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After Death Communication Stories
Ask, Believe and Receive

It has been over ten years since my father's suicide, and I still cherish a "gift" that was sent to me while I attended his memorial service. I remember asking God more than once, before the service, to send me a sign that my father was all right, that he was in a better place now.

Later, while I stood with my family in the funeral home, I heard a man's voice from behind me and to the right say, "Looks like you're doing well, considering what you've been through."

I turned to my right quickly, to acknowledge whoever had spoken, but no one was there. No one! There was nothing behind me but an empty couch. When I turned back again, I noticed a man I didn't recognize, about thirty years old, dressed in plain, brown slacks and matching short-sleeved brown shirt. He was attractive, with close-cut brown hair, and he wasn't wearing a coat or hat, which struck me as odd since it was a bitterly cold and windy day.

As this stranger passed by me, I felt transfixed by his vibrant presence and the warm, soft golden glow that enveloped him. My eyes assessed the differences between "him" and "us," and I concluded that everything in the room was dim and gray-toned, lacking luster and substance compared to this man, who was alive and vibrant with joy, dressed in what I thought of as his "earth suit."

While we were all feeling torn by grief, he was full of life and wearing an expansive smile. I instantly felt this man's love-the love that flowed from him towards me! Its presence was profound. It was tangible, amazing, healing, enticing and unfathomable; it radiated across the room and touched my heavy heart.

In just a few moments, he'd made his way through the throng, past my grandmother's wheelchair, to the area where my father's remains had been placed. He lingered for an extra moment near the flowers and plants, then spotted the Teddy bear that I had made for my father. When this joyous man turned and faced me and smiled, I knew that he knew me in a way that was beyond my comprehension.

I lost my chance to ask him who he was, because someone spoke off to my right and I turned for a mere second to follow those words which, this time, were not directed at me. When I turned back in the next second to find him again, he was gone-vanished-something which was impossible on foot, as he'd have had to walk back through the crowd to reach the door.

I don't know how this happened. But I do know that, "…you're doing well, considering what you've been through," plays through my memory nearly every day. And I'm always encouraged by that message and the love he radiated towards me.

Jeanne (Netzley) Nelson
Phoenix, Arizona

Posted Jan. 27, 2009