I believe that my death is not to be feared.
I am the product of a second marriage for my father, one that was loveless.
When his first wife died from cancer, my father quit his cancer treatments. I didn’t understand it then, but he wanted to be with her.
I slept on the couch in the living room of my parent’s house the night before he died. Days earlier, my father tried to get out of bed to get dressed as he was expecting “Al” for lunch. Al had been his first wife’s brother and his best friend – he had been dead for many years.
The family dog was curled up with me under a blanket. I woke as the dog jumped to the floor and trotted through the dining room to stand outside my father’s bedroom.
The dog started barking and seemed to be following something from my father’s room into the living room that I could not see – that’s when I felt flushed with emotions at a cellular level. It was a love from my father that would be for me, always. The glow faded as the dog tore at the front door to follow that something out onto the front porch and down the stairs onto the walkway.
My father’s heart stopped the next afternoon, but I believe that part of us, that spark, left the night before.
He taught me that there are two parts to us; the physical and that spark within us. I know where the physical part will reside after my passing. I don’t know where the spark will go, but I know from my father that it is good.
As I received treatment earlier this year, I was without fear. I believe that I will join my father, as he joined his first wife, and that it will be a loving joining and not something to be feared. I will leave my love behind, just as my father did for me.
This I believe.
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