This happened to me about three years ago. It was about two months after my father was involved in a horrific car accident, he was driving home from work when two boy racers sped around the corner and collided head on with my father's Citroen. The two boys were unharmed of course why wouldn't they be. A passersby rung the paramedic and he was rushed to hospital where he fought valiantly for his life but the internal injuries were too serious to beat and he later passed on in hospital. I was informed the next morning.
My dad's death hit the family hard, nobody would talk to each other, it was as if a void had opened up. When we sat down to watch TV, a coldness would spread amongst me and my sisters and our mother would just stare off disconnected into distant space. I would go to my bedroom early from supper and just cry and scream into the casing of my pillow. It seemed that not only had I lost my father but also my family too.
One morning I woke up went downstairs and I have no clue to why I did this but I made my Dad breakfast. His favourite: buttered toast, fried eggs with bacon, beans and a glass of skimmed milk. I was about halfway through when I dropped the knife while slicing the toast and realized I was cooking for a dead man. Anyway that's not the story.
I had had enough of all this, I was in the depths of depression and really just couldn't bear the icy silence of my sisters and the almost senile shallowness that had enshrouded my mother. Suicide was the best option. I trudged over to the local rocky mountain cliffs and climbed to the nearest peak. I edged to the descent and stared sadly down at the jagged boulders beneath. I glanced at the grey sky above as raindrops fell and just as I was about to take the leap of life, I heard him. His rough voice said the word, "Live" into my cold ears. I stood on the edge of that cliff, on the edge of existence, listening to him say over and over again to me that one word - "Live."
I could sense him by me, I believe even now that if I had reached backward at that moment in time I would have touched my father's black burial suit. Then suddenly the rocks cascaded from underneath my feet, my arms whirl winded and I witnessed myself plummeting downward to my death. But alas I am here writing this story and before I plunged to my untimely end, a hand, a firm but light hand shot out, grabbed my shoulders and flung me backward to safety. I got up, scanned around but nowhere could I see a single soul. I went home alive.
To this day I still cannot understand what happened to me, but I have my wonders, hey why do you think I'm posting this story here. Hope you enjoyed my experience and if there are any questions just E- mail me them.