1938

Sitting in our lazy-boy chair, no further than ten feet from me in his signature black and tan checkered Pendleton shirt with the worn-out breast pocket from carrying sharpened pencils there, his well-worn denim jeans with wide leather belt and lace-up Canadian ankle-high leather boots with glove leather linings, my Dad looked as happy, healthy and substantial as I remembered him from his salad days. In his usual calm, clear voice, he told me that my family¿s career and financial difficulties would soon end; and they did. I was overjoyed to see him. My Dad had died more than four years earlier.

In 1977, at age 44, that visit was the tipping point for me. Suddenly, all doubt faded away. I became a firm believer in some kind of life after death. During that same week, Dad walked past his favorite nephew on that young man¿s first morning of work at the San Francisco Examiner newspaper and congratulated him with a big happy smile and his signature thumb against forefinger salute of approval.

That event was followed by a random array of gliding, touching, whispering names, furniture rearranging, noisily stalking and bed-sharing ghosts; a ghost of a young girl that glided through a closed wooden door as a dozen sailors and their wives watched in awe; the locally famous Texas Wesleyan University Gay 90¿s ghost who faded from a normal appearance into an empty theatre chair at a distance of five feet; playful ghosts that borrowed notebooks, keys, walking canes, etc. then several days later would leave them on otherwise empty furniture that had been fully searched several times before.

These paranormal events were cited in part for those grieving the loss of loved ones. Dave¿s message is two-fold: ¿Do not despair, if all goes well, you and your departed loved ones will be reunited in the Hereafter,¿ and ¿I am no longer afraid to die; and you should not be afraid either.

Dettagli