My Father's Healing Hands?

I'd been thinking about my own experiences (few, far between and very recently started) and how and when I was going to submit them to YGS (having submitted my first March 30th, 2018) when I realised - hold on a minute, I've had other experiences before - shortly after my father died - at least I think so. You tell me.

My father had passed away August 3rd, 2012 and while we didn't have a healthy father-daughter relationship, he always maintained I was his favourite - probably because I resembled him in complexion and dimples. I do look at my long slim fingers and see my dad - while my brother is the spitting image of my mother.

On several occasions over the years my mom would tell how she couldn't move on waking - as though someone was sitting on top of her and no amount of thrashing about, or trying to, would dislodge the weight upon her. She'd calm down and pray and eventually whatever had pinned her down would release her. I couldn't wrap my head around this - she'd probably been lying in the same position all night and developed a stiffness in her limbs or joints - that's what I told myself. But it's an altogether different story when something inexplicable happens to oneself.

I'd woken from a sensation of being watched, which in itself was weird because I'm not a light sleeper. Besides, I'd taken a generous dosage of pain and flu medication which had knocked me out not long after. I remember I'd been reading Eat, Love, Pray by Elizabeth Gilbert (for the umpteenth time) and was two pages away from finishing the chapter. I don't think I made it to the next paragraph. My body had been violently shaking from the fever and mom had been sitting at my bedside dabbing my forehead with cold vinegar water - it's supposed to aid in breaking the fever. Old wives remedy or not, it felt good.

Upon waking, barely able to open my eyes, I felt someone sit down on the bed beside me.

"Mom?"

No response, so I figure she's just come to check up on me, but it's not like her to not say something. But I'm already halfway back to the Land of Nod when I felt a hand stroking my forehead. No dampness from the vinegar water cloth, just a cool hand soothingly caressing my flaming forehead.

And guess what? I wake up feeling like a million dollars. No more fever! Which one could attribute to the flu medication, but...but...but...

Mom never came back to check up on me after I fell asleep the first time. I'd thanked her for sitting up and doctoring me and interrupting her sleep to check up on me. She looked at me all confused and muttered, "Shame, that fever really got to you."

Was it the fever or was it, as I later thought, my father's healing touch?

Thank you in advance for your advice and insights. All the best to you and your loved ones - whether living or passed.