As I'm sure most of the nation has seen more of Church Services and funerals this last week than we've seen for a very long time, I got thinking about the premise of life after death. One of the key roles of the Monarch is to be head of the Church of England and Scotland. We didn't always think of the Queen as a religious leader, but that is just what she was and by all accounts she took her personal faith seriously. The new King has sworn a solemn oath to carry on this duty. The new King has sworn to defend the faith of Christianity to the best of his abilities and carry out the work of Jesus, who followers believe to be the son of God. The central proposition of Christianity is that when we die, we go to heaven if we lead good lives and go to hell if we are naughty. When I was kid, the bar was low for not going to heaven. Missing Mass on Sunday, losing your ruler or talking in class were definite sins. At my Catholic School we were told that there were two types of sin. Mortal sins, such as murder and being a Protestant and venial sins, such as pinching your sisters bacon sarnie when she wasn't looking. Mortal sins got you straight to hell. For venial sins, there was a totting up process, too many and you'd be joining Hitler, Goebells and Ian Paisley in Hell. Priests would remind us of this every Sunday at mass.
My Dad and all of his mates would listen intently, then nip next door to the Catholic club for a ciggie, a few beers and a game of snooker. My Dad was a deeply religious man. He'd been a World War 2 bomber pilot and was convinced that it was only through the intervention of the Virgin Mary that he'd survived. He told me that as he bale'd out of the Wellington bomber, which he was piloting over Rumania on a bombing mission, that had been destroyed by an Me109 night fighter, he prayed for the intercession of Mary and said that if he survived, he'd live his three score and ten years as well as he could and would be a good Catholic. The story of his experience always fascinated me. There was one deeply disturbing aspect that neither he nor I could never really explain. As the plane approached the target, he turned to see another member of his squadron, a pilot called Jack Scheider sitting in the co pilot seat. Scheider said "It's a killer the way these Wimpeys go down Laurie". Scheider had been lost on operations the previous week. My father was about to reply when a burst of cannon fire from the Me109 fighter attacking him hit the plane, taking off half a wing and killing the rear gunner. He got the rest of the crew out and managed to bale out just before the plane hit the ground and exploded.
He could never explain the apparition of Scheider. He only ever mentioned it to close family, not wishing to draw ridicule. I once asked him what Scheider looked like. We all think of ghosts as strange apparitions, but he said Scheider seemed as real as the rest of the crew. One of my uncles spoke to my father and recorded the story. I was passed the transcript when my uncle died. My aunt told me that my Uncle was fascinated by the tale. He was going to write a book of my fathers wartime experience, but they both died before this could come to fruition.
When my Father told me this, I 100% believed he was telling the truth. He was simply not given to making it up. I asked him once what message he'd drawn. The reply? He said it took him a long time to figure it out, but he felt Scheider was telling him that there was something after and that it was OK. He said his demanour was friendly and reassuring. My father said the whole experience strengthened his faith immeasurably.
Have you ever seen a ghostly apparition that you really can't explain. I have on three occasions. The first time was a strange apparition walking across the footpath across St Josephs College fields. It walked straight past me. It looked like a Victorian gentleman, white as a sheet and around 8' tall. It was three in the morning and foggy. I thought "That's odd" and he was gone. It may not have been a ghost, my mother said it was the Grim reaper on his way to harvest souls. I was around 19. It was just odd, I didn't think much of it and it didn't really bother me. The guy looked completely real.
The second time was at a hotel in the USA called the Black Bass on the Delaware River. There was a rather irritating presence in my bedroom. I had a very bad nights sleep, which culminated with the sensation of hands on my ankles trying to pull me out of bed. It was unpleasant, I assumed that he didn't like the look of me. The rooms weren't numbered, they had names like "lavendar" and "willow". The room I was in was called "La Bastard" so I should really have known. You may wonder how I coped? I was really annoyed and told it to "F*** Off" as I hate having my sleep interrupted. I said that if that was the best he could do, he was wasting his time and after that I got to sleep. I was travelling with friends. They were in the next room and heard my comment. My friends wife was terrified, as she knew something was not right. That was in 1993. I really have no idea what it was but it wasn't much fun. I have my father to thank for how I dealt with it. He spent my entire youth drumming into me the message "never show you are afraid to any one or anything, ever". He was raised in the outback of Australia and he said that whatever you are dealing with, be murderers, robber, dangerous animals or anything else, if you show no fear, you have the the best chance. It seems it works with ghosts as well.
But are ghostly apparitions and strange bumps in the night proof of an afterlife? Do they prove that Her Majesty the Queen has gone to a different realm, rather than just ceasing to exist? If I'd just had the two experiences I detailed, I wouldn't be too sure. There are possible explanations. However my third experience left me in no doubt at all. You can make of it what you will. I'm not trying to make any point or convert anyone who is an avowed atheist, we all have our own path and our own reality, but for me it answered the question beyond doubt.
As regular readers will have no doubt deduced, my Dad was a massive influence on me. Although we fought and argued a lot and of my five siblings, I was probably his least favourite, he always had my back and told me a lot of things that he shared with no one else. I think he realised I was a bit of a rebel and he needed to arm me for life more than my siblings, who are a lot more respectable and intelligent.
He passed away suddenly aged 69 from an anuerism in January 1987. He'd been swimming in the sea in Florida two days before. We were devastated, no one more so than my mother. A few years after, she told me she'd not realised how much she loved him until he was gone. But gone he was. I was 24 at the time. It hadn't occurred to me that he was mortal. My mind went back to the deal he made with the Virgin Mary and his three score and ten years. He was in his 70th year. She'd stuck to the deal. He had his three score and ten.
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| Dad, three days before he passed away, with Mum |
The whole family was in turmoil. My parents had been in Florida on holiday for the winter, with my sister Valerie who lives there. My mothers eldest sister had died unexpectedly, so they'd returned. I didn't even know they were back. I got a call from my eldest brother at 8am to say Dad had passed away. My first question was "In America?". We all gathered around my mum, shellshocked. My girlfriend, now my wife, came back from University to support me. I was living above the shops on Mollison Way. Most of what happened was a blur, but two days after he passed, I awoke to find him at the bottom of my bed. I was in it with my girlfriend who was asleep. I was shocked. He looked rather disdainfully at me and said "I've got a message for your mum, tell her I'm sorry I left her, but I had to go". With that, he was gone. I immedaitely woke Clare and told her that I'd seen him.
When I went around later to see my mum, I felt it best to not say anything. In fact the message seemed so nonsensical that I questioned whether it happened at all. I kept quiet. Some time later, I shared with my siblings that I'd seen Dad. I didn't mention the message, I felt they would think I'd made it up. If he'd said "Tell her I love her" or something else, I'd have had no qualms. After about a year, my mother challenged me and said "I hear you saw your father after he died". I was a bit shocked. She asked if I could have dreamed it, as she'd had no sense of him being around at all. They'd been married for 43 years and there was just an emptyness. I told her I was sure that I was awake and he was there. I felt that if I gave her the message, she'd think I'd made it all up, so I didn't.
About six months later, she was starting to adapt to life. We were having a Guinness. I don't know why, but I decided that I'd pass the message on. I felt that she was probably in the right place to hear it. What happened took me aback. I explained that he'd given me a message, but I hadn't felt comfortable telling her. She immediately asked what it was. I told her and she went absolutely mad and threw me out of the house. She screamed "How could you be so cruel" at me. I assumed that she'd simply thought the message nonsensical and was angry at me for making it up. I didn't see her for two weeks, I was embarrassed and didn't know what to say. She rang me at work and asked if I'd come and see her. She sounded quite curt on the phone and I was fully expecting another piece of her mind.
I turned up and we exchanged pleasantries. I'd had about half a can of Guinness when she said "Why on earth did you wait 18 months to give me that message?". I replied that I just felt it was such a strange thing to say and I didn't want to upset you. She then said "Your father always promised that he'd never leave me, but he did. I've been furious at him for the whole time. I don't understand why he said it to you?". I profusely apologised and said that I had no idea that it would mean anything at all. She was quite cross and said "That wasn't your decision to make, you should have told me straight away". I felt really awful.
About two years after that, I was again having a Guinness with my Mum as we did most nights. She suddenly said, completely out of the blue, "I owe you an apology". She hadn't done anything to upset me, so I was puzzled. She then said "I was really horrible to you when you gave me that message from Dad". I was quite embarrassed by the whole thing. I didn't really want to talk about it. She then said "I could not understand why Laurie would give the message to you, of all people. I was angry that you didn't pass it on to me straight away and I was angy that you didn't even appreciate that it meant something so important. But when I thought about it, I realised that your father had done it deliberately. He knew you'd give me the message at the right time, when I would really understand it and couldn't dismiss it. He knew that this would let me know he was alright and we'd be alright. If you'd told me when I was still in shock it would have meant nothing.".
She was probably right. I am sure my sisters would have told her straight away. I've no idea what my brothers would have done. She needed to hear the message, but only when she'd gone through the stages of grief and was back on track. When she said that, the effect on me was quite profound. I realised that my Father had entrusted me with the last and possibly the most important thing he'd done. More than anything, he needed my mother to know that things would be alright and that he was sorry. But he needed her to know when she could fully understand.
Now if you are a sceptic or a cynic, you will find your own explanation. I probably would if I'd read this before the whole thing happened. Until now, only my close family and one or two friends have been told. The last week has made me realise that I should share this. The experience didn't particularly validate my religious beliefs. I don't share this to try and change anyone's minds. I'm posting it because I truly believe that my Father, after he had passed away, had somehow managed to get a message to my mother that he was OK and things will be OK. And if he's OK, then there's no reason to believe we won't all be, is there? If the events of the last week have made you feel unsettled or caused grief, maybe there will be a ray of light.
One thing that interested me was that when my Mum passed away, there was no message, She was just gone. I've no idea how these things work. Maybe we only really get what we need when we need it. I don't really know. At the time, it all made no sense to me. I felt I'd completely cocked up what I was supposed to do. It was only when my mum put me right, that I had any understanding.
I've no idea how common such things are. If someone chooses to not believe what I experienced, I'm totally fine with that. I would be sceptical. I genuinely don't feel comfortable talking about it. On the very rare occasion that I've mentioned it to someone who is not family, I've generally got a very sceptical response and a barrage of questions that I can't answer. The most common one being "Are you sure you just didn't dream the whole thing?". I know that I didn't dream it. I also know that if I'd imagined it or made it up, I wouldn't have made that message up. I was genuinely shocked that it was the one message my mother was looking for. Some years later, my mother told me that when she was writing to my father in the POW camp in Rumania, they had their own secret code to let each other know they were OK. She told me "when someone is special to you, its easy to tell them something, without it meaning anything to anyone else". She wasn't talking about his message, but it made me realise that there was some code in there. I wonder what the 'rules' are if we can get messages across? I got the distinct feeling that Dad couldn't get away quick enough. And in case you are wondering, yes I do have doubts about the whole thing and perhaps my own sanity, in some ways I wish he'd told another of my siblings. It is really quite disturbing when you think about it.
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