A message from my father

"A Message From Dad"

Years ago, when my oldest daughter—now 22—was just one year old, we had a Sunday ritual. Every week, we’d walk into town, visit the park, and browse the shops. One Sunday, we stumbled upon a psychic fair at the town hall. Curious, I decided to check it out.

The hall was packed. I could barely push the stroller through the crowd. Suddenly, a woman touched my shoulder and said, “Excuse me, excuse me—I have a message for you.”

Skeptical, I responded, “Well, I’m not paying for any message,” and started to walk away.

She called after me, “No, I don’t want money. I’ve just been told I have to give you this message, even though it makes absolutely no sense to me.”

That stopped me in my tracks. If she wasn’t after money, I was intrigued. I turned to listen.

She said, “A man appeared to me. A nice-looking man, about 28 years old. He’s wearing stubby denim shorts and jandals. He’s sitting on a couch with a flagon of beer, a transistor radio, and a folded-up newspaper.”

Immediately, my heart caught in my chest. “That sounds like my dad,” I said.

She asked, “What’s with the newspaper and the radio?”

I explained, “My dad used to spend weekends exactly like that—sitting on the couch in those shorts and jandals, with a flagon of beer, listening to the horse races and betting on them. The newspaper would’ve been the racing page.”

Then I paused. “But... he wasn’t 28 when he died. He was 60.”

She smiled gently and said, “When someone passes, they can choose to appear as they were in a happy time of their life. Maybe 28 was when he felt most himself.”

I was about 80% convinced. “Alright then,” I said. “What’s the message?”

What she said next left no doubt in my heart.

What I hadn’t told her—or anyone there—was that since my daughter’s birth, it had deeply saddened me that my dad never got to meet his first grandchild. I also carried guilt that I hadn’t visited his grave—it was just too far away.

And then, her words:

“That is where my body lays, but that is not where I am. I am always with you.”

That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

And in that moment, I became a believer.