When my father came and told us he was ill with Lymphoma, we were all in a complete state of disbelief. Panic sunk in, and I did not know what to do. Growing up, I never really knew my father. He was quite the unique individual. He was calm and quiet, but with one word, he had enough strength in his voice to scare away a lion. Though reserved and slightly inverted, he had moments where his lively personality popped out. It was almost as if he felt he could not be who he wanted to be.

He was mysterious because he hardly spoke; not too many people knew his true thoughts and feelings. With that being said, I prayed to God to please allow him to be cured. I did not know this man I called father. I needed time; we all did.

He went through his grueling course of treatment, which put the cancer into remission. We were all so happy. I thanked God often.

Because my parents were separated, I made it a point to see my father as often as I could. I would ask him questions about his thoughts, and took interest in the things he liked to do like gardening. He would walk with me around his house. I would follow like a little girl as he pointed at each flower, naming them one by one. (I was in my Mid-Twenties ) He was so proud, it was as if they too were his children. I tried my hardest to remember which flower was which, because he would quiz me each time I went there.

Over the years I developed my relationship with my father. Many years that were lost were being made up.

One day I was dropping my husband off at a job. As I pulled away from the curb side, I heard a voice say, “Your father is sick again.” A feeling of complete gloom, and deep sadness came over me. I knew the message I was receiving was from one of the angels. I also knew that if they were the ones telling me and not my father, that my dad did not know yet.

I cried my whole way home. I got out of the car, and felt like I could not breathe. I went into the house and told my mother the message; she had no words for me.

I waited a few days, and then called my dad. I asked him how he was feeling. His reply was slow. He told me how he had to go get tests done because he had a lump in his neck. He said the results would take a couple of days. I knew then that it was not going to be good.

A few weeks later, he told us he was very sick with leukemia, and they did not know how much they would be able to help him.

Gosh I prayed. I prayed to God even harder this time then I did the first. I said to God, “I know I asked you for time, and thank you for giving it to me. First I needed time because I did not know the man I called father, and now that I know; I don’t want him to go!”

Two and a half months later, my father passed away at the early age of forty eight.
I miss him dearly! I am thankful to the heavens for giving me the heads up!!! I think the shock factor would have been multiplied had they not!!!

Submit Your Question to Lucid

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!