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After Death Communication Stories
My Dad, My Grandson?

I was adopted as a baby by two elderly parents whom I loved dearly, They will always be my Mom and Dad. I was 16 years old when my father passed away. He went in on a Saturday and passed away the following Saturday. We buried him the day before Thanksgiving.

My father and I were always close and I took his death very badly. The first night of the viewing I was so upset I actually made myself sick and had to be taken home by a cousin. I lay in my bed crying, wanting my Dad. Then, I smelled the distinct odor of his wintergreen Skoal snuff and saw a fog which I knew without a doubt was him. The fog moved toward my bed. I felt all the fear and loneliness wash away and heard him say to me, "Don't cry. I will always be here if you need me." Then he was gone.

Through the years, there were many instances where he made his presence known. I became pregnant at 19 and wanted nothing more than to raise my child with its father. I cried myself to sleep many nights. One night, after I cried for my Dad, I had a dream. In my dream, my Dad and I were in a restaurant talking. There was a baby girl in a high chair with a white and yellow dress on. My Dad sat at the table and assured me that some day the child's father would come back to me.

I knew then, only three months into my pregnancy, that I would give birth to a dark haired little girl. What I didn't know was that my mother would buy me the white and yellow dress as a shower gift, and that two years later the child's father would come back into my life. That is when I remembered my Dad's words.

About seven years later, I crashed my car. I drove off a 45-foot embankment and hit a tree head on. No one heard or saw the accident. I don't remember much about the accident other than climbing out of the car when it finally stopped, and not being able to see the road above. I sat down and cried for my Dad again.

The next thing I knew, I was back up on the road and walking into town. I made it to a friend's house and was taken to the hospital. The only things wrong with me were two black eyes, a mild concussion and a set of fingerprints on the inside of my arm where someone had pulled me up that embankment. I know that those were my Dad's fingerprints.

Twenty-three years later, my Mom passed away on Thanksgiving Day. I could not believe that fate would be so cruel as to take both my parents around the holidays. I was devastated. My Mom's death came two weeks before my daughter's wedding, the same little girl my Dad had shown me in the dream.

About a month after my daughter's wedding, she told me she was pregnant. I was very happy but I still missed my parents and was sorry they couldn't share this happiness. One day I was driving home alone and could smell my Dad's snuff again. I couldn't believe it. I wasn't upset, so why was he coming to me? I heard him talking to me and he said, "Don't worry. I will always love you, but I have to leave now. It's my time to go."

I was stunned. Many questions went through my mind: Where is he going? Why isn't he staying with Mom? They waited so long to be together. Then I knew, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I couldn't believe it. The next day, I started shopping for boy's clothes for my future grandson. I kept questioning myself until the day he was born. There was my grandson whose leg twitches when he gets excited just like my Dad, with that same stubborn streak and knowing eyes. My Mom often makes her presence known in the nursery watching over him. It's so amazing to know that these two wonderful people will always watch over me and my family.

Cathy Newlin

Posted 5-14-08