“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ~ Albert Einstein
One Friday when he did not appear in class, his daughter called to say he needed skilled care nursing. I planned to visit him that next week in September.
My husband, Michael, had left for work so I sat and let the feeling linger. A sensation of protection and swirl of calm made me feel secure and settled. I held it close and didn't want it to end.
Suddenly Michael burst though the front door, "Something's going on. Turn on the t.v."
We shared the horror as the towers fell.
Throughout the day I continued to experience my father's presence.
Two days later on the day I had planned to visit my writing student, I received a call from this daughter that he had passed away.
She explained that he had gone into a coma the day before 911. Her voice wavered when she said, "He sat up in bed and said - America is under attack. Two planes have struck. Then he closed his eyes."
Even with training as a clinical psychologist, she had no answers. His prediction overwhelmed her as 911 unraveled.
She formed the notion that when one is near death, possibly they receive communications. "Maybe he picked up the terrorists' frequency?" she said but didn't believe her words.
I wish I had told her about my sensations.
The cocoon I felt from my father continued during the weeks after 911. It provided a cushion, helped me process and deal with the enormity of the situation.
Never has it led me with a predicting capability. I'm grateful for that.