More on Death

This time of year tends to keep me focused on death. The anniversary of my dad's death was just a week ago, and the anniversary of my mom's death is on June 13th.

While thinking about my dad in the last week, I remembered some of the things that happened after his death, things that would bring him to mind and make me wonder whether or not the dead can actually try to communicate with the living. I know this goes against every single thing a "Christian" believes, but these things really happened and I have believed them to be a sign from my dad, a sign letting me know he was ok, and that I would see him again one day.

When my dad died I had a 3 year old and a 1 year old. We still did the family bed at our house, so I would go to bed with my girls and we all watched a bedtime video while they drifted off to sleep. One night about a week after getting back from Florida (and my dad's funeral) I was thinking about him while laying in bed watching a video with my girls. Just then the tv turned off. No reason, it just turned off. I was able to hit power on the remote and it turned right back on. The same thing happened on two other occasions over the next few weeks while I was thinking about my dad. In all 3 instances, nothing was wrong with the tv, no one sat on the remote, the tv just turned off. Now that may seem like nothing, but at the time, I truly felt like my dad was there, that he knew I was thinking about him and worried about him and it was his way of making his presence known. I felt oddly at peace after those episodes.

In October of the year my dad died ( he died May 31), I was still going to the Catholic church. Every year they hold a service for those who have died that year. The service is in the evening, the lights are dimmed and there are votive candles on the altar. When they call your loved ones name, you are able to go up and light a candle for them. At the end all the candles are glowing, it is a very moving service. After I left the service that night and got back in my car, there on the floor of the passengers seat was a shark's tooth. I live in IL, no where near the ocean. My dad was an avid beachcomber of shells and sharks teeth. He had quite the collection of both at his home in Florida. I had been to Florida the previous year when he was dying, but this was 5 months after his death, and the car had been cleaned out many times since our returning from Florida. Plus I don't recall us ever bringing home any of his shark's teeth. But here was one, right in the middle of the floor mat in the front seat of my car. Right after a very moving service of remembrance for my dad. To me it was a sign. Another sign from him telling me he was ok, that there really is an afterlife and that I would see him again one day.

Now you might think I am crazy, you might think these things were all just weird coincidences. I suppose you could be right. But there really was no other explanation than the fact that I had been thinking about my dad at these moments. I know in my heart that somehow my dad was able to send me a message that he was ok. Or maybe it was God sending me the message. Whatever it was, it brought a sense of peace to me at a time when the world made no sense. How does one make sense of a 56 year old man having 6 months from diagnosis to death? It wasn't fair that my dad had to die so young. He had so many plans for his retirement. So much he and my mom wanted to do. My dad did everything right during his life. He worked hard, he was honest, he always did the right thing. And his reward was an early death? So it was very comforting to me to somehow get a sign from him that he was ok. And I do believe he is ok, and that my mom is now with him and I will see them both again someday.

I believe the dead send us signs after they die, we just need to look for them. I think many people never see the signs that have been given to them, signs that will bring them peace, because of some fear that it is not of God or that it just isn't real. I encourage everyone to remember to look for the signs after losing a loved one. They'll let you know they are ok, I know they will.

Death is nothing else but going home to God, the bond of love will be unbroken for all eternity.
~ Mother Teresa~

My Dad

Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.

~Gloria Naylor~

My dad died 11 years ago today. He was 56. I am amazed at how quickly the time has gone by. My youngest was one, today she is 12. She never knew my dad and that makes me pretty sad. Carley doesn't remember him either, she was only 3.

He was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer in Nov. of 1996. Here he is just 3 months prior to diagnosis (with me and my mom and my 5 month old, Catherine):


The doctors told him he had 3-6 months to live. He chose not to do Chemo or radiation, he wanted to have the best quality of life for his remaining few months. He did seek out some alternative remedies, and I think they helped him make it to the 6 month mark. My parents lived in Florida at the time, and I lived in IL. I was able to get down and see him twice before he died. We went down in December and again in March.

He died near midnight on the night of May 31st. I wasn't there when he died, my sister and my brother were. I had a 3 year old and a 1 year old. I was still nursing my 1 year old. I wanted to be there, but my mom and sister told me I couldn't bring my girls, that it would be too stressful on everyone. He was in and out of coherent near the end, but I did have my mom put the phone up to him and told him I was sorry I couldn't be there. I just couldn't leave my girls. I think he understood.

I didn't always have the best relationship with my dad growing up. He could be a mean son-of-a-gun when he wanted to be. But most of the time he was pretty reserved and rather jovial. He liked to read and passed that love to me. He taught me to play chess. Life was simple for my dad and he had clear boundaries of right and wrong. He was a staunch conservative and I thank him for those values. I never had a very emotional relationship with my dad, we never told the other we loved each other, although we did hug and kiss. I remember when I was really small he used to carry me to bed on his shoulders each night. And I remember even into high school kissing him good-night before bed.

Here he is on a Fathers Day when I was about 20 (that's me on the right):


Just before he died I wrote him a letter. I wanted him to know that I although I had blamed him in the past for screwing me up, that I no longer did and that I knew he had done the best he knew how in raising me. He had a horrible childhood with a very abusive father. His childhood was worse than mine. I thanked him for being my dad and told him I loved him. I waited for a reply and finally my mother called me and told me that my dad had read the letter and cried. My dad and I never spoke about the letter and we didn't need to. He heard what I said, it made him cry, that was enough for me.

Time lessens pain but doesn't remove it. I don't think about him everyday anymore, but I do think about him frequently. And I still remember the day he died. Most of all I look forward to seeing him again one day.

Here's a picture of my dad and mom in the bar in the house I grew up in. They had their issues, but I always knew they loved each other:

We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love.
~Madame de Stael~