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“Dad?” I asked, “Can you see the angel at the foot of your bed, standing by the wall?” He said he couldn’t but I could and what I saw made me nervous.
My dad was succumbing to the cancer that was eating him alive. He was in a hospital bed and I was sitting with him. The ‘old’ me never would have asked my highly logical and unspiritual dad if he could see an angel. I mean, HELLO! Looney bin?! But I wasn’t the ‘old’ me any longer and my dad was dying, literally, in front of me.
When dad first told me he was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer, I adamantly denied this. I ‘saw’ a white spot inside his shoulder and told him it wasn’t cancer, as cancer would be black. I kept saying, “It’s not cancer. You don’t have cancer” and he would quietly respond, “Yes, I do.”
When I asked my Guys (Guardian Angels) about this, they told me it WASN’T cancer. They said the medical community didn’t know how to classify this and with all things unknown, they lumped them into the cancer category. Whether this is true or not, I don’t know.
My sister, brother and I would tag team taking care of dad until it was no longer possible for him to live in the house he wanted to die in. Through all of this, dad was open to me giving him Reiki and would often request it as he said it helped with the overall pain and with the burning sensation from his radiation treatments.
So when I glanced up from my dad’s hospital bed and saw an angel all in black, I became frightened. Nothing about his demeanor was frightening, though. He was casually posed with his back against the wall. One of his legs was bent and his foot was resting on the wall. He had jet black, silky wings, dark hair, light skin and black eyes (no white sclera’s). He was incredibly handsome and had a powerful, yet calming, presence.
I didn’t sense animosity or evil but because Hollywood has depicted black as malevolent, I was afraid he was there to harm my dad. I became even more protective of my father and telepathically said, ‘You’re not welcome here. You need to leave. Now.’ When I looked again, the angel had complied with my wish. He was gone and I was shaking.
A few days later, when my dad was no longer able to breathe without assistance and his heart was the only organ that was still unfailingly functioning, I saw this angel again. His demeanor had changed though. Previously it felt like he was just observing or seeing how things were going. This time, his head was bent and his hands were clasped in front of him. It looked as if he was paying his respects or mourning with us.
I knew then that this angel wasn’t there to harm my dad. He was there to take my dad Home. Maybe I knew that when he first made an appearance but I didn’t want to believe it. I am an eternal optimist and believed my dad, through a miracle, could/would get better almost up until the point his heart quit beating.
As us three kids sat around our father’s hospital bed, my dad died. I wouldn’t have known it physically, but I happened to look up and saw a see-through version of my dad standing at the foot of his bed. The angel stood behind and slightly to the side of him.
The image of my dad was that of a man who was much younger; he was in his early forties. He was wearing a black suit with a thin black tie and a white shirt. His head was bowed and his hands were clasped. It felt like my dad, too, was paying his respects. It all felt very somber.
I glanced back at the physical body my dad’s soul inhabited for 84 years. He was no longer there. I again looked at the astral version of my dad and he WAS still there. A sad, peaceful smile formed on my face. I was overcome with relief that my dad was no longer in agony and he was going somewhere where there was no pain and lots of fabulous golf courses. I also knew his pain had ended and mine had just begun. I took so much comfort and felt infinitely blessed being able to see what I did with my intuitive sight.
Dad didn’t look up, not once. He kept his stance of respect until I could no longer see him. I intuitively said, “Dad? I love you. PLEASE let me know when you’ve made it.”
About five months later, I was sitting in our campsite, alone. Trinity was fishing and I was reading a book. I looked up and saw my dad. He was dressed in some hideous checkered golf shorts from the late 70’s and a white golf shirt. He was sitting on a log about 4 feet in front of me. I excitedly and yet casually said, “Hi daddy!” He, ever a man of few words said, “Well, you asked me to tell you when I made it. I made it. So, I guess that’s it. I’ll bring your mother with me next time.” I said, “Ok, daddy. I love you” and he replied, “Yep. Guess I love you, too. Well, I’m off then.” And once again, he was gone. This time though, with his departure, I felt comfort and peace instead of sorrow and loss.