Consciousness, Death, and Dying

My dad passed on March 24, 2010.  Although we were not close, his transition was difficult for me.  It still is.

There are many varying views on death and dying – almost as many differing views as there are people on the planet.  Each of us may have been taught one school of thought by our parents, religious, or spiritual belief systems, but deep down inside, we could have suspected that other aspects need to be considered when death and dying are happening in our lives – either by us or by someone we know.

Growing up with my dad was torturous.  So I found it odd that when he died, I was the one who flew in to town take care of his remains when they had been misplaced for two days.  I was perplexed while sitting in the morticians (funeral director?) office discussing what to do with my fathers remains.

While I was in the morticians office the second time, I asked her if she was a spiritual person.  She replied “No, not really”.  I went on to tell her about some strange things that had happened to me in a short period of time after my fathers transition.

The first night after he was gone I had a strong feeling that my dad was in my bedroom with me.  I heard his voice.  With my eyes closed, I saw my father standing at the left corner of my bed by my feet.  He was tremulous and looked fearful.  His entire body was quivering.  He appeared to be afraid to look me in the eye.  Then he asked me, “Can you forgive me?”  Yes, I said.  Without hesitation.  I found it easy and simple to forgive this man who was a monster in life.  It is possible to forgive after death.  And forgiving is not about the person you are forgiving, it is about you.  You forgive so that you can heal and move forward with your life.  My dad taught me that in his death.

Two days later, I was in the parking lot of the hospital where my mother was.  Just prior to my dad’s crossing over my mother fell and fractured her right hip.  She had just had surgery.  I was pulling out of a parking space when I heard my dad’s voice again.  In my right ear I heard, “This is so cool!”.  This type of lingo was uncharacteristic for my father.  In life he was staunch, stiff, unwelcoming, cold, and cruel.  For him to use the word “cool” was as far-fetched as seeing him on a merry-go-round and laughing with joy.

The next visitation came two days later as I was standing at the kitchen sink doing the after-dinner dishes.  A voice whispered over my left shoulder and in my left ear, “Thank you”.  I looked up to see if his reflection was in the kitchen window.  It was not.  But I felt his breath.

Back to the mortician.  She looked me square in the eye and said that she has heard many, many stories similar to this over the years.  I feel that life-circumstances may or may not have any bearing on the visitations that we may receive.  I have to say that I found it odd that my father would come to visit me.  I also find it odd that I am still getting gentle nudges of awareness of his presence even today.  Why?  I don’t know.  I have some suspicions, though.

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