When my father was 57 years old, he died from cancer. He had been sick for about two years. On January 18th, 1986 I had to leave early in the morning on a business trip, so I had gone to visit Dad in the hospital the day before. He seemed to be in good spirits, rather perkier than he'd been in the last while. In the hour I was there, we had a good conversation and a few laughs. I kissed him goodbye and told him I'd see him again in a few days.

After a meeting in Vancouver the next day, I returned to my room to find a telephone message from my twin sister. When I called, she told me that Dad had taken a turn for the worse and died just a couple of hours ago. I was shocked by her news; he had seemed much better the day before when I'd gone to visit him. She said that all my sisters and my mom were there when he passed, so they were able to say goodbye.

I was devastated by the news of my father's death, and the fact that I was the only one of my family who wasn't there when he died. I felt so guilty that some comparably insignificant business had taken me away from him at the time he was leaving us.

The day after the funeral, I was lying down on the couch in my mother's house when something compelled me to get up and look around the corner to the front door. There was my dad. He looked healthy, happy and at peace. The communication between us was not the spoken word, but words of comfort passed from his spirit to my mind. As I gazed upon his face, he smiled at me lovingly and I knew then that this was his way of giving me one last moment with him. He didn't want me to feel guilt about not being there when he passed on - I "told" him that I loved him very much and would miss him. He said he loved me, too. Then I blinked and he was gone.

I didn't tell anyone about this for quite a long time; partly because I didn't want to upset my mother, and partly because I didn't want anyone to try and explain it away logically. A few years later, I told my husband of my experience. He was fascinated by it and asked why I hadn't told anyone. I said I didn't think I was ready to say anything before then. Shortly afterward, I did tell my mom and my sisters. They were all very happy for me, as they knew how horrible I'd felt for having missed that last chance to say goodbye.

This visionary experience is one that I will cherish forever.

Sharon Hickaway