WHILE he passed away, Dad gave the biggest gift….

When my father passed away, I saw the most amazing thing…

This is the first time I’m sharing it publicly. It was a personal thing and quite frankly I feared what others would think. Recently however, it’s been a memory and vivid image that keeps popping up in my mind’s eye and in my energy space, the more and more I do psychic Akashic Record soul readings for clients. So I acknowledged the signs and here I am now happily sharing it with you.

The week before my father passed away in 2013, he came down with pneumonia. It was the second time he’d experienced it in his life time. The first time was in 1996, he was in hospital and delirious for over a week. I was very scared at losing my father.

My stress was at a peak as I was the “medical liaison” of the family and I wanted to know what was happening to him. I remember speaking to one of my university professors to find out all I could intellectually. I was studying for finals to complete my double major in psychology/ psychophysiology, in my Dad’s hospital room. It was a trying time to say the least.

After several chats with my professor, hospital staff and 6 nights of sleeping in the chair in his hospital room, Dad came through and recuperated his strength and focus. Funnily enough, I got dux (top score) for the exam I sat in the middle of that distressing week. Thanks Dad but don’t need the stress anymore to excel at what I set my sights on! But I digress.

In 2013, 17 years later Dad came down with pneumonia again. This time his situation was different. Not only was he 17 years older, an 85 year old man, he’d also been in a nursing home for the last 10 years.

What got him into the nursing home? In 2003, a severe “depression” over took my father upon his return from selling the family home in southern Italy. It seems that while he was logically and rationally ready to be rid of the house, we soon discovered he wasn’t emotionally detached from it. That “severe depression” became a psychotic depression that deteriorated into a dementia of sorts. At least they’re the diagnoses that seemed to make the most sense for Dad. I wasn’t quite convinced.

He really had some difficult and challenging behaviours which I’ve come to learn were more PTSD symptoms. The phase outs he had, the flashbacks his eyes indicated and spontaneous aggression outbursts. I learnt he was actually having visual hallucinations that he couldn’t verbalize. Imagine watching someone’s eyes move as though they are watching an internal movie. Witnessing this several times, “phase outs” which I noticed lasted up to 20 minutes, he’d then “return” exhausted and just sat there. I just held his hand and reminded him he was safe and what year it was. It was heart breaking to watch his distress.

For those 10 years we all as a family established a new relationship with Dad. We all ensured that his nursing home care was as integrative and supportive as possible. Bless the management and staff of aged care facilities, supporting the resident and their family as such difficult times. As family members, we went through the “double death” they talk about with Alzheimers. Where we lost the father and husband as we knew him for 75 years of his life and instead, watched him transform in ways that a “new version” of Dad appeared. He was alive and looked after but who we knew had passed. At times we caught glimpses of him and we rejoiced in those moments.

Then it came to the week Dad was admitted to the hospital with symptoms of delirium and unusual weakness. That first night, I got the low down from the resident Doctor. Compassionately caring in his communication and explanations that Dad didn’t seem to be fighting the pneumonia as they would like to have seen. First time in my life that I heard the words from a Dr… “It’s best to call the family to get ready”. I remember staring at the Doctor asking him to repeat what he said and what he meant, while my knees literally wobbled and the blood seemed to rush out of my head. That’s a vivid memory.

For the first two days Dad was able to open his eyes and acknowledge us. He lit up with my nieces and nephews which was a delight to see. He actually chuckled with such heart when my great-nephew did something funny that we all had a collective moment of upliftment seeing him so energized. Maybe the Dr. was wrong and that other percentage chance was kicking in.

Then day three onwards, Dad was slowly slipping away. Made as comfortable as possible over that week, my sister and I yet again slept in the hospital room every night. Waking up randomly, a moment of disorientation of where I was, then that familiar jolt upon remembering I was in Dad’s hospital room and the whiplash of looking over at Dad. Was his chest moving up and down? Was he breathing? Is this it?

Bless the nursing staff that know that visiting hours don’t apply in these circumstances and that immediate response to any call or concern is a given. Bless them for supporting us doing the Italian thing as a family of 20+ come in and out of the room and yes, having the typical Italian food feasts as a family. The way we did at the family home and the nursing home those last 10 years. His eyes may have been closed and he may not have been speaking to us, but his heart was open and his presence strong.

As we shared in Dad’s last days the fear of his passing was reducing for me. I was coming to terms with the fact… this was…. passing over. A transition. I may not see him physically but I had always sensed him clairsentientally anyhow. His spirit would still live but the body wouldn’t. We all know that day comes for all of us.

There were several moments when it seemed his breathing was really becoming laboured and “this was it”. Nope, not quite! Eight days went by like this. Maybe that’s normal but you can imagine how you’d be on tender hooks at a time like this. Knowing what’s to come and saying your goodbyes as best you can in those moments… then having mixed relief, sadness and confusion.

Before I get to the amazing thing I saw… I want to mention a funny thing that happened first. Now don’t get me wrong, we weren’t “rushing” Dad to move on, but we WERE confused as to why he was doing the “come and go” so frequently. In the ample time I sat there keeping him company, reading my work, preparing for meetings, doing business etc, I had mind conversations with him. Whether I got clear responses I honestly can’t recall, but I conversed nonetheless!

One night Dad’s head nurse attending to him had to move past my mother sitting next to Dad. She saw my mother’s shin. Mum had a cellulitis that she was being treated for in the preceding week. It turns out it significantly worsened before any of us noticed, Mum included, being so caught up in Dad’s situation.

The nurse quietly pulled me aside and started with “If your mother was my mother…” and advised I take mum to the ED for admission. What she saw seemed to be an amputation risk. My only response beyond wide eyed shock was “You’re F*!@ kidding me, both parents in serious care?”. Please note, this said completely with a tone of immense gratitude that she took the time to notice and communicate.

My sister and I brought her down to ED and Mum was admittedly near immediately. While my sister took care of Mum I went back upstairs with Dad. Honestly, thank goodness for text messaging to keep in touch in these circumstances, even if only 5 floors apart.

Then it happened…..another signal that Dad’s breathing was changing with longer gaps in between. I called the nurse and her head nod was a definitive. What? Now? Once mum was out of the room?....aaarrggh…. only in the movies does this kind of s*!t happen. Really?

Then it occurred to me. Dad had always been mega protective of Mum and us as his daughters. It was a given in the extended family that you didn’t play games with our family, cos you’d have Dad to answer to. As intimidating as that sounds (which it was to a degree!) it was actually full of love. It dawned on me… could it be that Dad didn’t want to go because he knew Mum was in a bad way? That now that she was admitted and in care, he was “happy” to go? We’ll never know the answer by Dad’s confirmation but one thing was for sure. Within that half hour, he rapidly started making his exit as I rapidly called my sister to have them both come back upstairs.

As my Mum and sister came back into Dad’s hospital room, and my other sister was in Dad’s hospital room bathroom, I sat in my usual spot just past the foot of his bed and watched. Everything went surreal. It did actually do the cliché “slow down….everything was in slow motion”. While there were decent energy from my family starting to mourn in emotionality, I couldn’t muster up much outward emotionality because I was lulled into this sense of peace and wonder. Strange but I went with it!

I watched Dad. I watched his breathing shorten. Each inhalation come at longer and longer intervals. He wasn’t showing any discomfort, no change on his face. He remained just as steady and at ease in the bed as he’d been the last few days. The colour in his face changed, slowly dissipating from the rose tones we don’t normally notice… until moments like these when those tones fade. As his less coloured, pale appearance started emerging on his face, arms and hands, the parts we could see above the hospital bed sheet… I saw the most amazing thing.

I watched his energy, a dense almost golden light but not quite, float out of his body. I blinked a few times and moved my head backward to refocus… um, still happening. I went with it. I’m sure I looked like a fish with open gaped mouth as I stared, in the midst of this peace and serene feeling that overtook me. There it floated, slowly departing his body and heading outward to my left, his right. Light substance, actual substance, gently leaving my father’s body as I watched his body change colour and show the shell of this once enlivened man. Did anybody else see that?

I snapped back to the ‘normal’ pace in the hospital room as I watched my Mum cry and kiss Dad on the forehead. One sister crying silently and the other crying with a little more volume. My brother-in-law let the tears stream down his cheeks. The moment happened. Dad passed over. Dad transitioned.

The visual and the sensations of that transition were an absolute gift. It is as strong and vivid with me today as it was on May 8th 2013. I’m sure there are some thinking I may have mental health problems but it’s hardly surprising for a psychic attuned to intuitive and spiritual healing to have developed their inner eye to such an extent. I just didn’t realise how much my clairvoyance had actually developed and strengthened during my years of meditation and spiritual training. Until that moment. Thanks Dad!

For not only showing me I had that ability but for seeing the glorious process of your passing over. It was already a blessing to be able to share that last week with you knowing we were saying goodbye to our physical time together and had the week to do so. To know that while the physical exchanges have ended but your soul and spirit is alive and well, is a constant comfort.

The fun times with Dad didn’t even stop at that moment of passing over. He had more to do and say in the following month of his passing! I laugh at the memory of it. I’ll write another piece about THAT month!

For now, when I say “Hi” to Dad, ask for guidance, I share a memory we had with him or I feel to share an experience I’m going through (like he doesn’t know anyway from his vista spot!!), I can clearly sense that same energy each time. It’s wonderful.

I wish everyone to know about that truth. The truth of the soul body and that it is this that animates and provides colour and life to our body. It’s there and real and ever present. It energizes and animates us and keeps our bodily functions alive and well. Alongside the physical mechanisms and their incredible systems and processes that support us too.

Thank you Dad. Not only is it a blessing I was able to be gifted with, I am now even happier I can share it with others who may find solace, comfort and perhaps empowerment in knowing that it’s possible. Or maybe also confirming that what they’ve seen with their loved ones passing over, they are not alone.

Dad, as we came to say during our interactions on the physical plane, “I love you sempre”. Sempre means “always” in Italian. Gotta love the Italian immigrants for mixing English and Italian in one sentence. I still do it to this day and always will!

I love you sempre.​

​Seeing my fathers soulful journey over his life and his soul departing his body simply catapulted me to dive further into my spiritual healing and teaching for clients and students. ​Check out this easy webinar video to find out more about how a psychic taps in to your Soul Blueprint and reads your negative karma to be cleared so you not only access your Blueprints gifts clearly, you also uncover and connect with your Soul Purpose much more easily. Watch your free webinar here. Consider subscribing to the channel so you stay up to date on regularly posted videos.

Elizabeth Celi
 

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