Award Winning Best Selling Florida Author Yvonne Mason

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Pennies from Heaven Has Gone to the Editor


Pennies From Heavan

Pennies From Heaven

 

For those of you who have been waiting for this little book of strength and comfort know that it has made its way to the editor. The next step is the publisher. The stories are as varied at the people who contributed to them.     Below is just one story of the many which are included in this book: Bear in mind this is the raw copy – which includes any errors which were corrected in the final draft. Many of the contributors are not professional writers they are just people who have a story to tell. These wonderful people offered to not only open their hearts and the pain of loss but they were also willing to put in on paper. A huge thanks go out to them.

 

 

Still Daddy’s Girl

My parents married for the first time, later on in life. I was born when they were in their 30’s. I was born on New Year’s Eve the following year, and was “Daddy’s girl” from the get go.

My Dad and I always had a very close relationship. He was a very loving Father, and put mine and my Sister’s needs before anything else in life. He did without, so we could have what we needed, or went without to give us “special, little things that would make us happy.”

He always had time for us. Every summer, he would put up a swimming pool for our enjoyment. He loved to take us fishing during the summer, and he would take us to carnivals, and to Peony Park which was an amusement park, here in Omaha, so we could ride the rides and play the games… I can still remember the good times we had, and the happiness, closeness and love that it left in my heart.

My Dad looked out for us in every way possible. Like any child, I thought he was being mean or controlling, when I would get chewed out or lectured “as I called it,” but he was always right and it was love coming from his heart, trying to protect his “little girl.” Dad’s thoughtfulness and wise words and kind heart made me the person that I am today, and I am proud of who I have become.

Throughout my life, my Dad and I always had a special bond. When I grew up, I would take care of him when he got older, just as he took care of me, and that is exactly what I did. I took care of him and my Mother in every way possible.

My Dad’s way of dealing with death was cut and dried. People died, you went to their funerals and paid your respects. He wasn’t one to believe in life after death.

After my paternal Grandmother’s death (his Mother) I had some experiences with life after death. I was very close to my Grandmother also. I told my Dad and my Mom about my experiences. My Mom believed me, because she has had “life after death experiences also.” My Dad was not a believer of such things and tried to debunk my experiences, even though I know in my heart my Grandma was trying to let me know that she was with me and still loved me.

My Dad had a long, chronic illness that was slowly killing him. I was very lucky to have him with me until 2010, when he turned 87 years old. In 2010 he was struggling worse than ever, and I knew that our time together was limited.

 

Decisions had to be made on whether to have them put a tube down his throat, to help him breathe, or to let him die with “dignity.” He had always taken care of me and even though I didn’t want my Dad, “who was my heart to die,” I had to make sure that he was comfortable and let him go peacefully, without suffering.

When the decision was made to let my Dad go, I didn’t leave his side. I held his hand and talked to him, and made sure he was comfortable. I thought that he would pass on quickly, but my Dad held on for several days, which I was believe “for his girls.”

 

About a week before my Dad died, he was in the hospital, and still talking. I remember Dad looking towards the door of the hospital room, when I was there, and he said “there’s Donnie, why don’t you go talk to him!” His brother “Donnie” had died around 8 years earlier. When he told me to go and talk to my Uncle Don, and he said it with such clarity, and I could tell by the look on his face he was truly seeing his brother. I knew that, Donnie had come to take him “home,” even before the thought of “letting Dad go” was even considered.

 

Another thing that my Dad was doing around the same time was, “acting like he was reaching into his pant pocket,” even though he was wearing a hospital gown. He kept doing this and “handing something to me.” He wanted me to open my hand so he could,  “put something in my hand.” I went along with it, because it was obviously something important to him, because he kept repeating this task. I asked him what he was giving me and he said “the keys.” I believe that he thought that he was reaching into his pants pocket and giving me the “keys to the house because he wanted me to have the house and remain in our home.”

 

I made the mistake of not responding to “taking the keys” and despite his 87 years of age and being so sick, his feistiness came out. He got a wee bit snippety and told me to “take the keys.” So, from there on out, he would reach into his pocket, take out the keys, I would take them from him and put them in my pants pocket. He repeated this, to make sure that I had the keys.

 

My Dad always liked to look nice when he went somewhere to visit. He would always be clean shaven, and smelling of cologne, and dressed in his nice pants and a nice shirt. Before his death, he couldn’t talk, but he took his hand and rubbed his chin area. He hadn’t  shaved for about a week. I asked him if he wanted me to shave him, and he shook his head “yes.”

 

I asked the nurse to shave him because I didn’t want to cut him with my unsteady hands. She shaved him and I took a wash cloth and washed his face, and wet his hair down and combed it back like he would wear it, and I told him “you can go now, you are Heaven’s little hottie.”

 

Later that night we were moved to a much nicer room on another floor because the ICU was needing the room. We had a newly remodeled room and my Sister slept on the couch and I took the recliner, and held his hand in mine, and we all fell asleep. The nurse woke me, to tell me “that it was getting close.” His breathing was getting shallow. Within 15 minutes or so, my Dad was gone, and my heart was breaking.

 

Once again, I looked at his face, as I had done with my Mom. All of the years of suffering and the lines on his 87 year old face disappeared. He looked happy and so peaceful! He looked so young, and happy again.

 

After my Dad’s passing I was going through some major depression. I had lost my Mom in 2009 and now my Dad in 2010. Other than my Sister, that was my only family. I was struggling to find a job, had people in my life that “claimed to be friends,” but were treating me terribly, and trying to take advantage of my kind heart. The people that said that they would be there for me, bailed and I was left alone or with people that were not treating me right, and I was hurting so badly, that I excepted that, when I should have slammed the door in their face.

 

My Dad had warned me about one of these people, when he was alive and I lived in “major denial,” and would get angry because of “the lectures.” This person was trying to take advantage of me and brought others into the picture. My life turned into a living hell in every way possible, and I can truly say that I had hit my rock bottom, and really didn’t want to be on this earth, living like this any longer.

 

There were people living in my household that I could not get out of here. They would not leave and the police said that they were “residents” and I would have to do a “legal eviction” which takes 30 days, so they could stay. There was stealing going on, and other things that were terribly wrong. I would sit here and cry and was giving up on my life.

 

I would cry myself into panic attacks, then would fall asleep. I would pray and talk to my Dad, even though I knew that he wasn’t with me and couldn’t help me. I would feel my Dad’s presence with me though. I felt like he was listening. One day, I realized that he was still with me.

 

I was sitting in the recliner watching TV, and I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I looked over towards the hallway, and saw my Dad, walking through the hallway.

 

He was not looking sickly and 87 years of age, but instead he looked young, and healthy again. I would see him from his head down to his chest. He was young looking again. He looked like he was maybe in his 40’s or 50’s. He was wearing a light weight, gray jacket that he always wore in the spring. He would walk from the upstairs door in the hallway, and then disappear at the end of the hall. This gave me comfort knowing that my Dad was still here with me, and he knew what was going on, and listening.

 

I had seen my Dad several times in the same exact place, and wearing the same exact thing. It eased my heart to know that my Dad, who did not believe in life after death, was visiting me when I needed him the most. Daddy was looking out for his little girl and this was easing some of the pain and helping me get through the things that I had been goingthrough.

 

Throughout this time, I never mentioned this to anyone.  One of my roommates came up to me though, and mentioned that he thought he saw my Dad. Well, before I opened my mouth and said anything, I asked him what he looked like, and he gave me the same exact description:  he looked younger and healthy, and  he would only see the upper half of him and he was wearing the same gray jacket. Now I knew that my Dad was making his presence known.

 

Over the next month or so, I would see my Dad. Even though we did not have any interaction, it gave me great comfort to know that he was there for me and I believe he is the reason that I struggled to go on, and got my household situation straightened out, and I was able to start my life over.

 

It means the world to me, knowing that my Dad of all people, the person that didn’t believe in “life after death,” made his presence known, and helped me in my darkest time. My Dad is still “my hero” even though he may not be physically with me right now, I know that he is still with me. I love you Dad, you are my heart!

 

Sharons father

Sharon J. Sobolik                                 Sharons’ Father

May 6, 2013 - Posted by | Books | , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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