My Father’s Passing
My father was a French ophthalmologist and an eye surgeon. He was a fine artist. We all admired his beautiful watercolour paintings of landscapes. The fact he grabbed every occasion to sketch, draw and paint when he had some free time, was indeed very inspiring to me.
When my father was diagnosed with a brain tumour in 2008, my world crumbled. To help me deal with his illness, I trained with the Penny Brohn Cancer care which caters for both people living with cancer but also their loved ones by offering a holistic approach to cancer combining healing, counselling and medical help. This training helped me to respect that my father’s illness was his and that I needed to be here to support him the way he wanted me to, not the way I wanted. This was crucial.
When his tumour took a nasty turn last summer, I knew ahead of everyone, as I had an insight. From then, on, his journey went a downward spiral. The tumour affected his balance and speech. A wheel chair had to be purchased. Then a medical bed. Then another wheelchair and a walker. Until he only came out of his house to go to chemotherapy treatments.
One day I was driving near Bristol, where I live, when I suddenly felt a presence around me. It felt very loving and warm and initially I thought it was my guide or guardian angel. But a friend of mine, who is a little psychic, said “It’s your Dad”. As Dad was still alive, I had not even thought of him but it made sense. He had a message for me. The message was “Come as soon as possible to visit, I don’t have much time”. Before that, I had had a nagging feeling that I needed to visit soon after Christmas. He was due to see the consultant about his treatment mid-January, so I planned my trip for the following day. When I arrived, I found my mother in tears as the consultant had told her that my Dad had only a month to live. Dad was only aware of the fact that they were stopping the chemo. But as a doctor, I can’t imagine that he would not have known what that meant.
From then on, I visited him every other week. Every time, against all odds, Dad found the strength to be with me and even to say short sentences. I was so blessed to be able to pick up the rest telepathically. On one of the very first visits, I went for a run around the lake near their apartment and I saw a parrot fly right in front of me. The parrot made sure I noticed it, perched himself on a branch as close as possible to me, and when I acknowledged it, it flew right into the sky. I had never seen (and probably never will again) a parrot fly into the Paris sky before. Something told me that this was my Dad showing me that whilst he was asleep, he was following me around.
We had three more week-ends of delightful moments with Dad before he started to lose consciousness as the tumour was crushing his brain. I took him for walks. And on the last week-end, was inspired to take him to mass. My Dad was a devout Catholic and I believe this was for him, a very precious day. When I left the next day to fly back home, I saw at lunch that his hand was shaking when he was holding his glass of water. I knew he was trying to hide it so as not to worry my mum. The next day, he lost the use of his legs completely, which means he could no longer be transferred form his bed to his wheelchair at all. A few days later, he was taken into a palliative care unit and put under morphine to help with the pain. I was able to visit him one more time. He wasn’t responding at the time but I knew he was outside his body, watching our every moves. We met with my mother, sister and brother and held hands together and told him how much we loved him. I then flew back home, thinking he would die that night but he didn’t.
The next day, I got the feeling that the reason he hadn’t gone was because my mother hadn’t given him permission to go. So I had a chat with my mother and told her it would help if she could go see him and tell him how much she loved him. I said she needed to tell him how his love had filled her heart and would help her cope until the end of her life and to then give him permission to go. And the miracle is: my mother agreed. He died a few days later. At the precise moment I heard of his death, at 6.30 on the 6th March, I felt intense joy. I felt he had been born into the light. So much so, that he had a new name “Bernard de Lumiere”. This wasn’t his birth name. It was his new spiritual name. My sister reported that at the time she received the call form the hospital to say he had died, three planes flew in front of her in the sky. Apparently my father’s favourite number was three. I was also touched that he died on the 6th, which is my number: 06.03 at 6.30, what a lovely combination. To me that was another sign.
I have had countless signs from him since his death. On the last day of my visit after his death, I was asked to pick some clothes from things that had been spread on his bead by my mother. This was a very emotional moment and perhaps the only moment where I felt tears coming. I absolutely loved a red jumper he used to wear and this is the garment that I picked to take home. I went for a last walk with my mother in the sunshine before I headed for the airport and as we turned the corner to reach Dad’s favourite spot by the lake, a red feather flew by. That was a beautiful sign that he was with me and Mum at that instant. I felt he was thanking me for being such a source of support for her, as she was, understandably, crumbling.
Another incredible sign that I want to share was the day before. I couldn’t attend the mass for his funeral as I had to go back to look after my children, so I decided to go to the church where it was going to take place and prepare the energy for the funeral. I asked the angels to help. I took a picture of the church from the outside with my phone and two giant orbs appeared on the picture. I took another picture to check that it wasn’t my lens that was dirty and the next identical photo with my phone was absolutely normal.
I haven’t felt sad at all at the passing of my father. There has been too much magic along the way to support me and show me that death does not exist. I have actually started writing a book-blog to share my experience with this death which can be found at www.weareallgoingtodieoneday.wordpress.com. And I hope that one day this book will be published to inspire others on how death can be a beautiful process and a deep spiritual experience.
His birthday is coming up on the 11th May and I shall write him a card, like I used to be, an place it on the mantelpiece. I don’t think I will be sad because I know he is still by my side. And we are going to grow nasturtium in our garden so he can come and enjoy it as these were his favourite flowers. I am looking forward to seeing him in his spirit form when he is ready to appear. This will be my first spirit vision. He said he would come and show himself for my birthday in November. I have so much to look forward to. I am blessed.
Ange is a writer and an artist. Her website is www.angedelumiere.co.uk
I am passionate about sharing my knowledge and I am launching a new one day workshop for writers called "I can make you write" which draws upon both my fifteen year experience as a writer and my skills as a complementary therapist who has helped clients unblock themselves for years. If you are interested in getting started with your writing, why not visit my website I can make you write.
I have written and self published one book called Journey of the slim soul which offers a holistic and sustainable approach to slimming. You can find out more about my book at www.journeyoftheslimsoul.com. I am in the process of writing a sequel called "8 steps to I am slim" which offers a programme to really progress on your holistic slimming journey embracing your body, mind, emotions and your soul as you explore how the law of attraction can help slimming and work through the seven golden rules of slimming that are detailed in my first book. This is the journey of the slim soul in action and i am very excited to be in a position to offer it soon.