.... I grew up in a very active area for spirits of the departed. My dad and I both saw the same little girl who had passed during a flood that occurred years before in the area we now lived in. I was always a sensitive empath, so it really didn't surprise me when we started hearing doors open and close a d chairs move ... here's a quick breakdown: My dad was a musician who primarily played old blues from the late 18 early 1900s... We started hearing childrens laughter coming from upstairs when he played music downstairs..

Our kitchen chairs would push themselves away from the table and against the dining room walls (which I didn't know was a very common occurance in Mennonite communities so you could use the table to help prep dinners and such.

I was having a rough night, so I decided to go upstairs and get a glass of water... as I was walking up the stairs half asleep I saw a little girl walking downstairs and I thought it was my little sister... I lifted my arm, and the girl bent down and walked under my arm and kept going.... two steps later, I realized I could see the banister through her. A couple of years later I mentioned her to my dad and he got a weird face and asked me to describe her... I did (short 10 or 11, pigtails and some sort of dress) he told be of seeing her one night and realizing he could see the vcr though her as well..

There were other events but you get the drift..

I'll leave one more story here tho. My dad passed away in April after a quick bout with cancer... the last 5 days he was non-responsive, but we all took turns staying with him until the end... During this time I mentioned to him that if he could let me know if he got to the "other side".....as it happened he passed at dawn ... I was there with my sister ... she was starting to panic and woke me from my doze ... I went and put my.hand on his head and watched as his pulse started to flutter I leaned down and told him to go in peace... and he just left. As I told my sister he had gone an older dementia patient that.had come in the night before started to yell my name over and over (up till now she was quiet) My sister though her tears told me to shut her up, but she heard my name as well "WIN! WIN! WIN!"...so I opened the door to fetch the doc to confirm time of death and as soon as I did she started a pointing gesture (my dad was a big hand talker) and said "WIN, YOU DO A GOOD JOB!", "YOU DO A GOOD JOB WIN"!... pointing with each word... I'll never forget that... my dad's last message... looking after the family is now my responsibility (being the oldest) What's the point of these stories...

He passed and gave me a message that he made it. I'm not afraid of death... its just the how I worry about so I hope it's not painful or slow....