My father died of cancer in 2001. At the time of his diagnosis, I found I was pregnant with my second child. This would be his second grandchild and he was absolutely crazy for his first. He was joyous when we told him, and he literally danced around the room in delight. He told me that I would have a boy.

He died a week later. By the time of his funeral, my morning sickness had kicked in. It was a sweltering day in August and we were sitting outside for the military tributes, since Dad was a veteran. While the bugler played Taps and the men folded the flag, I felt as if I was going to pass out. There was no breeze whatsoever, and I was miserable. I thought...."If only a bit of a breeze would pick up, I would feel so much better." At that instant, a cool breeze kicked up. My husband mentioned how weird it was that a breeze started to blow on such a stagnant day. He thought it was a gift from my dad.

I was having a hard time with Dad's death, since he was my hero and best friend. A month after his death, I had a visitation dream. In the dream, he was sitting in the kitchen of his house. I walked down the hall and saw him and instantly thought..."Dad, you're alive! I can't believe it!" He smiled at me and told me that he was absolutely alright, that he had never been better. He hugged me and then I woke up.

It was the most vivid dream I had ever had. He looked so young, maybe in his 30's, wearing blue jeans and a red and black flannel shirt. I could even smell him. He had been a heavy smoker and I could still smell the nicotine on him. I felt he really had made contact with me, and I had a deep sense of peace after that incident.

My daughter's fourth birthday was about two months after his passing. As I put her to bed that night, a mylar balloon that she had gotten for her birthday slowly crossed the room. It looked as if someone was gentle pulling it to me. We had no windows open and no ceiling fans or anything. It sure did feel like a sign.

That following March, my son was born and we named him after my dad. That night in the hospital, I was having a hard time going to sleep, so the nurse gave me something to help me sleep. I turned out the lights and turned off the TV. When I awoke around 3 a.m., the TV was on but muted. I think my dad came by and wanted me to know that he indeed had seen my son. I sure do miss my dad, but I know that he is still around in spirit and watching over me and my family.

Theresa K. Chronister

Posted Mar 14, 2010