The Vigil

12 May 2015 | May 2015

My father’s death was imminent. About 24 hours before he passed, I went to sit outside on a tree stump in a corner of the yard. My father’s home was in a heavily wooded, sparsely populated residential area. As I sat there amongst the trees, feeling the breeze, listening to the birdsong, enjoying the quiet of nature, I began to notice a stream of figures slowly fill the driveway and the path up to the house.

These figures were unidentifiable as any specific individual. It seemed as though their facial features were blurred, even faceless. Some wore long white robes with hoods drawn up over their heads. Others were in regular clothing. There were both male and female figures. It was a very somber procession, and eventually, about 200 were there, silently standing in place. They did not move; they did not interact with one another; they did not speak to me. They simply stood quietly, packed closely together, waiting.

In the ensuing 24 hours, more figures began appearing within the house—at the far end of the house from my father’s bedroom at first, then slowly filtering in to the living room, down the hallway, and finally, a few hours before his death, they filled his room completely. Again, they were silent and non-interactive with each other, although I began to feel warm acknowledgement from some of them. I still could not discern facial features, but I felt immense comfort coming directly from them. They surrounded my father, patiently standing there. I got the sense they could have stood there for years; there was no sense of time associated with them at all. The peace and calm energy that filled that space during their presence was overwhelming.

Eventually, my father took his last breath. A minute or two later, the figures began fading, one by one, beginning with the ones nearest to him and then farther away, in the reverse order in which they had appeared. A small group of about 40 remained outside, lining the path to the front door and down the driveway. When the funeral director came a few hours later, as my father’s body was driven away, they slowly faded as well.

I will never forget the serenity of that time, in what might otherwise be such upheaval and grief. I truly have no doubt that my father was in no way alone in his transition, and that there is certainly another type of existence after this one.


Submitted by Lori.

© 2015, G. Michael Vasey & My Haunted Life (Unless indicated otherwise by author’s own copyright above). All rights reserved.

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