The Unexpected Magic Surrounding My Father’s Death — and How It May Hold the Key to Living YOUR Best Life
My Dad and I were what some would call: “Twin Souls.”
We had the same life goals. Same goof-ball sense of humor. Same intensely blue eyes. And same desire to make a difference . . .
So if there was 1 person on Earth I was NOT keen on losing, it was most definitely my Dad.
But I knew 1 day it would be his time to go.
I just had no idea WHEN.
And I had even less of a clue HOW MUCH his passing would totally rip my heart open, and transform my life – inside and out.
All for the better.
(By the time you read this entire story, I think you’ll agree with me, too.)
WARNING: What I’m about to tell you may sound far-fetched. Surreal. Or downright crazy.
But I promise, every word is true.
And this mystical adventure all started several weeks before my Dad passed –– when I woke up sobbing (from one of “those” dreams) . . .
DOUBLE-WARNING: This is not a short tale… But there are many magical tidbits that are guaranteed to blow your mind (as long as you read to the end).
Some personal moments have been left out. They are for my Dad and I alone, that I will carry with me for forever.
The goal of this story is to help you deepen your faith in the “unseen”. To trust that love is ALL there is. And that even in the midst of losing the ones you love MOST, there can be immense beauty, and humor, and endlessly loving, divine guidance at every turn…
So back to my dream:
In the dream, I knew something was wrong with my Dad. And in my search to find him, I came across an oversized opening that lead into an abnormally oversized bedroom.
The room was completely empty, except for a bed that was placed in the center of the right wall. My Dad was in that bed, unable to walk.
(You might wonder why I’m telling you all these details? And the ones to come? Because every one of them will be important by the end.)
So I walked over to him, and sat down next to him on the bed. And that’s when he grabbed my hands, and spoke the most chilling words I’ve ever heard:
“I will ALWAYS be with you.”
In that moment, an electrical current ran up my spine (as all my “message dreams” do), and bolted me wide-awake.
I KNEW what those words meant, and I started crying uncontrollably for hours.
My Dad was going to die. And soon.
I went about my life, but that dream haunted me every single day.
Until a few weeks later, late on the 4th of July, I received a message from my little brother, Derek:
“Sis, Dad’s in the hospital. I think you should come home…”
I immediately called my Mom, who eased my worries: “Wait a few more days before you buy a ticket — he may be fine. The doctors are waiting to know more…”
But when I sat down with my journal to have a chat with my Guides (a practice I do almost daily), they said, point-blank:
“Your Father is GRAVELY Ill. You need to get home immediately.”
I jumped online, and bought the next ticket to Indiana.
As I packed, I opened up every drawer and closet, filling my suitcase with various odd and politically-incorrect items…
I packed:
• a small bag of plastic cockroaches
• an artificial “turd” (just in case Dad and I needed to prank one of the nurses)
• a log of “Trucker Turd” soap – as some “classy” décor for the hospital bathroom
• and a bright red “Easy!” button, to inspire dad to take it easy and (hopefully) get well enough to go home…
All to make my Dad smile, and inspire some healing-humor therapy (a McWilliams favorite!).
When I finally arrived at the hospital, my Dad was bedridden. And the light in his normally-sparkling eyes had dimmed. I could tell his mind and body had taken a big blow from his recent brain-bleed.
But we still played some silly games, made faces at one another, and played keep-away with Dad’s dessert tray…
I went home that night with a small sprinkling of hope in my heart…
_________________________________________________________________
The next day, at the hospital, things were quiet.
And Dad was sleeping.
So I closed my eyes to do a quick “Reading” on my Dad (the same intuitive technique I’ve used with all my clients for years).
I was shown an image of my Dad’s Soul standing before me, surrounded by a mob of other glowing, bright-white Souls.
And before I knew it, a giant cylindrical chamber dropped down from above and hovered over my Dad’s head – much wider than his body.
But this was no ordinary beam of light: It was a funnel that was moving — with one beam of energy spiraling clockwise, and another spiraling counter-clockwise.
And after doing HUNDREDS of readings by now, I had never seen anything like that before.
It felt like a portal. A passageway. And my mind instantly thought of all the tales about the tunnel of light people see when they die.
I thought to myself: “I think I am looking at that tunnel right now…”
Then when doing some automatic writing in my journal, I received the message:
“You can’t do anything more to help your father heal — things have been set into motion that you can not stop. Just be there for your Dad.”
And my heart got a little heavier.
I tried to play with Dad a bit, pulling out the bright red “EASY!” button, the silly plastic poop, and the rest of my politically-incorrect stash…
But then, just a few minutes later, there was a LOUD thud to my right — as a small black bird flew straight into the window.
Gulp.
I grabbed my iPad and immediately Googled: “bird flying into window.”
The results were as I expected: The old wives’ tale I had (inadvertently) overheard just few weeks before said that when a bird hits a window, someone was about to die.
And Google confirmed my suspicions.
This was not looking good.
The drive home that night was haunting, too: every single song on the radio was as if my Dad’s Soul was singing right to me… telling me we were always connected… that he loved me until the end of time… and eerily-poignant lyrics that created endless streamers of tears made from a molecular mixture of loss, and love…
And by the next day, my Dad’s condition only continued getting worse, with the diagnosis that my Dad wouldn’t be able to walk, talk or eat ever again. (Not to mention the severe damage from the brain-bleed.)
And finally my family sat down across from the woman from Hospice.
My brother, Mom and I were 10,000% in agreement that my Dad would NEVER want to live this way (he had said so plenty of times), so we made the toughest decision of our lives:
We stopped all life-sustaining support.
It was time to pack up his things, and follow my Dad’s wishes: He had always wanted to die at home.
Mom set up Dad’s hospital bed in the sunroom, and within an hour of arriving, a hospice administrator showed up to help us set up our round-the-clock nursing care for my Dad.
But she looked at us solemnly, and said: “Because this is such short notice, we only have 1 nurse available during the day . . . and, well… Dave is NOT for everyone!”
This woman obviously didn’t know who she was talking to.
With our Monthy-Python-esque sense of humor, the stranger someone is, the more we were sure to LOVE ‘em!
(Dad and I at Halloween — FAR from “normal”:)
****Reminder: All the details I mention are important… keep paying attention!
Enter: “Crazy Dave”…
(“ Crazy” = being a complement in our family.)
“Crazy Dave” as we lovingly labeled him (yes, even to his face) was a character beyond characters:
He was a genius (a real one – truly); a prankster; a kind Soul; and a deep, philosophical and inquisitive “ponderer” of life…
PERFECTION.
It was as if wise, higher Beings had choreographed Dave’s role in my Dad’s passing… and we were all beyond-grateful for his love, energy and support.
Dave stayed by my Dad’s side up until the end: whispering (God ONLY knows what) into Dad’s ear, and holding his hand. Dave felt like family…
He was an Angel with a Diet Coke.
BUT…
Dave had a strange habit of expounding on ideas WAY beyond all our intellectual capabilities combined.
And each day, as Dave would leave for the night, he would stand in front of me, eyes locked, and whisper these hauntingly-confusing words:
“Your Dad doesn’t need to know how to do this… But your Dad is a great man, and the HORSE will carry him Home… ”
(A HORSE?…. Wha????)
And without another word, he would walk off into the night, leaving me scratching my head (but also strangely consoled).
Not thinking much of it, the hours kept clicking by. And except for taking a quick pee-break, or getting a glass of water, I didn’t leave my dad’s side for over 4 ½ days…
Without sleep. Without food. I kept vigil…
One of the nights, when everyone else was asleep, I was standing in the open doorframe of the sunroom, having grabbed a quick drink.
The lights were dimmed, and a strange silence filled the space…
And it HIT ME:
This sunroom was the room from my dream:
• It was oversized – far too big for a normal bedroom.
• It was empty (except for the bed).
• There was an oddly-large entrance into the room.
• The bed was shoved over to the center of the right wall.
And chills went up my spine…
That dream had lovingly prepared me for this very moment — so I could stand strong and be FULLY THERE for him as he was departing his failing body.
An hour or so later, I closed my eyes again to help me tune-in and see if there were any new insights my “Invisible Team” had to share, as their messages always comfort me…
That’s when I saw an outright MOB of bright, shining Beings — my Dad’s parents, distant family, and a gojillion other Souls — all gathered around this swirling chamber of light.
They were cheering! Celebrating! If there was confetti, they were surely throwing it up high…
I was witnessing a party from the Beyond.
And while I could feel this immense swell of love in the room, I also knew what their party was for…
But this vision was suddenly replaced with the faint sound of a song, playing in my head, over and over and over again (a common way Spirits send messages to me).
It was a song from my Dad’s (and my) FAVORITE play:
“Bat Boy — The Musical.”
Our fascination with Bat-Boy started when I was a kid. When we’d go camping, Dad would always buy me the “Weekly World Globe” tabloid — and I would cry till I’d pee, as I discovered new facts about Bat-Boy’s ex-girlfriend; or new sightings of Sasquatch seen wearing a purple polka-dotted dress…
Be still my heart.
So I wrote down the song: “A Joyful Noise” — so I could look up the lyrics later. And here’s what they said:
“Oh the sheep has returned to the fold,
and the Prodigal Son has come in from the cold!
So like the prophets were told in the days of old —
Make a joyful noise, my Soul!”
(PS: You’ve got to imagine a SOULFUL Southern-Baptist preacher jacked up on coffee, shouting these lyrics from the pulpit… With Bat-Boy in the audience, of course… Can I get a “Hallelujah!?)
No song, no lyrics, and no PLAY could have been more perfect than that…
Over those long 4 ½ days, family and friends came to visit, and there were lots of opportunities to hear new stories about my dad.
“Your Dad always wanted to be Mr. Wizard!” mom said a few times over the course of those days.
(Apparently it was a TV show that taught science to kids in creative-cool ways = my brainiac-father’s dream-come-true!)
But there were some odd moments, too….
Like the way my mom would find herself lecturing my brother and I every night on the techniques of good oral hygiene. She’s apparently read an article about how to brush properly, and was worried that we were doing things all wrong:
“You don’t want to end up with dentures at my age! Make sure you brush them like this…” she kept repeating, and demonstrating with the swoosh of her hand near her open mouth — as my brother and I rolled our eyes.
(I know, I know… what does THAT have to do with ANYTHING? Keep reading…)
But on that final day, I happened to get a call from my dearest, oldest friend from High School, Eric…
Eric is a happy-face-with-legs: the most upbeat, positive person that has EVER walked the Earth. And he has an EERIE way of being with me during life’s most intense moments (especially deaths).
Here’s Eric with “Crazy Dave”:
“I’ll be right over!” Eric said, and I hung up the phone.
That’s when I KNEW that Dad would die once Eric arrived.
And that’s exactly what happened.
Just as Eric arrived, I held Dad’s hand for the last time, and kissed his body good-bye.
After he’d taken his final breath, Eric, Mom and I sat around the kitchen table — lovingly and joyfully reminiscing over all the great times, and funny moments, Dad had given to us all.
I can honestly tell you that my father’s passing was — and will probably always be — the most BEAUTIFUL experience of my entire life. Hands-down.
Death is not at all what most Human’s believe it to be… It is not scary. It’s not to be feared. And it most certainly does NOT have to end in sadness, or sorrow…
It was the most INTENSE kind of love I have ever felt. Period.
But, when Eric finally left, the house was unnaturally quiet…
(Yet who knew the CRAZIEST things were just about to begin…)
Mom asked if I wanted meatloaf for dinner – as it was already downstairs, and just needed to be heated.
I told her that sounded great…
And then she went out into the garden to pick some vegetables for our stir-fry dinner. And I was assigned to chop up veggies while she was away…
I felt strangely present. Empty. Non-emotional…
But not in a shut-down way. A fully ALIVE way — taking in every breath, in and out.
That’s when I had a thought: “Turn on the TV…”
But I argued silently with myself: “NOOOOOOO! Don’t numb out. Just be here… now…” and I went back to my cutting board.
Chop, chop, chop…
“TURN ON THE FREAKIN” TEEEEEE-VEEEEEEEE, STEPHANIE!!!!!”
And like a robot, I went over and pushed the power-button, as I instantly downloaded the idea that maybe, just maybe, Dad could now communicate with me through this small flat-screen before me…
As the screen crackled and came to life, the first words I heard from the speakers were:
“…playing dead…”
Well, that was a curious (if not a slightly “tacky”) first try. So gave a grin to my Dad (wherever he was in the room) and thought: “Hm… let’s try this again!”
And I changed the channel for the next (hoped-for) message:
“…two peas in a pod…”
Hm… Another intriguing response, as that described Dad and I to a “T”…
Next channel:
“…nothing like MEATLOAF!”
No way… Seriously? WTF!!!!!!!!!!!??????????
That’s when I knew something was most definitely happening, and I ran QUICKLY to grab a piece of paper and a pen.
Next channel:
“…2 people connected…”
Yup! That’s Dad and I, alright.
Click:
“…let’s go, father!”
Grinning again, I flipped the channel:
“…I don’t even brush my teeth right!”
NO. FUCKING. WAY. (Hey, a girl’s allowed to curse in a moment like this…)
Now my grin had been replaced with my slack, drooling jaw that had dropped to the kitchen floor…
While I was a seasoned-pro at all things “woo”, this was starting to work it’s way to the top of my “Best Woo-Woo Moments of All Time!” list…
Addicted to what was happening, I clicked again:
…there are no coincidences…”
You got THAT right, Dad!
“Mooooooooooooom!!!!!!!! Get your butt IN HERE…. NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I screamed out to the garden…
The next flip of the clicker showed a woman sitting at a table. Cell phone in hand… as the camera zoomed in on her cell phone screen, showing a phone number that had the first 4 numbers identical to my parent’s 7-digits.
Check! We score again…
Then I clicked again — landing on a scene of a boat splashing about in the water.
(And since nobody was talking, it was the perfect time to get my mom’s tushy into the house and tell her what was happening… )
I ran to the garden, talking 1000 miles per hour, rattling off the CRAZY FREAKIN’ SHIT that was oozling out of our kitchen TV.
And as my skeptical Mom often does: She just looked at me inquisitively, and went about making dinner.
(Here’s my beautiful Mother – who has faced this past year with awe-inspiring amazement:)
But when she came in and started helping me chop vegetables, she said:
“Why did you leave the TV on THAT channel?”
I shrugged my shoulders…
“Hm… that was your Dad’s favorite show: The Deadliest Catch…”
(Ah, apparently the weirdness was continuing!)
Eventually Mom went into the other room to start calling family and friends, and let them know Dad has passed.
But I kept watch by the TV, remote in hand… and went back to my game of communicating with Dad.
Now, mind you: I am NOT leaving out any words. I’m not leaving out any dud-channels. These are LITERALLY – first to last – the very first sounds that came through that TV set, with each click of the remote.
And the game continued:
The next channel used the word “poop” and “poopie” both within the first sentence…
I grinned toward my suitcase that was filled with various inappropriate “poopie” items… and flipped the channel:
“We’re in Seattle…”
(My boyfriend was in Seattle on a trip that very day. )
Click:
“… HELLOOOOOOOOO, Mr. Wizard!….”
You have GOT to be kidding me…
Click:
“…that was a 12-day trip…”
I counted on my fingers: July 4th, 5th, 6th…… thru today, the 16th….
If my jaw could have dropped down into the basement, it would have. It had been exactly 12 days since my Dad had gotten sick…
Click:
“I’m a big fan of The Deadliest Catch…”
SHUT-THE-FRONT-DOOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!! It’s still HAPPENINGGGGGG!!!!! Get in here… FAAAAAAAAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Another click:
“…You know I just love pranks!”
(FYI: Dad and I were both pranksters-extraordinaire.)
Click:
And that’s when I hit a commercial….
Then another…
And another.
Click after click, channel after channel, it seemed that my stroke of MIRACULOUS luck had ended.
Mom and I ate dinner, cleaned up, and decided to watch a movie before we went to bed. We both were looking for a mind-numbing distraction after what we’d been through…
So I followed Mom to the bedroom as she changed into her jammies — with me still rambling incessantly about what happened with the TV.
Mom finally turned and looked at me: “He’s going to have to do better than that… I want him to BLOW A LIGHTBULB!”
(I love her to pieces — but WOW, she is one tough nut to crack.)
“No wait…I want him to blow THREE lightbulbs!!!!!”
Sheesh.
“OK, Dad,” I said as I looked up at the ceiling. “You’ve got your work cut out for you… You’ve got till midnight to get this woman 3 blown bulbs!”
And with a giggle, we got dressed, and sat side-by-side on her bed to watch some TV.
About 10-15 minutes into the show, as a new scene started, the main character opened the door of a hotel room, walked in, and flipped the light switch:
— POP!
— POW!
— CRACK!
Three lightbulbs blew, 1 after the other.
And at that moment, even my MOM turned to me… now HER drooling jaw resting in her lap…
“SEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! I TOLD YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!” I said.
(Can you blame me?)
__________________________________________________________________
A few hours later I finally got to sleep — after 4 ½ days of 0 rest.
You would have thought that I’d sleep through the next week.
But no…
A little after 8am, I am awakened by a woman’s voice calling my name clearly:
“STEPHANIEEEEEEEE!” she said.
The voice came from about 1 foot about my face. But when I opened my eyes, no one was there.
Then I saw a quick flash of an image in my mind: an unfamiliar woman, sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window…
And as Dad reminded me yesterday: “There are No Coincidences” — so I dragged my exhausted body to the kitchen. I knew there was a very IMPORTANT reason she woke me up…
But once I got there, I was stumped.
“What do you want me to SEE?” I said out-loud.
But I saw NOTHING.
I spun around in circles. I even went outside and looked around.
Frustrated and defeated, I finally sat down in the same kitchen chair where I’d seen the woman sitting in my mind — and faced toward the window, just as she had shown me.
And THAT is when I finally saw it:
OH – MY – GOD:
…THE CUTTING BOARD!!!!!
Now Crazy-Dave’s strange daily reminder about how the Horse would carry my Dad home was finally making crystal-clear sense…
Mom’s green plastic cutting board was propped up “just so” — allowing the streaming morning light to cast a shadow across it, catching the silhouette of a small figurine — in just the right way that it created the hauntingly-beautiful image of a rounded green hill, with a man on horseback just ready to walk off the right side of the board…
A man, being carried home…
And as I sat there for the next 5 minutes, dumb-struck — I watched that “Horse” carry that man right off the cutting board… and disappeared forever.
(If I wouldn’t have listened to this Spirit’s message, or hesitated in bed for even a few minutes more, I would have missed it entirely…)
I finally got back to bed — and when I awoke, I started scurrying through the house, touching everything that belonged to my Dad.
Looking for clues; connection; hidden treasures.
That’s when I heard it again:
Another SONG:
Now, playing in my head was the soft hum of Frank Sinatra…
As I stopped, and listened closely, I could hear the words in my head:
“Heaven… I’m in Heaven…
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek…”
I put my hand over my heart, closed my eyes… and smiled to Dad.
There was no better confirmation that Dad was having a BLAST from the other side, and was here with us to share the news!
He was happy. All was good. And he was still right here. With us to the end…
And while my connection to my Dad has always been strong — the connection I feel now, AFTER he’s passed, are even STRONGER.
(Crazy, but true.)
Mom and I decided to ditch the depressing “funeral” schtick, and instead throw a giant party to celebrate my Dad’s most-amazing life.
Dad would want (and deserved) nothing less
But there was a whole week left before then.
So one morning I decided to head out to a local park to see if I could find an old tree Dad and my brother Doug would often visit, called the “D-Tree” (because it had a “D” for Doug carved into it’s trunk).
I pulled apart an old hanger, and turned it into a dowsing rod…And no matter how crazy I looked, I was on a mission… I could FEEL it!
Once I got to the park, I felt a pull to the right… and headed around a curving pathway leading deeper into the forest — obediently following my bent-up hanger.
But I couldn’t find the “D-Tree” anywhere!
Right when I was getting frustrated, and ready to give up, the hanger suddenly started spinning around, and pointing 90° to my right… Straight at a very unusual tree.
Well, not technically 1 tree: 2 trees that had merged into 1 another – as if the big tree was hugging the little tree.
(And I got flashes of Dad — always there to protect me!)
But I stubborning was on a quest for a tree with the letter “D”, so I kept on walking…
But once I got 10-15 feet away, that hanger spun right back around — pointing back to where I’d just been.
Hesitantly, I followed it —thinking to myself: “I must look like a crazy old prospector, looking for a wellI”
But when I started walking back towards the “hug” tree(s), I saw it:
The “S” Tree:
Directly across the path, opposite the hug tree, was a medium-sized tree with a large letter “S” chiseled into it’s side.
“S” for = Stephanie. And “S” for = Stephen (my Dad’s name, and who I’m named after…)
And that “S” could ONLY be seen if I’d come from this direction…
Once again, every moment was unfolding perfectly.
I strolled home, filled with a powerful calm, and peace.
On the day of the party, my boyfriend flew in from Seattle, and we packed up the SUV to head to the huge celebration for Dad…
On the way there, Mom was saying that she wasn’t satisfied with the light-bulb scene.
(She had wanted REAL light bulbs blown instead… Oh silly, wonderful Mom!!! )
When whadda-ya-know: just as we approached the banquet hall, we look up to see another gift — from Dad, to Mom:
A giant McDonald’s billboard — with only the word “Mac.”
Wondering why that’s so intriguing?
It’s because my Mom’s nickname for Dad was…(you guessed it!): Mac.
Ever since I can remember:
Mac this. And Mac that. Hey Mac! Where are you, Mac? Cut it out, Mac…
You get the drift.
Anyhoo, the party was A-MAAAAAY-ZING! Hundreds of people sharing hysterical, intimate stories about how my Dad changed their life.
And I most definitely could feel my Dad’s energy in the room, standing off to the left, taking in every word people were sharing.
But the next day my Saintly-Mom needed a break, so my boyfriend and I headed downtown to give her some time to herself.
He told me about an incredible little museum dedicated to Kurt Vonnegut – a famous Hoosier author I knew NOTHING about, so we thought we’d check it out.
Once we got there, and I explored thoroughly, I was in LOVE! Kurt had a mission; a view; a voice; and a sense of humor I SO appreciated. And on the way out, I thought I’d buy a book to remember the moment.
At the checkout, I got “that feeling” – and picked up the first book in front of me, opening it up to a random page.
After taking a quick glance down, I shoved the book up to my boyfriend’s face — my eyebrows raised:
The very first line said the word “Stephen.”
Wow.
No matter how many hundreds of times wild things like this have happened in my life, I never tire of it. (Heck, would YOU?)
A few days later, it was time for me to go back to my San Diego life – and start fresh. Without Dad (physically, at least), but with an even deeper sense of connection and faith.
And believe it or not: crazy things still keep happening… I feel Dad around each and every day. And he continues to keep me giggling…and guiding me.
Why, just a week or so after I’d returned home, while I was looking for an image to use in a new client handout, I opened my photo database to find THIS on my computer screen:
Somehow, some way, a picture of my Dad (and his sister, Sarah) had somehow found its way into the middle of a folder dedicated ONLY to silo’d objects.
(Does your brain really grasp the level of choreography, Souls, time and people required to pull off all of these stunts? It boggles the mind…)
By now, this was no shock.
It also wasn’t a shock to see him planted RIGHT next to the “R.I.P.” image… Dad always has had a SICK sense of humor!
So while this is the LONGEST post in mankind’s history (or maybe just feels like it) — I, as a Recovering-Skeptic, mention all these things to hit home a point:
If you EVER AGAIN think that you’re alone. You’re unlovable. Your butt’s too big. And nobody get’s you at all… THINK AGAIN.
Because the fact is: You are PERFECTION, incarnate — literally a walking, talking Human who’s animated by Source itself.
And you are being guided; protected; loved; and watched over…
24-7. From your first breath, till your last…
( Whether you know it or not. )
And the more tuned-in you become, the more you’re going to see; know; feel; and understand what’s behind EVERYTHING.
And that is love.
Only love.
So I hope this window into my very personal experience provides YOU with a bit more comfort. Trust. Ease. Joy.
That way when you — or people that you adore — are ready to transition to the other side, you’ll have that unshakeable faith that you are NOT alone.
Love NEVER dies.
There’s nothing I’m more sure of than that.
… And wait, don’t forget THIS whopping side-benefit: The less you fear death — the more you live LIFE, too!
My dear friend Ruthie sent me a quote today by Zach Helm that sums things up best:
“All stories must eventually come to an end — and when they do, it’s only an opportunity for another story to begin.”
…Kudos, Mr. Helm!
Sending SO much love your way…
From my heart to yours…
Here’s to you, Dad! I love you…
Stephanie
PS: Here’s a picture of Dad teaching me how to FLY: Sure, I’m way too big now to be swung around naked in a towel (and I think that might be illegal in most states, anyway) — but he most-definitely taught me a thing or two about how to fly high through life…
And he will always be the wind… TOWEL… beneath my wings!
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