A Feather from Heaven

It was a cold, rainy day, and I had been working out of my parents' house. It had only been two weeks since I buried my mother, who battled pancreatic cancer, and spending time at her house gave me comfort. My parents passed away on the same dark blue recliner in the same corner of the den where the television was located. My father, thirteen years before, also battled pancreatic cancer. I know what you're thinking: BOTH parents died from pancreatic cancer! It's crazy and scary. For every pain I feel, I fear the worst. Fortunately for my siblings and me, their causes were environmental. It is likely that the chemical tetrachloroethylene, used in his dry-cleaning plant, was responsible for my father's cancer. My mother's environmental illness was undetermined; however, if the cancer-causing chemical could have had an effect after being applied to dry-cleanable clothes, it certainly could have caused my mother's illness because most of the clothes she wore were dry-cleanable. I grew up in the same house, but I was young and didn't have my jeans and t-shirts dry-cleaned.

My mother passed away on February 18th, 2018, though it still feels like yesterday. I miss her beyond words. She was my best friend. We did a lot together, including meditation, a medium experience trying to connect with my father, and I shared my research on life after death and what happens when we "die," which I began in 2013 when my maternal grandmother was in hospice. I shared my research with Mom, who was desperate to hear from Dad. The only alleged communication she received was finding pennies around the house in places she hadn't been actively using. This went on for years. Then, I asked Dad to show himself to Mom to let her know that he was around her. She needed him. This was before her diagnosis. Mom was in bed sleeping and felt someone nearby in her bedroom, but she lived alone. She opened her eyes and saw a dark figure standing over her. She freaked out! She hid underneath the blanket, hoping they would go away, whoever it was. When she told me, I confessed that we don't know with 100% certainty that this wasn't a dream. Mom emphatically said she was awake, and it really happened. It felt real. I wasn't there, and I didn't see it; therefore, I could not debunk it.

My confidence about life after death made Mom a believer. After her diagnosis, we certainly had hope that there had been enough research leading to treatments to extend her life. All we discussed was a positive outcome. It wasn't until hospice, a year and a half later, that she found comfort in knowing that she would soon be seeing Dad. My one request was that she contact me to let me know she was alright and with Dad. Be convincing and believable. I needed something magical, even if that meant showing me her face in the mirror.

It was two weeks after her death that I received that message. It was magical and could not be debunked.