Most of my followers will remember my dearest mother in law recently passed away.
She died instantly, without giving us the option of saying goodbye. Or maybe, without hurting us with the painful struggle of a farewell for life. According to her caring personality, she passed away very quickly, with no one around at that very moment. She was the one who always took care of everyone she loved. She tried to keep all nasty things away from her children and her loved ones. She tried to conquer her difficulties in life herself, like she didn’t bother us with her death.
After someone beloved passes away, I always feel the spiritual world very close to me in the weeks after the disappearance of life. It seems to me like the doorway of heaven is left open for a tiny little bit, to provide a precious farewell between heaven and earth at the time ones life on earth is ended. Wonderful events might occur during those weeks.
When my father left us, the world showed me lots of wings. Wonderful dragonflies in beautiful colours, lovely birds and sweet butterflies where around me all summer. On his birthday, I was at work, on the 6th floor of a building. Sitting behind my desk I heard a knocking noise at the window. A bird was sitting on the window ledge, tapping on the glass with his beak and staring at me with a compassionate look in his eyes. It was a very spiritual moment I will never forget.
My father loved churches. During his working life, what continued until almost his last day on earth, he drove to his customers in the northern provinces of the Netherlands to tune various pianos into wonderful sonorous instruments. When he saw a church, and when he had some spare time, he went out of his car for a walk around the building. Staring at the bricks which were there for ages. Sniffing the atmosphere of days long gone by… A very special church for him was the Mauritius Church in Marsum, near Appingedam.
I never went there, but he told me about this church so frequently, that I longed to visit it with him. When he was diagnosed with a very aggressive cancer, he asked me to join him on a special father-daughter trip to visit the church once more before he would die. Unfortunately, life decided differently and my dearest, apparently immortal father, died a few days after we promised each other to go for this trip. I kissed my father and I washed him, telling him how much I loved him. I dressed him up in the most beautiful suit he had. Through the mist of the tears in my eyes, I put him in a coffin and kissed him goodnight forever.
Softly spoken words
When I was driving in the province of Groningen with my husband and my son, the next morning, because I had nothing with me what was suitable for a funeral and we had to look for a shop which was open on a Sunday, we suddenly decided to search for the church. Right after this decision, I felt a warm feeling in the car. Without any map an invisible feeling told me where to turn right and where to turn left.
I never went there before; this part of the province was new to me. Softly I felt spoken words in my head. Softly I felt an immense feeling of love. And suddenly, the church appeared in front of us. It was such a spiritual experience, I will never forget that moment. I think my father really kept his part of the promise we did a few days before. And so did I. I believe we were both there and I sung for him, alone in the little church. The same song I sung on his funeral, a few days later. Alone, a capella, his lifeless body in a firmly closed coffin in front of my eyes.
After my mother in law died, similar things occurred. Simple messages, little noises, softly spoken words in my head.
Last weekend, we made our last ‘big move’ in mom’s house, where we live nowadays. We arranged the attic into a sleeping room for ourselves and our son got his own space in our former bedroom.
Before going to bed, I was in the bathroom and I heard a little sniffing sound in the hallway. I looked up but I saw nobody apart from a kind of fog around the lamp. Nothing else. When I was in bed, trying to sleep, the stairway was squeaking. I thought our son was awake, as it was the first night in his new room. I went out of bed, opened the door to speak to him, but no one was there. It was silent. Calm, but the air was filled with love.
Someone was there…