‘I had a special sup­per with Dad’

Spirit and Destiny - - Editor’s Letter -

Sue Sharp ex­plains how a psy­chic's sug­ges­tion brought her a sign from her fa­ther in spirit and helped her say good­bye

Af­ter her fa­ther’s sud­den death, Sue Sharp got

to say good­bye in a rather un­ex­pected way ‘It’s such a re­lief to know Dad’s do­ing okay’

The de­li­cious smell of roast lamb filled the kitchen, Dad’s favourite. I laid out two ta­ble set­tings, one for me and one for him. Steam rose from the plates as I set them down and lit a white can­dle. Gaz­ing into the flame, I silently prayed. ‘Dad, please join me for sup­per. Give me a sign you’re okay.’

I felt silly. But I was des­per­ate to con­nect to my dad, Don­ald, in Spirit.

Six months be­fore, in Jan­uary 2008, he’d died sud­denly of a heart at­tack, aged 74.

It was such a shock. He and my mum, Vera, were just a few months away from their 50th wedding an­niver­sary. We’d been plan­ning a big party and they were look­ing for­ward to the fu­ture.

The hard­est thing was none of us got to say good­bye to him. Dad had been my rock and I missed him ter­ri­bly.

What was I hear­ing?

Hop­ing to ease my grief I’d vis­ited a lo­cal psy­chic, des­per­ate to find out if Dad was do­ing okay on the other side. The read­ing she gave me was com­fort­ing – and also in­trigu­ing.

‘Your dad wants you to know that he’s do­ing well and he’s al­ways with you,’ she said. ‘If you want to con­nect with him, throw him a ‘dumb sup­per’. Cook him his favourite meal, play some of his favourite mu­sic, light a white can­dle and in­vite him to join you.’

Was she se­ri­ous? I’d never heard of any­thing like that be­fore. It sounded such a strange thing to do. But the psy­chic told me it was an old Pa­gan tra­di­tion and could be re­ally pow­er­ful.

‘By hon­our­ing de­parted loved ones with their own special sup­per, you are invit­ing them to join you – just like you would when they were alive,’ she ex­plained.

‘But I’m not psy­chic,’ I said. ‘Will it work?’ ‘I think you’ll find you're in for a nice sur­prise,’ she replied, with a smile.

So now, weeks later as I sat at the ta­ble, din­ner pre­pared, wait­ing for a sign from Dad, I was still feel­ing a bit scep­ti­cal.

Then I re­mem­bered I’d for­got­ten to put any mu­sic on. I scrab­bled around for a CD but all of Dad’s favourites were at Mum’s.

‘Never mind, I’ll have to do this an­other time,’ I said to my­self.

Feel­ing de­flated, I switched on the TV. As it burst into life, I couldn’t believe my ears. Time to Say Good­bye by Kather­ine Jenk­ins was playing. It was one of Dad’s all-time favourites – we’d even played it at his fu­neral! I knew this was his way of say­ing hello. The psy­chic had been right!

I didn’t tell Mum about the dumb sup­per or Dad’s sign be­cause ev­ery­thing was so raw. The last thing I wanted was to up­set her. But I did ring my daugh­ter Sarah, to tell her.

‘That’s amaz­ing Mum,’ she said. ‘It’s such an enor­mous re­lief to know grandad is okay.’

Since that night, I’ve never doubted that Dad’s still with me. Only a few weeks ago, I re­ceived an­other sign.

Mum’s rev­e­la­tion

While driv­ing to Mum’s on the mo­tor­way, Close to You by the Car­pen­ters came on the ra­dio. Dad of­ten played the song when I was younger. Sud­denly, I was over­come with emo­tion.

As I wiped away my tears, I no­ticed a num­ber plate on the car in front of me with the let­ters DON – the name we called Dad for short. I knew it was yet an­other mes­sage from heaven.

This time, on ar­riv­ing at Mum’s, I couldn't wait to tell her ev­ery­thing.

‘I'm not sur­prised love, I talk to your dad all the time in Spirit,’ she con­fessed. ‘We even bicker some­times – just like we did in life.’ We both laughed.

It’s such a com­fort to me to know that Dad is al­ways watch­ing over us.

Now I know that rather than say­ing good­bye, he’s say­ing hello again.

It's good to know we're be­ing watched over

Dad had al­ways been my rock

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