“I could feel his presence when I needed him.”

My uncle died a few months ago.

Uncle Harry was like a father to me.  My dad had left my mother when I was only a child and although I didn’t see Uncle Harry a lot (he lived about one hundred miles away), when he did drop by there was a special connection between us.

Even as a small child, I felt the tight bond between us, especially when we hadn’t seen each other for a while.  For instance, I could feel his presence when I needed him, when I was especially vulnerable.

Once, when I was surrounded by some kids who were teasing me on the schoolyard I could tell Uncle Harry knew I needed help.  I could hear him telling me to stand tall and not be afraid.

In fact, that night Uncle Harry called and asked how I was doing.  When I got on the phone, he said he knew something had happened that day and wanted to hear about it.

I’m twenty-four now and when Uncle Harry took ill about a year ago, I immediately called him.  He said he wasn’t surprised I knew something was wrong even though he had told no one about his illness.

When I went to see him, he confessed he knew we had something special the moment he saw me as an infant.  Somehow we had bonded right away and we were on the same wavelength.

One more thing:  the night Uncle Harry died, I heard him say goodbye to me even though we weren’t even in the same vicinity.  His private nurse called me to tell me of his passing and as she started to tell me his final words, I blurted them out before she had a chance to say anything.

She said that’s exactly what he said.

M. Rushanti
Topeka, KS