The Meaning Of Life From My Dead Father....

Chapter 1- Let Me Introduce You To My Father.

So, to begin a story like this you need to know my dad. My father's life. You gotta start from there to get to here.

My father was born near Philadelphia, PA. His name was Stanley Wannop. Yes, an unusual last name. We were told it was an old Welsh name that meant... 'those who dwell by the dark hollow'. Others say it was the name of the Welsh village his family came from. All I know from old records is the first of his descendants came from Wales to America in the 1760's to avoid persecution. Not religious persecution...but from being tried for theft. Yes, my father's ancestor may have been a bad boy.

My father was born in the 1920's and his family was quite poor. He would have to drop out of school at a very early age to help his family survive. But, for this time period, it was not unusual. Many youngsters would drop out of school to help their families during the Depression...The Great Depression.

In his teens, my father would meet my mother. Her name is Mildred. And, her father was one of the good guys. A Philly police officer. So, I now know where I get my 'good side/ bad side' from.

Poppa, (most of the family called him Pop, but I called him Poppa) was a tough guy. He rode motorcycles in his younger years and drove trucks throughout his life. Huge, big rigs for Tose Trucking Company. He would do this for over 30 years, sometimes working 12 hour days and long nights. It's what he had to do for a family of 8. Eight children that is. Six girls, two boys. One of them blind. And of course, take care of his wife and watch over his brother Ray, my uncle who lived next door. Poppa had a lot on his plate. And he had to fill that plate with food. Plenty of food to feed all these mouths. So not only did he drive a rig, he was also a farmer. He bought some land on the corner of a 5 lane intersection in a little historical village named Plymouth Meeting located just outside Philadelphia.

We had a few acres where we would grow all types of veggies. Corn was always a favorite along with green beans, carrots, pumpkins, zucchini, lettuce and the best green peppers and tomatoes around. The soil was perfect for all these foods. But, it was tough work. All of us would be out in the chilly March weather preparing the ground for growing season. Poppa would be driving his tractor and till up the earth. We would be spreading manure. Yup, the real thing. Straight from my horse. That's where you get the term 'sh*t-kickers' you know. We had many other animals on the farm. Cows, donkeys and chickens but when I was a teenager, it was my horse that added the best ingredient to the garden.

Poppa had constructed some small beds made from window sills and glass. They made the best little hothouses. Great for getting the tomato and pepper plants started. When the plants were mature enough, we would move them to the larger plot of land. We literally would have hundreds of tomatoes throughout the summer. Beefsteak, cherry tomatoes, you name it. Fresh from the garden.

Across the street from our little farm there was a Catholic school and church. Epiphany of Our Lord Catholic Church. This would be the school and church where I would learn everything there was to know about the Bible and God's Laws. I would go to catechism class and learn all about the Bible. We went to church regularly, sometimes 3 times a week. I read stories in the Bible about angels and demons. About premonitions and prayers coming true. Although we didn't discuss the 'supernatural' at school, (the nuns frowned on this subject) I was very interested in it. I kept my interest to myself because I was having some unusual experiences of my own growing up. I guess you'd say I was 'open'. Opening up to the other side. Today, I call myself a sensitive. I don't call myself a psychic or a medium. I did, however, see things I couldn't understand. Things that others did not see. I would feel cold spots where cold should not be. I knew of spirits and knew of another side. Sometimes, I had premonitions of the future, like predicting whether someone would get in a car accident, etc. But, when it came to death, I wasn't quite sure what that was all about. I didn't quite understand the process of the soul leaving the physical body. Where did it go? Was there a heaven and a hell like the nuns taught? And where did the soul come from originally? We were taught that God would give the human body a soul, but why? And, according to the church's teachings, you only had one life to live. One. And, when you died you went either to heaven or hell. But, if you weren't baptized, you went to purgatory. This is what I was taught. But, it wasn't exactly what I believed.

I had a close encounter with death when I was approximately 12 years old. I was electrocuted. Electricity would course through my little body with incredible pain from a faulty wire in a kitchen appliance. I could not release my grasp. Pain coursed through my arm into my chest. I thought I would die. I was so young and didn't know what to do. I was terrified. Then, an unseen, other-worldly voice would instruct me how to save myself. This voice wasn't in my head. It sounded as though it was right beside me. As the thought of dying went through my brain, this voice yelled at me.

"No you won't! PUSH!"

I lifted me leg and pushed against the counter. I was able to break the connection and fell to the ground. My heart was pounding through my chest. My right arm throbbing in pain. I laid there on the ground and was stunned. I couldn't believe what just happened. Who's voice did I just hear? No one was home at the time so it wasn't a family member. This would be my first encounter with my own mortality. This encounter with 'Spirit' would open me up to the 'other side'. Unfortunately, I had more questions than answers. But, I wouldn't understand the process of life and death until I reached my 30's. Yes, it took a while. And it would take a dead man to tell me all about it.

Living on the farm was very difficult for the family. It took it's toll physically on my father. After 30+plus years of driving a mac truck without a single accident, Poppa would have what he thought was a minor fender bender. A young woman whom was just learning to drive rear-ended my father's pick up truck. Whiplash. But he didn't think too much of it. There was no real damage to his vehicle, so he went on his way. Over the months, he would suffer from severe neck pain. It turned out he would have to go through neck surgery. Between the surgery, emphysema ( he was a smoker earlier in life) and arthritis, Poppa would have to retire from the trucking company. He would continue farming, but not for long.

He fell very ill during Christmas of 1991. At first he thought it was just the flu. But, something else wasn't quite right. He was feeling weaker instead of getting better. January of 1992, he would have an aortic aneurysm and pass away just shy of his and my mother's wedding anniversary.

I remember getting the dreaded phone call in the middle of the night. One of my sisters called to tell me the bad news. Being half asleep, I didn't understand.

"What do you mean Pop's gone?" I asked.

And she proceeded to explain that we lost Poppa. He would have been 67 that year. To say I cried was an understatement. My sobbing must have woke up the entire neighborhood. I was living in Kentucky at the time, and it would be days before I could go back to Pennsylvania to be with my family at his funeral.

Now, as much as I loved Poppa, we didn't always have the best relationship. It was a 'love/hate' thing. But, he was my father. He was extremely strict and you never disobeyed him...ever, or you would have to face the consequences. But, I had to release those memories and remember how hard he worked to support us all. How he taught me about gardening, taking care of animals, how to change the oil in my car, etc, etc. But, he was about to come back and teach me a little bit more.

Chapter 2 - "But...you're dead?!"

My first husband and I packed up the car and headed to Pennsylvania for Poppa's funeral. Now, the one thing I hate are funerals. I would much rather have a celebration of life than a somber crying fest about his death. But, here I was looking down at my dad as he laid lifeless. He was dressed in his best suit coat and even took his leather cowboy hat with him. Along with a beautiful sterling silver ring embedded with turquoise. Gotta admit...he looked good. For a dead guy, I mean.

I guess, the one good thing about a funeral is you get to see your family. That's if you like to see your family. And, I for one, do. I like my family a lot. Growing up together on our little farm was hard work, but we ended up with a lot of funny stories from those years. After the funeral, we sat and reminisced and had a laugh or two. We still tell some of those tales today. Like, how I burned down the haywagon. Well, that's another story for another time.

Now, this was not the first funeral I had been to. I had lost all my grandparents when I was quite young and remember going to my grandmother's funeral at age 8 or 9. I didn't understand at the time that she was gone. All I remember from that funeral was that she was in a box and everyone was sad. That was my first experience with death. No one would explain to me why my grandmother was in a box. Why was she sleeping in there, I would ask? In the years to come things started to get funny. Not funny..haha. Funny, strange. This is when I would begin interacting with the other side. In my teen years I would try to talk to my grandparents through ouija boards and tarot cards. It would be just the beginning of my journey to find out about 'the other side'.

But, it's very different when you lose a parent. Very different. Suddenly, you realize that they won't be there for you anymore. They can't answer the phone and talk to you about their day anymore. They won't be there for Sunday dinner. You can't ask them for help about a problem. You go through the motions of grief. Disbelief, sadness, sometimes anger. For some, the mourning process takes but a couple months. For others, maybe a lifetime.

Weeks passed and soon it is March, 1992. I am home in Kentucky going about my normal life back at my job, keeping house and raising my stepson. All seemed normal for a while until one night I had gone to bed early and had fallen into a deep sleep. I am not quite sure what time it was, but I believe it was between 3 am and 4 am when I received a visitor.

At first, I awoke in a panic. Like someone just shook me awake. My eyes were wide open and I tried to adjust my vision in the darkness. At first, I thought I had something in my eyes. There was a white mist that was forming just to the side of my bed. I shook my head to readjust and the cloud started to grow. It took up the whole right side of my bed and had a faint light pulsating in the middle of it. I thought maybe the house was on fire, but I could feel no heat or see any flames. And then, from out of the mist, emerged a hand. A man's hand. Facing palm up. I knew that hand. It was my father's. The years of farming and driving made it weathered and worn. And here it was, coming through the light. Then, I saw him. He was glowing. He was calm and had a gentle smile on his face. He didn't completely leave the cloud, but he leaned out towards me.

"Hello, Christina", he said. "Come, I want to show you something." My heart was racing. Was I really seeing this?

He reached a little further towards me. So I took his hand and then it hit me! The thought jumped into my head as soon as I touched his hand. "But...you're dead!"

Chapter 3...So this is Heaven?!

The minute I touched my father's hand I was swept away. Not me physically, although it did feel like that. But, this was an out-of-body experience. And it felt incredible but a little scary at the same time. So many emotions were running through me at once but they disappeared almost immediately when I started to feel the cool mist of that white cloud on my face. I could actually feel it as if I was walking through a dense autumn fog. My hair was being blown back as we flew. Yes, we flew. But, I couldn't see my father ahead of me because the mist was so thick. The moment I realized I couldn't see him is when we suddenly stopped. I was standing upright and still a little confused. Where was Pop? I could feel his hand but couldn't see the rest of him. Again, as soon as the thought entered my mind, he appeared with a huge smile on his face. I looked at him and he knew what I was thinking. He told me that this was Heaven. I looked around. All I could see were clouds. "Clouds? That's it?!", I thought. He smiled again and told me that Heaven is what ever you want it to be.

So, I turned my head and squinted my eyes to see if I could make out what my father's idea of Heaven was and if I could see it. And, that's when the clouds started to break away. Shimmering pockets of color started to pulsate through the clouds. They took on more vibrancy, glowing brighter and brighter. Beautiful, radiated hues that I had never seen before. There is just no describing the colors. Imagine the most incredible sunset you have ever seen and multiply it by 1000!

Then, hillsides of green and gold appeared. Streams of aquatic blues flowed passed me. Then, a small cottage appeared, then two. Like the quaintest, little shire in old England. As I turned back to my father he pointed toward the ground and I saw a little garden. Tomato and pepper plants. Just like from our farm. He looked at me and asked if I remembered what time of the year it was.

" Yes, Poppa, it's time to get the beds ready for the garden." I answered.

I felt it very unusual that he would be gardening. Aren't you supposed to take it easy in Heaven? Do people still eat in Heaven?

Poppa just smiled at me and said "Heaven is what you want it to be."

So, we walked along the rows of plants as if we were back on the farm making sure no critters were nibbling on them. But, I guess you don't have to worry about that in Heaven.

We continued our walk around the beautiful landscape and Poppa started to tell me about the 'process'. What I have been waiting to know my whole life. What mankind has been asking and contemplating for hundreds and thousands of years. Why...are...we... here?

Chapter 4...Heaven and Earth are Weigh Stations

So, Poppa says he wants to show me more of Heaven. Yes, I would love to see the rest of Heaven. And, what appears in front of me is a small, white scooter. More like a white golf cart. Now... I am starting to doubt my experience. This is too strange. Not at all what I thought I would be seeing in Heaven. He asked me to get in so he can start our little tour. As we drive around, he begins to tell me about the 'process'. The 'process' from life to death. The great mystery. He says you must look at life and death as...weigh stations.

Weigh Stations? That's the great secret to life?

Now, truck drivers out there will understand this. But,if you don't drive on the busy highways you may not know what they are. Weigh Stations are specific checkpoints for the delivery trucks and big rigs. It's where commercial trucks are inspected to make sure the load they carry is the correct weight. To make sure the log books balance out. Balance is very important if you are carrying heavy loads in the beds of your trucks.

Balance is everything when it comes to life and death.

Here is how we start in life. Life is just like starting out on a great assembly line. You come off brand-spanking new. No mileage on the odometer. Just need to put some fuel in your tank and off you go. And over time, you acquire items. You start to fill your bed with, well... stuff. Some people feel they need to fill it up with so many items until it can't carry any more. It becomes overloaded. Overloaded with things you don't even need. And, this can start to wear you down. It puts a strain on your under carriage, your tires, your engine. Your engine overheats and breaks down. Just like in life. Your heart can be weighed down by too much excess in your diet. Or, too much stress from the many responsibilities of your job. Or, buying the latest gadget only to buy another the follow week to keep up with trends. You start to hoard because you feel out of control. This takes a toll on your engine- your heart, mind and spirit.

And, God forbid you get a flat tire on the road. Or you jack knife your truck because you're going over the speed limit. The road is very bumpy and has potholes along the way. Hitting one can put you out of work. And, if your load isn't balanced and you take a sharp turn on the highway...not only will you be hurt or even worse, but you can hurt others along the way. We all have loads to carry. Everyone's is different. But, it's how you manage your load that can get you to the weigh station safely for an inspection. This is so you may take a breath and evaluate your journey.

The weigh station is when God may call you aside and say that you need to evaluate your load in life. Maybe you need to release some of those goods to make your load lighter. Or, just rearrange the load so it is more balanced. It's very important to take note in your logbook if you are getting enough rest. Or, are you pushing your engine too hard. The weigh stations give you time to get a good look at your vehicle (motor, chaste, etc.) to make the right choices so you can move on. When you are good to go, you move slowly back onto the highway to finish your deliveries.

Then, many years pass and you make it to the end of the highway. That is where you can fully unload everything. Hopefully, you have made deliveries over your time on the road and you made your journey lighter. So when you reach the end, there isn't very much left. Just who you truly are. Because if your bed is still full of items, you now have to spend time going through them all and figuring out where they should go now. You should have been doing your deliveries over your lifetime. Giving to others. Remember, you can't take it with you. That is, the physical items that you have been buying all these years. But some folks don't want to let go of their possessions. They become too attached to an object or objects. Some people have a very hard time releasing things. They feel owning the latest product or gadget or car will make them happy. But, maybe it has been overworking them instead.

You have to release from this world what isn't needed in the next world.

Release anger at a neighbor. Release fear of tomorrow and live for today. Release these things that hold you back so you can move ahead. If you don't, you can remain on this worldly road and become a ghost. A ghost is trapped on this plane, on this road of life. Ghosts can't move on because they refuse to release things of this world. Some folks don't know they passed and continue to cling to their possessions. They still feel the emotional connection to our 3 dimensional world.

In order to find peace, you must release.

But hopefully, over all these years, you have emptied you truck. There are no more products, gadgets or gizmos to deliver. Just you. And after all these years of being on the road avoiding bad weather and dangerous curves, your boss turns to you and asks if you wish to retire from the road or do you want to go back and drive another route. Yes, God is the boss. Or you can call him Spirit, Universal Law, whatever you're belief in a higher power is. If you are told you may retire, you may stay in your ideal Heaven. If you believe in reincarnation you may be asked to come back to Earth to drive another route. Maybe in a different town or country. Or maybe you are asked to come back because you didn't finish cleaning out your truck bed. You must go back and finish your deliveries. Or,it could be God needs you to go back and help another trucker on their route. Because of your experiences in the physical Earthly world, God will ask you to be one of the people who work the weigh station, guiding truckers safely through life.

Or, you can retire. You cleaned your rig. You finished your route. You can stay in Heaven. And, once in a while, you can go on vacation back to the Earthly plane and visit family or friends if you wish. You're retired. You have free will. You can travel. Anywhere!

This was the meaning of life...according to Poppa.

Now, all this information is coming to me in waves all at once. So much is shooting into my brain. I have no idea how much time has passed while we were talking. It felt like days but probably no more than seconds had passed. We continue to walk and I realize that the clouds are starting to close in around us. The colors aren't as bright as they were earlier.

As I look down I see a face in the clouds. It is the face of my Uncle Ray, my dad's brother. I look over to Poppa and ask why I am seeing his face. Uncle Ray was still alive at the time. Poppa tells me he must watch over his brother. I was a little upset by this statement. I asked why he wasn't watching over Mom? Wasn't she a priority? He chuckled a little and told me that my mother would live a very long life and that it was important for him to watch over his brother. His time was drawing near and would need his help. He was right. My uncle would die a few years later. My mom...she's still here at age 94.

Chapter Five...Saying Good-Bye...again.

My father turns to me with a more a serious look on his face. He gives a little nod and tells me I can't stay any longer. I have to go back. These are not the words I want to hear. To be in Heaven with no pain, no worries and getting to see my father again had been the most wonderful experience. I didn't want to give it up. I didn't want to go.

I step out of the golf cart and turn to Poppa. He smiles and tells me one last thing.

"Tell your mother I got my little cart."

Then...back in bed. Just that suddenly. As if I was dropped down from the ceiling. I literally bounced back into my body. I was home. And, I cried. I don't know how long I was gone but, I know I cried for over an hour. Silently to myself. I didn't know how to tell my sleeping husband that I just left for a little while to visit my deceased father while driving around in a little cart in Heaven. How do you do that? So I kept it to myself. For a long time.

Chapter 6...Hey Mom, Pop's got a message for you

The experience changed me. I had always known that the dead can come back to visit and guide or help us, but now I had proof. But, how do you go to your mother and tell her that you just had a message from her deceased husband? This was kinda tricky. Delicate. So I would have to wait a few months until I thought it was the right time. It would be months before I would find the courage to tell Mom that Poppa stopped by to say hello.

It was later that summer when I knew it was time. I was still living in Kentucky and decided to call Mom. My family had told me she was going through Poppa's things and giving away any item of his we may have wanted. I would not wish this process of grief on anyone. The amount of heartbreak can be cruel. Dozens of memories swimming back through a person's mind. Could they have done something different to change the outcome? Why would God take their loved-one away now? But when Death comes, it is for a reason. It has a job to do and it does it well.

So I make the call. I'm a little anxious but I am also filled with happiness. Yeah, I was happy. I was about to share a wonderful experience. I was busting to tell her. But, I had to do it slowly. I knew my Mom and most of my family didn't really believe in ghosts. Well, atleast they never told me they believed. I always thought I was the only one. But, I would find out later in life some of my siblings also knew about the other side and had their own experiences. Boy, I could have used their help when I was younger. I was so confused about seeing and hearing things. But, back to mom.

Mom answers the phone. She sounds rather tired. I don't exactly remember how I started to tell her, but it was something like this.

"So, Mom... I had something really crazy happen to me a few months ago. I actually had a visit...from Pop."

She was kind of quiet. I think her response was...ooohhh?

I went on to tell her everything that happened that night. I don't think I took a single breath through the whole story. But, then I came to the end.

"Poppa says he has a message for you. He says to tell you he has his little cart."

I think my mom dropped the phone. I gave her a minute. Her response was what I was hoping to hear. She told me that there was no way anyone in the family knew this. She told me she and Poppa were going to buy him a little scooter or cart so he could move around the farm a little easier. No one knew about it.

What's funny is that the experience opened up a new channel for me between my siblings and mother. We began to talk more about our paranormal experiences. I found out my sisters had visits from people who they were close to in life. It feels good to be able to talk to someone about the other side and not feel uncomfortable or afraid to be laughed at.

I still have visits from my father. Yes, he comes back but not in that grand gesture floating through clouds. I see him in dreams and he loves to send signs that he is present. When I need him most, he'll send me rainbows. Some days I test him just to see if he's still listening. One day I asked him to send me 2 dimes, face up before I got to work one night. Within 20 minutes, he did. One in my car and the other at the entrance where I worked. Both heads up. I told myself I should have asked him for $20. Funny thing is I would ask my deceased sister, Gay for the $20. I received it within a few hours as a tip from a client. Sure, I could ask for the lottery numbers, but I don't want to push my luck. I just love the fact that they are here visiting me. Really!

I know I will continue to have experiences the rest of my days. And, when Poppa comes to me in my dreams, I let my Mom know. She's always quick to ask..."So what does your father have to say now?" She herself has been visited. He came by one night when my Mom hurt herself. He made fun of her, she says. Poppa had (has) a funny sense of humor.

So, I've come to the end of my story. Actually, there is a lot more to it. But, that will come another time. This isn't exactly the end, you know. Each day of life is another page, another chapter or even another book in our lives. Live it as if you are at the end of the highway. Will you make your deliveries today? Will you give from your heart? Will you balance your load in life? Keep your engine running smoothly? And, when you reach the end of the highway you have a decision to make. Make it a good one.