things already. And then he said good bye. I was in graduate school in Arizona at the time but I am originally from New Hampshire, where he was as we talked. I felt very sad that he didn't address the contact after death idea after all of our diverse and open discussions. But I totally respected his wishes. In no way could I ever impose my ideas on such a huge human transition such a dying.
Two hours later, my mother called and said simply, "We have a word."
I started to cry, as I am now writing this. He just needed time to think. This was on a Sunday in February, 1994. He died early Tuesday morning. Needless to say it was a difficult time, and there was a blizzard making travel difficult. But I did sing at his service, and all went well.
A year later, at the exact time of his death, my mother's phone rang in the middle of the night, with no one there. My younger brother, at his own home 50 miles from my mother, was working at his computer, when his single speaker started to sound like it was coming from all around. And he felt it was my dad. Many other things over the years have also occurred clearly associated with him.
None of us "got" the word, though. A couple of years passed and I had started reading more extensively on energy healing. I do it in person and at a distance. So, my mother would often ask me to work on her friends in New Hampshire while I was still in Arizona. She was always the more timid one about alternative things. If I called my healing "sending white light" as I had been, she was comfortable with it. But after my father died, I learned many things about healing. A loving intent is the absolute most important part. We ended our phone call and I went about my day.
Later that afternoon, she called back, again a very brief, precise comment. "Dad is with you."
"What?" I asked.
"The word is "LOVE". Before Dad died, you always talked about your healing as white light. After, it always includes "love". ALWAYS. He is with you."
And I know to this day that he still is.
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