This is about my dad who passed away in October of 2011 at the very young age of 65. Here is a little background about my father.
My childhood was wonderful. My dad did everything he could to make us happy. He would give us his last dollar if he needed to. He was a very wonderful man.
My parents divorced when I was about nine or so, which caused my mother, sister and I to move an hour away. I was heartbroken. Not only were my parents not together anymore, but now I couldn't see my dad as much as I was used to. Regardless of the distance, though, we stayed very closed. My dad never remarried and was very depressed over everything that had happened with him and my mom. He also was diagnosed with diabetes when I was about 12. His health declined from there.
I always did what I could to take care of my dad. He remained in the same trailer that he bought when he married my mom over 30 years ago until about 5 months prior to his death, when he was living with my aunt in Florida. She was always trying to get him to live with her. But, my dad was very stubborn (like most men, haha). He said he didn't want to live with her because she was "bossy." I always told my dad it would be for the better. But, you can't change the mind of a stubborn older man. He has a lot of pride. But I couldn't blame him. He didn't want to be away from us.
To kind of shorten this story, my dad's memory started going downhill fast. He was arrested last May for "breaking and entering". The charges were later dropped. Apparently a little boy came to my dad's house late one night and asked him to help him get into his house that he was locked out of. This was strange to me because the boy would have to pass 3 other houses to get to my dad's house. My father also had never seen the boy before, but my dad was a very kind and innocent man who would help anyone. He also knew that the house was vacant because the man who lived there owed him money and he was in jail for other charges. But after this happened, my aunt came to get my dad. She gave him no choice this time and said that he was too "senile" to live alone any longer. Although it made me very sad to see my dad leave, I knew that I wouldn't have to worry about him as much because he would have someone taking care of him. After he moved, though, his health began to decline dramatically.
I spoke to my dad often. He wouldn't remember calling me that day and would call me several times a day and say the same things. I always talked to him like we hadn't spoke already. I didn't want him to think he was getting old. Plus, I loved talking to my dad. But my dad had a way of never telling me what was wrong, because he didn't want me to worry. My aunt, however, would. She called me one day and said that my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was quickly spreading to his body.
The next few months are a blur. Chemo couldn't help him because it was so bad. The conversations between my father and myself were limited. He couldn't remember anything. I visited as often as I could, but it wasn't often enough. The last time I saw my dad was in the Hospice facility. He didn't even know who I was. It was very hard on me because we were so close. But before we left I asked him to "Gimme that wink." It's always been "our" thing. After I said that, he immediately winked at me. A week later, my father passed. I wasn't there and it made me feel incredibly sad. Not that he had passed, because I knew he was now healed, but that I wasn't there for him in his time of need.
I didn't dream about my father for the longest time. But a few months ago, I finally did. In my dream, I was in his house looking for him. I couldn't find him anywhere. Then when I looked in front of me, there was this white fog. I knew it was him. It was his stature back when he was strong. He hugged me. In my dream I was crying and still calling for him.
Well, I woke myself up calling his name and crying. I was saying, "Daddy...Daddy...Daddy". At this point, I realized I was dreaming but I also felt this pressure on the back of my upper arm (I'm a stomach sleeper). It was strong, but gentle, and felt like someone holding my arm. Once I fully came to, the pressure went away. I felt so peaceful, though. To me it was like my dad knew I was having a bad dream and came to me to say, "It's okay, Sweetie." (That's what he always called me.) I went back to sleep and woke up later feeling really well.
I know this isn't really a ghost story, but it's something similar to me. Like he's my guardian angel now. I miss my dad so much. If you read this, thank you. I really appreciate it and I would love to hear similar stories. God bless.