Six weeks after my brother's death, the night came for Dad to die. The doctor came in telling us he could do nothing for him. And then, with a gasp, Dad took his last breath. The air was still and yet there was a Presence larger than life as Dad left his body. The Presence was palpable and real, yet unseen. I did not trust this, yet I knew it to be true. "It feels like a birth," my sisters said... Years later, I was sitting at my desk. Suddenly, I heard a voice, my father's voice. There was no one physically there. And yet, I heard my father speaking to me. "Bobby and I are together now. We are doing fine. We're with you more than you think."
Healing does not necessarily mean to become physically well or to be able to get up and walk around again.Rather, it means achieving a balance between the physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual dimensions. . . .At the end of their lives [five-year-old children with leukemia] they have little or no pain.They are emotionally sound, and on an intellectual level they can share things it is almost impossible to believe could come from a child.To me this is a healing, although they are not well from our earthly point of view.