It's Sentimental Sunday on Geneabloggers and Father's Day so how could I blog about something other than my Dad?
It's been 9 years since I was was able to say Happy Father's Day in person & honestly they just don't seem to get any easier. I thought about writing a post about how great a Dad he was, what a fabulous Master Gardener he was, and how he was my biggest fan when it came to my paintings. Without his emotional support I never would have had the courage to exhibit anything. But instead, I thought I'd share a story of how my paranormal addiction really started.
I was always interested in things off the beaten path so to speak, and have had many unusual experiences over my entire life, but the one that really convinced me I wasn't just nuts involves my Dad.
The story begins back in the spring 2005. My father was not in a good place, fighting a losing battle with stomach cancer. Naturally I'd visit him often, sitting by his bedside and chatting about everything & anything. I can't remember exactly how the conversation came up but I asked in a jovial way...
"So Dad, when you get to the other side...you're going to send me a message or a sign right?"
He chuckled and said "Who do I think I am your mother?"
We both laughed and he said "You know I'm not into that sort of thing."
Smiling I answered "I know.... but it will make me feel better."
He rolled his eyes and that was the end of that conversation. I didn't think anything about it after that. I think I just accepted it wasn't something he would do.
He passed away at the end of May, and sometime around June we were all getting ready to have a yard sale. One of my jobs was to go through the antique bookcase of old books, most of which were old literature that had been passed down from his parents. The majority I had never looked at before, even though I am the family historian and like old literature. Anyway, I'm standing in my parents dining room & gently looking through them as they are really old & fragile deciding to "keep" or "sell".
I pick up Tennyson, The Complete Works of Alfred Tennyson, and suddenly it is pushed through my hands and on to the floor. I was a little stunned & thinking 'What the hell? How did that just happen?' I bend over to pick up the book & all I see is the title across the page & then again at the beginning of the poem. It says "The Gardener's Daughter". My breath is stolen away, chills set deep in my core, and a wave of emotion floods me instantly tearing me up. I pick up the book and stare at the page...I can't even begin to read it, I see "painting" & "Go and see the Gardener's daughter". I shut the book, tears streaming down my cheeks, and whisper.... "Thank you Dad, I love you."
Amylynne (Baker) Murphy