In keeping with the theme of the Afterlife for Sue Vincent’s series where she invites writers to share their experiences with spirit and visitors from beyond, I contributed this post about my visit to heaven.
I am doubly grateful to Debby for sharing this story, as I know that many people will relate to what she recounts. I met my great-grandfather in very similar circumstances, a number of times…though it was always in a wood such as the ones we had often walked together… and only when I truly needed his sage advice.
It may be argued by some that these encounters are created in dream by the mind and imagination, born from a need for comfort and reassurance. Others will accept Debby’s suggestion of astral travel and some will see it as a meeting beyond life. Whatever the explanation, such an encounter can only be born of love…
I’m happy to be back here to share an intimate story from the beyond. I recently wrote a guest post here for Sue – Messages from Beyond, and was asked by Sue to come back and share a story I touched on in that post about my visit to heaven. It’s funny how some of the things we encounter in our lives are taken for granted by us that others may not have interest in. But as Sue and I realized by the interaction we received from my last post, it seems a topic many had something to contribute to. I also know that many people may not understand or believe in the afterlife which is understandably so because if you haven’t been touched or visited by spirit, it can be difficult to be a believer.
My father had passed a few months before I had this ‘dream’, although I hesitate to call it a dream.
I was very close with my father my entire life. I don’t say my father played favorites with his children, but he and I shared a special connection since as far back as I can remember. I had a most difficult time accepting his death and that he’d no longer be in my life ever since that fateful day he was taken away.
My father had no tolerance for our cold Canadian winters and had taken to spending a month down in Miami Beach, Florida every winter for years. He also didn’t like being alone so every year he’d send me and my sister a plane ticket to join him for a few weeks. I’d save my work holiday time for these occasions and as my sister’s family grew, we’d have her babies in tow with us. We all had a great time at the beach and of course, shopping. They were good times we looked forward to every winter.
Dad left for Miami just after New Year’s day 1991. He rented a condo and invited a friend of his to stay with him the first week until my sister and I arrived.
The day was January 7th, 1991. . . Continue Reading