Part VI - Whaaaat's that you say? Something about Monday night?

This is a continuing story of God's provision. You've got to read this post. It'll amaze you!

Here are Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V.  This post picks up with the days following Dad's death. My husband and I were out-of-town, staying with Dad's wife Peg. A neighbor was keeping our three children while we were gone. Although Dad's condition was serious, nobody expected him to die during this visit. But listen to what happened...it's astounding..

Unexpectedly, Dad passed away Monday night, and on Tuesday, we met with the funeral director and the pastor. As was customary back then, we made plans to wake Dad on Tuesday and Wednesday and arranged the funeral Mass and burial for Thursday morning.

Oddly enough, my ticketed flight was returning home Thursday night. (Keep that thought...that will be useful information later.)

Everything was falling into place, but I hadn't yet spoken to the kids or my neighbor who was keeping them. Joe and I had already realized there was no way we could get them to the funeral. They'd have to fly alone, and we weren't comfortable with that. Things were happening so fast, it was all we could do to keep pace.

So we needed to call them and deliver the news, but I felt like I was on a treadmill.
Monday night we got home from the hospital too late to call. I didn't want to phone before school on Tuesday morning, knowing I'd upset the kids. When I tried to call after school, however, nobody answered. (This was before cellphones.) Once again, Tuesday night, after the wake, it was too late to call. The days were slipping by.

I finally reached them Wednesday after school. I first spoke with our oldest child, Lynn, who was 12 at the time.

When she asked how things were going, the words just blurted out of me. "Grandpa died on Monday."

"Monday?" she cried. "On Monday?"

I didn't expect that. Really, why had it taken me days to get the news to them? I tried to explain.

"I'm so sorry," I said. "It was too late to call Monday night, and Tuesday I tried and nobody answered...I didn't want to call before school...so this was the soonest I could reach you..."

It wasn't until my husband and I were back home, talking with Lynn face-to-face that I understood the reason for her reaction.  

We were talking, and I again started to explain to her why it took days for me to reach them with the news. But Lynn stopped me. "I wasn't upset about that," she said.

Then she explained.

"The reason I was upset was because Monday night while you were gone, it felt like someone walked into my bedroom as I was falling asleep and spoke to me. I don't know who it was, but it wasn't scary. It felt like it was someone who loved me very much, like it was you or Dad, but I knew it couldn't be you or Dad because you were both in New York. But someone came into my room and whispered to me, 'Grandpa's going home on Monday.'"  

Tears filled her eyes.

"I thought that it meant he was going home from the hospital," she said. "I thought he'd be alright."

Chills ran through me.

Grandpa did indeed go home on Monday. And I'm sure he's, at last, alright. 







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