I read some stories here and after reading I figured I would share as well.
I had a struggle in my early family life. We moved around a lot, lived in very poor neighbourhoods, my father struggled with Chemo from his stomach cancer, and a drinking problem. I'm now 24 years old all grown up. My change in my faith happened six and a half years ago. I experienced very unexplainable events that first started in October 2003. My great aunt on my father's side who we really did not talk too died and that brought the whole family together.
At this time my father now 42 years old finally started having almost like a second wind with my mother in their marriage. Things were on the up and up. It seemed that the family was finally doing well, my brothers went into the service my parents were working and we finally had a stable family home life. Then In November 2003 approximately one month before my 18th birthday my father died of a severe heart attack outside a building in New York City. He was pronounced brain dead and the doctors said his heart gave out and that it was best to think about pulling the plug. The decision was made and my father was given his last rights. I never ever in my life had seen my mother who was a full blown agnostic cry and pray to god for my father.
A few nights after that, I was in the house standing with my mother in the kitchen. I was talking to my mother trying to make her laugh and I said something inappropriate and at the same time my dog was in the living room. She jumped up and barked. There was a thump that hit the wall. She was wagging her tail like she knew someone was in the room with her and she was staring in a corner in the living room where a lamp was shaking back and forth like someone had moved passed it and knocked it gently. The windows were shut and there was no wind no ceiling fan. Afterwards my mother laughed and said "your father always told you to watch your mouth in front of me". After that I reevaluated my whole life.
After my birthday passed my mother's very good friend and family physician had spoken about seeing my father in her apartment one night. A few days later she died in an accidental death. She was a very sweet woman with a whole life ahead of her and her and my father were very good friends always joking to one another. I felt so bad for my mother and I tried keeping her spirits up.
A month later I had a dream. Before I went to bed I was angry. I was yelling to god, I was yelling at my father and just yelling at anything and at everything (needless to say I was pissed). My father came to me in a dream and told me everything was alright. He was in his favorite blue tank top that he always wore. He told me to take care and that he would always be around and that he was safe.
I have still struggled along the way with my beliefs My father was a altar boy growing up in the 60's my mother grew up very poor and was not a believer and didn't want to force us into religion but I today can say I do believe in my faith and the afterlife no matter how uncertain and sometimes unfair it may be. I can say that my father taught me an important lesson. Always think clearly and do the right thing and to not always be angry at things that you cannot control.