Dad, Is That You? A Potential Ghost Story. Part 1

My dad passed in May of 2022. Even though I was with my dad the day that he died, I do not feel like he visited me after his passing, as he promised he would.

We had a deal.

I remember the conversation vividly. Pancreatic cancer was giving him the business. His doctor asked him if he wanted to go peacefully or if he wanted to fight. My dad relayed to me that he was tired but didn't want to seem like his wanting to go peacefully was a cop out. I am no expert on what a soul goes through when they pass through Earth School to what is next, but I've read some cool books on the subject like, Journey of Souls, by Psychologist and Master Hypnotherapist Dr. Michael Newton. And Testimony of Light by nun Helen Greaves. Plus, my dear friend Rev Maria Kliavkoff works in the hospice and healthy mourning field and has been clutch in helping me navigate my personal grief journey-- particularly as it related to the process of my dad's passing.

So, when my dad brought up the subject and his feelings of guilt about wanting to pass without pain, I felt weirdly prepared for it. I told him that we would support his process no matter what. I told him that he was loved. And I told him what my friend Maria had told me.

Death ends a life, not a relationship.

-Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie

 

 

I told my dad, in essence, that I didn't know how it all works, but I would love to continue our relationship after he passed on from Earth school. He said, "I would like that very much." and he seemed at peace about it. He told people about "our agreement".

Several months later, when he shuffled off the mortal coil,

I waited.

I didn't know what I was waiting for exactly.

How do you continue a relationship with someone you can't see, hear or feel?

I still don't know. It's been 10 months. The idea of my dad and I being able to continue our relationship has begun to feel like wishful thinking. Like it was something I said to a dying man to make both him and me feel much better about something neither of us could control.

But then...

A few weeks ago, the lights in my kitchen started flickering.

I didn't think much of it.

At first.

Until I remembered that the day my dad passed, the lights in my mother's bathroom and kitchen started flickering.

for weeks.

I mentioned the flickering in our kitchen to husband and he was all--"yeah, it's been happening on and off for a week or so. I think there's a short in the wiring" or whatever else he said in contractor-speak, so I chalked it up to what he said.

But then.

It happened again. And another time after that. The flickering seemed to have a pattern. One bulb would flicker for a bit and then the other and then the other (three bulbs in the overhead fixture). Then the flickering would start again with the first bulb.

Surprisingly, I didn't freak out. Instead, I said out loud, awkwardly,

"Dad? Is that you?"

He didn't say answer.

Read Part 2.