I have never believed in much of anything that couldn't be proven. That is, until January 27, 2004. My father, who was a healthy seventy-five-year-old man, was rushed to the hospital. After two weeks, he passed away. The funeral was three days later.

The night of his funeral, at about 1:30 a.m., my oldest son and I were having a very intense conversation. I was devastated from grief, and mad at what is supposed to be the perfect, loving, forgiving Lord. At that point, I just threw up my hands and said, "There isn't anything after death," and hysterically screamed, "I can't imagine not seeing my father again. If there is a God, he's a monster for taking my father."

Just then the doorbell rang, and all three of our dogs started barking. It was late, and my son was closest to the door. I told him not to open it, just to look out the window. As I was walking toward the door, he said, "No one's there."

We live in the middle of the woods, with no neighbors. I asked my son to get my husband quickly because I thought it might be a burglar. My husband, who's been involved with several criminal investigations, came downstairs and decided to take a look outside. It had been snowing most of the afternoon and evening, and when he came back in, he stood still for a second, and then said to me, "There are no footprints or marks of any kind in the new snow."

We were all baffled, and didn't want to say what we were thinking. My husband finally said, "It must have been your father," although none of us really believed it. Every night, for the next four nights, the doorbell rang late at night, and nobody was there. The last night the doorbell rang, I had fallen asleep on the couch because I was exhausted. I heard the bell but fell right back to sleep, and didn't get up to look. The dogs were barking, and the doorbell woke the rest of the family. They were on their way down the stairs to see if anybody was there when the doorbell rang a second time. Again nobody was at our door. The doorbell was not broken, did not ring without being pushed before this, and it hasn't happened since that last night.

My father and I were extremely close. I am his only child, and he lived his whole life loving me. I could tell him anything and he would try to understand, and would always help me when I needed something. He was my hero. Whenever he would hug me, I knew I was special to him, and I felt safe as long as I was with Dad. My husband thinks that my father was trying to tell me that I will see him again, and that there is continuing life after we die. I don't know what to think, but I am hoping with all my heart and mind that this is what was going on.

Anonymous

Please respond to john@beyondreligion.com

Posted on April 23, 2004