This is just an experience that I want to share with you when I was younger.
Ok, so when I was around five or six years old, my father was sent off to war. I never really saw him much. Mum always told me that he loved me so much and that he was a strong man. However, every night I would see my mother sitting on her bed crying over him when she thought I was asleep. But when my father did come, he always came on my birthday. On the day before my dad was to arrive for my ninth birthday, I saw my mum crying on the sofa. I walked up to her and asked, "Mummy, why are you crying?" She replied, "I'm sorry Mary-Anne, but your father can't come visit this year." "What! Why?" "You could still send him a card!"
After my mother told me to go send a postcard, I went straight off to my room. I don't exactly remember what I wrote in the letter, but I wrote how much I loved him and missed him, and how upset I was when I found out he couldn't visit me this year. After I wrote the letter, I decided to put in some of his favourite flavoured jelly beans. Right after I finished the letter, my mum sent it off.
That night, I was too upset to even care it was my birthday, I just wanted my dad to be here. I remember hearing my name being softly called. Thinking, it was my mum I tiptoed downstairs into the living room and saw my dad sitting in his armchair. I can't remember what he said but it was kind of like this, "Mary-Anne, I want you to know that I love you and your mother so much, I want you to take care of her, Happy Birthday." "I will, Daddy, I promise." I was so happy! "Come see Mummy!" I jumped up and about. He smiled and said "I can't. I am sorry, Baby."
I then remember falling asleep and waking up on the couch the next morning. I ran into my mum's room saying that dad was home. She looked at me and quietly said, "Mary-Anne, you could not have possibly seen your father. I don't know how to say this but, your Dad died from a bombing before you sent that letter. I didn't want to tell you your father died on your birthday." I searched around the house looking for him, but he was gone.
Now as 32 years old, I have 3 kids and a loyal husband. Yesterday, An army officer walked up to my door and handed me a package. It was the letter that I sent my father when I was nine. He never got it. The jelly beans were all crushed and moldy, with the envelope still sealed.
To this day, he will always remain in my heart. I was also thinking back to that night when I saw my Dad. Was it his ghost? Or was it just a dream?