Today is the 25th anniversary of my Dad’s death and he’s still showing me he’s around.

The day my father had died, I will obviously never forget but how I reacted is what haunts me. I knew he was sick in this hospital but I thought he was going to make it because he would always tell me that he’d be coming home. As I walk into my new home (my mothers house), I was stopped by my Mother’s voice and I turn to see her on the living room couch.

“Hey…..I’m sorry to tell you this but your father has died.”

I look at her, shrug my shoulders a bit and respond, “OK”.

She asked if I was OK and I said yes then walked up to my room. It didn’t hit me even when I went up to my room but I do remember telling myself that I was going to go for a walk. When I left, the entire walk which was about 30 minutes, no tears were shed. It’s all quite a blank but I do remember not crying.

I found myself at the end of a dam and hung my leg over the side looking down towards the waterfall.

There, I screamed. I cried and asked the God I knew of, why he took my dad. I asked my Dad why he left me. He told me he was coming back home and I would be, too.

Each year on the day of his death until about 4 or 5 years ago, I would constantly beat myself up for the way I reacted, or lack-there-of. How could I have been told that my best friend of all time, the person I was closest with, my hero was gone forever and I had no emotion towards it until an hour later.

These days I don’t beat myself up – I was young and I reacted the way I did because that is the way I dealt with it at the time. I couldn’t understand how I was now stuck living with someone who I felt on some level was a stranger to me, at least compared to what I felt with my father. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been one to hide and hold my emotions for the most part, unless I had been drinking, so thinking back on it, I shouldn’t have been so surprised – nor hard on myself.

Losing my father was bad – losing anyone you are super close to is bad but I have to wonder what my life would be like if he were still here. I know we all leave when it’s our time and knowing that truly helps in the grieving process but what if that wasn’t the case? What if he didn’t have a time to go and was still alive now. I wouldn’t have put myself in so many of the situations I had in my past as there would have been no way he would have allowed for it.

Maybe my life would be a lot less stressful, maybe I’d be living in Brantford with 7 kids and 7 baby daddies, maybe I’d be super successful or maybe I’d be dead myself. Though I miss my father, I am glad I had went down the roads that I did after he had passed. I mean, I did a lot of stupid stuff – A LOT – but I learned so much about myself and others in the process. I hurt people (mostly not on purpose) and people hurt me (mostly on purpose), I had kids which was a big no-no for me up until I was 32 years old and from those experiences, I became a stronger person – a better person.

Though I am happy I’ve been given the chance to even live this long, to experience what I have or even what I have not, to bring children into this world and to have met the people I have, I still wish more than ever that I could get one more last hug.

Lucky for me, I’ve been able to truly feel him around – I have noticed when he has tried to get my attention at times and I feeling truly lucky to experience that with him even though physically he’s not here in front of my eyes (more of these amazing stories to come). When you open up yourself to the possibility of their spirit making connections with you, you’ll be truly amazed at what can happen.

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