My father was a self-proclaimed atheist in his early years. He lived through WWII and was sure there was no God because of all the violence and cruelty he witnessed and experienced. In his latter years, as his health deteriorated and he felt life drawing to a close, his atheist resolve floundered. Perhaps he felt a pull towards somewhere else that he never felt before, a yearning for a different home, somewhere he was meant to be, a new horizon perhaps that was calm and beckoning to be explored. He questioned his atheism and became an agnostic, not completely convinced but sensing something beyond this existence.
He would say that if there was something beyond this life, he would let us know when he got there. This was usually said in a comic sarcastic tone and we would all laugh with him, like that’s not likely dad but we’ll be looking for that sign from you.
He died of congestive heart failure at 72.
One week after his death, my mother and I were getting ready for the night, our hearts heavy with grief. Suddenly the smoke detector began blaring on the second story of our home. There was no reason for it to go off. I removed the battery and reinserted it, attempting to reset it. I did this twice but each time it would continue to blare. Finally the third time it stopped. We stayed the house for 2 more months and that never happened again. The only time the alarm went off previously was due to steam from a shower in the bathroom nearby and, once, because of smoke from a cooking disaster. None of these conditions were present this time.
Naturally, my mother and I, somewhat jokingly, said “It must be dad letting us know there is a life after death. He sent us a sign.”
It was comforting to think he was safe and perhaps waiting for our eventual arrival, even though we weren’t completely convinced that he actually sent us a sign.
Fast forward 10 years, and my mother was dying of cancer in a different house and in a different state. She lived with me while receiving treatment and was now in the last stages of her life. We often recalled dad’s sign. We’d chuckle about it and say that if a fire alarm goes off after she dies, we’ll know that he sent the first “sign” and that they were both somewhere else, together in another realm.
She died at home, and a week after her funeral, the fire alarm on the second story of my house began blaring. It also had never done that before. It was about 9:00 in the evening and there was no smoke or heat or steam that could have triggered it. It was roughly the same time frame that the alarm went off after my fathers death.
My husband, who ridiculed the first incident as a coincidence, looked shocked. He went upstairs to look for a cause and found none. He removed the battery and inserted it again and the alarm finally stopped.
I am not superstitious but the alarms were a heck of a coincidence if they aren’t “signs” from my parents, especially since sending a sign from beyond was a running “joke” in my family for years as proof of an afterlife. (The presumption was that no one they knew of came back to let them know there was life after death )
I find it comforting to think that they are safe and together again, out of the turmoil of this crazy world.
If you don’t believe, no sign will be enough to convince you, but if you do believe, no sign is necessary.
I’m still grateful for their signals to me. I miss them deeply and look forward to being with them again.
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