Lately my Mom and I look up to the clouds in the sky searching for my Dad. When you lose someone you love dearly, you are perpetually searching for a “sign” that they are in heaven, that they are okay, that they are whole once again.
Death is the ultimate test of blind faith.
I know my father is in heaven, and I know my father is watching me.
He is constantly sending me signs. He started communicating with me almost immediately following his passing. His preferred method of communication with me is feathers. I have no idea why because when he was living it’s not like he was the bird whisperer.
Two days after his burial I was laying in bed crying when I noticed something white and fluffy on the floor. When I got up and crouched down to look I saw a beautiful, fluffy white feather. I examined the feather, searched the entire bedroom for signs of a trapped bird, something with down feathers in it, anything! Nothing, just one fluffy white feather.
I picked up the feather and whispered, “Dad???, Are you here?”
He didn’t answer, but I made sure I saved that beautiful, fluffy white feather.
I always seem to find a feather at just the right moment. For example, last week I was leaving a doctor’s appointment after an exhausting morning complete with a round of blood tests. I was tired and frustrated, just as I looked up a feather landed by my feet. Each time I find a feather I always catch myself searching for a bird or something with down.
But it’s summer at the Jersey Shore, and I’m not wearing any down, actually I’m allergic to down. So………
As the months continue to pass, my collection of feathers are growing. I save all my feathers in a mason jar next to my bed. They are priceless gifts from my Dad showing me that love never dies, that he’s healthy again, and has earned his angel wings.
He also likes to communicate with me through music and play with the lights. The other night I was folding laundry and I tapped a lamp that was unplugged and it turned on. Yes, my lamp that was unplugged turned on by itself. Five months ago I would have ran out of the house screaming, now I look up and say, “I love you too Dad.”
Anyone who is not grieving is absolutely rolling their eyes at this point, thinking I’ve lost my mind. But it’s true, my dead father talks to me.
With each sign that he sends my way, I always look up and thank him. It only seems right. I’ve never been to heaven, but I would imagine it’s rather difficult task to communicate with living family members. Especially in this day and age with all the distractions surrounding us.
The other day my Mom and I were talking on the phone and she told me she wants to see a cloud that looks like my father.
She said, “You know, your father when he was young and healthy with side burns.”
I laughed and said, “I think you’re pushing your luck on that one, I would imagine a heart is easier?”
Like I have any clue on how to communicate with loved ones from the afterlife. I’m not exactly John Edwards, I’m just a regular person grieving her father. But her request seemed like a difficult task. She then me told me the day before when she was driving she saw a cloud that looked like my Dad’s silhouette, but now she wants him to send her a cloud that looks more like him or a cloud that says their names. I began thinking that my Mom thinks my Dad has become Bob Ross now that he’s gone. I mean, clouds that look like him?
And then, as we were chatting away, I began to stare at the clouds. My poor mother was now talking to herself and I began to quietly wonder:
Where are you?
Can you hear this conversation?
You couldn’t draw a stick person when you were alive and now we want feathers, music and now pictures in the clouds?
Are we crazy?
Just at that moment I looked up at the sky and saw a heart shaped cloud. I couldn’t believe my eyes; I put my Mom on hold and immediately took a photo.
My father is constantly showing our family that love never dies. Right before he died with tears in his eyes he told me, “Lisa honey this isn’t goodbye, this is only farewell. I will see you again.”