Another wonderful
story from a member of my writing class. I realize not everyone is a
believer, but there are so many of these stories that I'm not sure how they can
be doubt. Even I have had some unexplained phenomena as well as my mother
and my son. Not everything has a clear explanation, but I do know that
we, as humans, do not have all the answers and keeping an open mind is always
the best. Enjoy this wonderful piece.
HE VISITOR FROM THE BEYOND
1985-1998
Preface: I Valerie S., (surname withheld), being of sound mind and body and never haven partaken in the recreational use of any mind-altering drugs past or present, do hereby delclare that the events you are about to hear are real.
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania — One of the most defining and
devastating moments of my life occurred on the morning of Feb. 18th,
1985. At 6:30 am the merciless ringing of the phone jolted me awake from my
heavy-eyed dreamland. The unsteady, sobbing voice on the other end was my mom
telling me that my father had passed away. True to himself, my dad died on his
own terms—at home, in his own bed, and next to his beloved, Alice, his wife of
48 years. He was 76 years old. That year a deadly pneumonia virus had brutally
swept through the country killing hundreds in its wake among them my dad. That
day the world as I knew it ceased to exist, and the once steadfast walls of my
foundation crumbled beneath me. It would take me years to sort through the
rubble and destruction and find the strength to move forward and make sense of
my life again. I soon learned that I would not be alone as I navigated the
murky waters on this tumultuous journey. Support and guidance would come in the
form of a familiar and prudent visitor from the beyond.
Great Neck, New York — In June of 1985, I returned to my childhood home for a visit. I barely recognized my mom. In the four months since Dad’s death she had lost weight and had become frail and lifeless—her energy and sprit depleted. She was an empty shell of her former self. The once animated, feisty, red-headed-blue eyed Irish woman I called mom was gone. She reminded me of a small, scared lost child. It was heartbreaking. The second night of my visit as my three children peacefully slumbered in the next room, I crawled into the security of my childhood bed and quietly cried myself to sleep. At one point in the night, I gently stirred as I heard the familiar creaking of the bedroom door as it opened. I assumed it was just mom checking up on me as she did when I was a child so I rolled over to continue my fitful sleep.
Then I heard the squeaking of the bed springs and realized that
someone was sitting on my bed. I presumed it was mom needing to talk so I rolled
over to an upright position. It was not mom, but Dad. It was my Dad. I
literally threw myself into his arms expecting air and a vanishing vision.
Instead, his arms encircled me and held me tightly. It was real. Dad was
actually there. He was solid and warm. I put my head on his chest and could
hear his heart beating. He was dressed in his favorite outlandish paisley-print
shirt—the one that mom despised. I checked his shoes, and as always, they were
buffed and polished to a high sheen. I could smell the scent of lingering stale
cigarette smoke on the fabric of his clothes. The aroma of recently consumed
coffee drifted from his breath. He lovingly stroked my hair while he repeated
his pet name for me, “My Wallerie (Valerie with a W), my Wallerie.”
We talked for what seemed like hours. He said he had already
looked in on my children, and they were sleeping peacefully. He related that
mom was tossing and turning unsuccessfully trying to rest in their marital bed.
He asked me to watch over her and assured me that he would be around whenever I
needed him. I watched him leave the bedroom.
I awoke the next morning with a happy heart, but in a state of
confusion. My Dad’s fragrance still permeated the room and was now on my
nightclothes. Had I been dreaming? My bed covers were askew, and on the spot
where Dad had rested, there was an imprint. It had been real after all. I kept
this encounter to myself not wanting to upset anyone and realizing how crazy it
would sound if repeated. Three months later, my husband’s work transferred us
to Wenatchee, Washington. I was forced to move to the opposite side of the
country from my mom just nine months after our loss of Dad.
Wenatchee, Washington — Since
relocating, things on the home front had gotten worse. My abusive husband’s
drunken rages had increased in frequency and escalated. Many nights, unable to
rest, I would wait until everyone was asleep and quietly slip from the house. I
aimlessly roamed the streets enjoying the solitude of night and the obscurity
provided by its cloak of darkness.
One evening as I approached the elementary school, I caught sight
of a shadowy- silhouette propped against the chain link fence of the
schoolyard. It appeared to be a man smoking a cigarette. Unnerved by his
presence, I crossed to the other side of the road. Suddenly, a glow radiated
from his being, and I heard him say, “Wallerie, it’s Dad.” Stunned, I remained
frozen in place unable to move until a mysterious magnetic force compelled me
across the divide.
Crying, I found myself submerged in Dad’s warm comforting embrace
and mesmerized by his soothing words of wisdom. We sat on the wet dew laden
grass and chatted until the sun began to rise in the sky. My heart was full and
happy as Dad sent me home in time to greet my awakening children.
My husband was already in the kitchen and eyed me suspiciously, as
I appeared. He interrogated me as to where I had been, why the seat of my pants
was so wet, and why I reeked of cigarette smoke. I just smiled and went up to
wake the kids for school.
Dad came to visit me regularly for many years. He always seemed to
sense when I needed him, and he never failed me. Sometimes I would see him in a
crowed mall, a store, a parking lot, or a park. Dad had the magical gift to
make time stand still. Everything and everyone would become frozen in time and
motionless around us. Dad would spend the lapse in time, dispensing his sage
advice and encouraging me to be a warrior and not a victim. He wanted me to
take a stand and believe in myself just as he always had. He urged me to be
hopeful and not hopeless. Then suddenly time would resume, and the movement
around me would coincide with dad’s covert departure. These are to this day
some of my most treasured moments.
In 1998, my mother passed away, thirteen years after Dad’s death.
She was 80 years old. She may not have died of a broken heart, but she
definitely died with one. Finally, Alice was on her way to be reunited with the
love of her life. Shortly after mom’s funeral, dad paid me a visit.
Over the years, thanks to his support, guidance, and
encouragement, I had been able to get my children and myself out of our abusive
situation. By this point in time, I had been divorced for seven years, had sole
custody of the three kids, owned a small home, and was gainfully employed by
the Wenatchee School District. My children were thriving and so was their
mother. With the help of my dad, I had finally turned a corner.
This particular evening, I felt compelled to return to the
schoolyard where Dad and I had our first Wenatchee encounter. He was there
waiting as I approached and after a warm embrace we exchanged pleasantries and
caught up on the children’s activities. Dad said he wanted to show me a very
special place, and he reached for my hand. I found myself standing in the midst
of the most beautiful garden I had ever seen. It was breath-taking and hypnotic
at the same time. The sweet floral fragrance was magically alluring and
soothing. It was like a sea of beautiful colored flowers and lush green foliage
interspersed with divine fountains of cascading waters. Carefree residents
meandered through plush and vibrant landscape laughing, smiling and conversing.
They donned flowing white robes. There were men, women, and children. The
magnificent garden was punctuated with exquisite white marble statues. It was
the most peaceful place I had ever been.
The sun shone brightly, but I was neither hot nor cold. As I took
it all in, my Dad continued to lead me down a path lined with magnificent
life-like figurines. Dad finally halted at a spot that gave us a full view of a
stunning pool of light blue water. There was a radiant woman sitting on a bench
singing a beautiful mesmerizing melody. It took me a second before I realized
it was mom. I wanted to run to her, hold her in my arms. Dad held me back. “She
can’t see you or hear you—no one here can.” He continued, “I wanted you to see
our new home and how happy your mother is. This is how I want you to envision
us every time you feel sad or miss us. This is where we will all eventually be
reunited as the Southard clan once again. Yes, Wallerie, this is Heaven.”
I found myself back in front of the school. For the first time
since I lost my beloved father, I felt whole. Dad never visited me again. Thinking
of them both now evokes a feeling of contentment and puts a smile on my face.
They are where they belong-together. Their love story continues.
After this, I finally mustered up the courage to share my
encounters with my sister. As I told my tale, she listened intently never
giving me a hint at what she might be thinking. When I finished, she let out a
monumental sigh of relief and confided that dad had visited her too on multiple
occasions. She too had been to heaven to see mom! Maybe we were not crazy after
all, but if we are, then at least we can blame it on genetics! Until we meet
again Mom and Dad! Love you!
Epilogue: On Sept. 23, 2011, John Blake authored an editorial for
CNN discussing the phenomena of paranormal encounters with people who had died.
He gave what happened to my sister and me a name—crisis apparition. He
explained, “A crisis apparition is the spirit of a recently deceased person who
visits someone they had a close emotional connection with usually to say
goodbye. Although such encounters are chilling, they are also comforting. These
encounters suggest that the emotional bond often transcends death and is not
erased.”
It happened to me, and it is my reality!
Valerie S.
April 19, 2017
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