It’s been one month ago today since I got the news of my father’s passing. And for the last thirty days I’ve felt him with me daily. I obviously didn’t know how that was going to feel until it happened, so I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. In fact, I think I’m pretty much like most folks in western civilization in that regard. We don’t think about death—we try to avoid that topic as it relates to us or those we love.
I am a very spiritual person. I’m what some people call intuitive and others call psychic, and I saw Angels by my bed at about the age of four. I’ve communicated with Angels, or spirits, most of my life. And yet, I hadn’t given death—specifically the death of my parents and how I may feel or react when it happened—much mental head time. It was really just a topic I preferred, like most of us, to avoid. I’d deal with it once it actually happened.
I know now, of course, at least in the case of my father (whom I like to call Daddy), how I would react. At the moment I got the news he had passed on, there was no thought involved at all—just an uncontrollable wailing that sprang forth from my being.
In the days that followed, I went to sleep talking out loud to him, and woke to find he was first on my mind. I could feel him in my heart—like the sun on my chest from a warm, fresh spring day—and I could feel him around me as though he was just part of the air that engulfed my whole body; there’s no escaping it, and why would I want to? It’s life sustaining. That’s how it felt: a happiness that was mixed with my own sadness and grief. In any moment, the tears could start flowing from this sprung well inside of me. At times, the rush of grief felt overwhelming, uncontrollable—and I never tried to control it.
I had learned (gratefully) years ago, and in my work as an emotional trauma relief therapist, to just let it flow, then let it go. And sometimes I would just feel this quiet smile rise up in my heart, and I knew instantly it was him. How did I know that? one might ask. Because I had never felt it before his death. And it was like the feeling I got after my two Yorkies, Princess and Queenie, had passed on. I learned, over time, that that feeling, similar to what I was now feeling, happened when they (or their spirits) were present with me.
But this feeling I had with Daddy’s visits was different. It was actually visceral. I could feel, down inside of my cells, this feeling, like a buzzing—an aliveness I hadn’t felt ever before. The closest I can come to describing it is when you get that “goosebumpily” feeling of excitement when you recognize someone you love whom you haven’t seen in a long time. Except in this case, the goosebumpily feeling is inside your skin, inside your body, not on the outside. I took this as meaning that I was feeling Daddy inside of my cells. And a friend who does work with Ancestral Energy Healing confirmed this for me. After all, my DNA is from my daddy and my mommy—that’s a given, right? So, if daddy is no longer in human form, and he has transcended into spirit (energy) form, then it would make sense that he is now able to activate anything that is still part of him, including me! I am not a quantum physics teacher, so I can’t literally describe how this might work on an energy or scientific level, but I can tell you how it feels. It’s absolutely incredible!
Now you might be asking, especially if you have a parent who has passed on, why you haven’t felt this incredible DNA-popping, exploding feeling. I don’t know the answer to that. But I suspect it’s just an allowing. (Critics may say it was just my imagination. That’s fine. I read somewhere recently, “Cynicism is the atrophy of imagination.” So there you go.)
I know, from many years of working as spiritual teacher, that people often feel silly when discussing supernatural or spiritual phenomena such as this, because—let’s face it—there aren’t too many places one gets access to such events. Our modern society likes us to talk about things we can see, hear, and touch; anything else is considered “woo-woo.” That’s fine for others, but rather limiting—for me. I prefer to live outside the box of what’s considered normal. So I’ve learned to allow myself to see, hear, and touch what others don’t.
So for the last month, through my grief, tears, and welling up of sadness at often inappropriate times, I just let the feelings happen. And I also let the sizzling of my cells inside, which lit a flame of warmth in my heart and tickled my tummy, tell me that Daddy was with me. Sometimes that made me cry, too, and, along with the tears, it always made me laugh, out loud, quite uncontrollably. And I found myself walking around thinking—and even saying to my friends—“Why isn’t everyone talking about this incredible thing called Parents Transitioning to the Other Side??!”
I also realize that it may have a lot to do with the relationship we have with our parents. You see, for me, there were many years I didn’t have a close relationship with my father. We had to battle through tough questions, and what I call steel-grit forgiveness, to find a place of non-judgment and acceptance in order to have a relationship. But we did. We were both willing. And I’m so grateful for that. Daddy actually worked hard at creating space for non-judgment and forgiveness—in fact, he made a daily, real practice out of it. This may be why his Spirit, now on the other side, is so strong, and why I feel it so powerfully.
Well, I did feel it—it lasted every day for thirty days.
Now I don’t.
And I think about what that means. Was he here to help me and the family deal with his passing, and now he’s off on his next adventure? If that’s true, I smile at this, for him. I’m ecstatic for him, actually, at the thought of this. And It breaks my heart at the same time.
I cry for me.
And I suddenly remember and feel the abandonment.
It happened when I was five, when he left the family. I remember leaving his new apartment for the first time, and sitting in the way back of our station wagon. (Remember the kind that had the rear seat facing toward the back of the car instead of the front?) And there I was, waving and sobbing, watching him standing the middle of the street waving goodbye, getting smaller and smaller as we drove away.
And I remember the last time I saw him in person, just three months ago. There he was again, outside of his apartment, waving goodbye as I drove away. And I sobbed waving goodbye, just like I did when I was five years old —as though I somehow knew it was going to be the last time I would see him . . . alive. Only this time, he was sobbing, too! I had even turned to my beloved, who was sitting next to me in the car, and said, “This feels like one of the last times I may get to see him.” But what I was thinking and could not say out loud was, “This is it.”
But it’s different this time, this feeling of abandonment.
I feel him gone. Yet, this time I know he’s still a part of me. He lives on in my every cell!
Really, how cool is that?
There is something different happening to me now. And I sense he will still come visit me from time to time—as he did when he first passed—in between his other dimensional travel. Suddenly I realize – yes, he has truly crossed over to the other side. And its more than that he was staying around to make sure I was okay. It’s like it was a gift for him as much as it was for me. I got to be with my daddy every day for thirty days, in a closeness, and love, and connection we never got to experience!
That makes me giggle with delight.
I feel a peace – and a completeness – I have never known before.
And I look forward to what may be new vistas in our relationship, beyond the limits of this space and time.
If you have thoughts to share about your parent’s passing and how it felt or feels for you, please do. I invite the conversation.