I am very moved by the death of Ally's father. In the years that I have been reading her blog, I have grown so fond of Pa, as she always called him -- a gentle, dependable soul, just anti-establishment enough, and with a wry sense of humor. I will always cherish the memory of one occasion when Pa did not want to meet with some relatives of Ally's husband because he had already met them once; why would he want to meet them again? I believe that will make me smile for the rest of my life.

I have learned through my own experience that death is not the final slamming of an impenetrable door. My own father died 25 years ago, and he has spoken to me twice since then. I need to give a little background for the first one -- the Professor was a good friend of my brother's when we were kids, and he spent a lot of time at our house. My father was very fond of him and took him hunting a few times. Of course, the Professor and I went our separate ways (after being each other's first boyfriend/girlfriend) and got back together something like 27 years later. At that time, because I was being seriously harrassed by an ex-husband (and there were no anti-stalking laws) I slept with a 12-gauge shotgun under my bed. The Professor saw it there and got such a nostalgic look on his face, as he had used that very gun. After he had gone back to Houston (I lived in Dallas at the time), my father pretty much chewed me out: "Why didn't you give him the gun, Gooney Head? [his name for me when I had displeased him]. I want him to have it." The words were in my head when I woke up; it was very much as though I had just received a phone call, or listened to a message on an answering machine. They were just there, in his voice.

The next time my father spoke to me, I was driving back from Houston and the bottom of the sky dropped out. The rain was blinding; I literally could not see the road. To my amazement, I shrieked "Daddy!" and immediately I heard him say "I'm right here, Princess. I won't let anything happen to you." And I knew I was okay.

I also heard from a deceased good friend, again with the words in my mind when I woke up, as though she had called me. Her son was drinking way too much and she said "Please go talk to him. I can't make him hear me. You have to make him stop drinking." I think maybe he was hearing her more than she knew, because when I told him that this would sound crazy but his mother sent me, he merely nodded. Unfortunately, even double teaming him, we only slowed him a little, but we couldn't make him stop completely.

I may sound as though I've gone off the deep end and am making stuff up, but all I can tell you is that, if so, my imagination sure works a lot faster than my brain does. What I honestly believe is that those who have loved us are still watching over us -- not hovering, not intruding, just nearby. They are ready to protect us if we need it, but they also (and more often, in my case) remind us that we can be kinder, braver, more generous, and just generally a better person.

If I could sit and have a cup of tea with Ally and give her a real, as opposed to a cyber hug, I would tell her all this. I can't explain it, but I have always felt such a connection to Pa, and I just know in my soul that he is going to continue to watch over his family.