My dad and I had a very close relationship throughout my life. In 2000 he became very ill and was confined to bed most of the time. When my family and I visited, I would sit on his bed and talk with him about anything and everything. In June 2001 I received a phone call telling me that my dad had gone into a coma and that I should come and take my leave.

I was devastated but didn't want to see him in that condition. My older sister phoned to tell me that dad was in a very serious condition and that he would not survive the weekend. My daughter kept saying, "Mommy, go and see Pop. If something happens, you will regret it." But I just could not; my dad was too precious and I didn't want my memories of him to be tainted by the sight of him on his deathbed.

On that Sunday night my husband received a call saying that my father had passed away. I was heartbroken and guilt-ridden by the thought that I had had a chance to say goodbye but that I had let it slip through my fingers.

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought to myself, "Daddy knows me. I'm sure he will understand why I didn't go and see him." I was wide awake. At that point, I felt someone squeezing my hand. I looked down and clearly saw my dad's hand resting over mine. But when I glanced up, there was no one there.

A sense of peace filled me, and I knew without a doubt that my dad understood and had come to say goodbye.

I later told my mom and sisters about this experience, and all my sister said was, "Well, you were always his favorite so it is only natural that he would come to say goodbye."

I have never experienced anything since. And, although I miss my dad terribly, I know he is at peace and happy, wherever he may be.

Ann Bester

Posted Jan. 24, 2012