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Let me tell you about my little girl

KenJ

Moderator Emeritus
Let me tell you about my little girl.

T_____ is actually my second child, I have three daughters. However, When T____ was just three years old, her mother sent her into the living room so that I could take her picture in her new Easter outfit. While framing her in the viewfinder of my old Argus C3, I saw her as I had never seen her before that moment. It was if I had never really seen her before. That was my introduction to this soul that I now know that I have traveled with through many lifetimes.

Although I do not recall prior lifetimes together, I know that our love for each other goes beyond this one lifetime. T_____ has always been “sensitive” in that she has always accepted the spirits that visit her. An example is when my sister’s husband died, he spent several days “hanging out” in her bedroom because he found it to be a comfortable and friendly place to “be”. As a young teenager, she found this a bit embarrassing and felt the need to dress in her closet.

She was ten when I was injured/disabled and had to deal with family issues that were beyond what I would have wanted anyone, including me, to deal with. Throughout it all, she stood beside me as she was a “Daddy’s Girl”. She was my “other-hand” when I needed to do things when my physical limitations got in the way. She helped me lead a “normal” life despite having some severe inabilities, all that I had to do was act as the person that she saw me as.

When she graduated from college, she married her boyfriend from an area near her College, some distance South of our home. She and her new husband were in love and close to each other in the sense that they completed each other’s sentences and knew each other’s thoughts, so much so that she knew that the marriage would not last (2 years).

A year or so later she was again in love and on tract to having the large family that she wanted. She found that there was an RH incompatibility with her husband. Her first child was a boy she named D__.

I picked up the phone the day that she went to the hospital to have them check on her pregnancy (then in the eighth month) and heard her crying and saying “Daddy, my baby’s dead”. God what a terrible thing to hear, what a terrible thing for her to be going through, what a helpless feeling while realizing how little I had to fill the hole in her life at that time. That still hurts when I re-hear her saying that even though it has been twenty-eight years ago.

Now she is a mother of two, and a grandmother of a little girl. She is no less-sensitive than she has ever been. She has not changed much from her Open-Honest approach to things and people although the wounds show if you look closely.

She has the ability of Astral Travel, communicate with spirits, and has visited Heaven with her son D__ on several occasions. She once told a recent widower co-worker that his wife had contacted her, taking T____ with her to go visit her husband and wanting him to know that she was alright. T____ told him of the visit and his wife’s wishes as she described his wife (who she had never seen), described the house, the entry, the interior (none of which she had ever seen), and him sitting in front of the fireplace playing the guitar. He thanked her, but was unable to handle talking with her anymore about it, and left the area.

Although she has grown from that three-year-old to a grandmother, she is still my little girl – we share a deep love that can readily be seen.
 
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After writing that last night, I realized that there was another incident that I wanted to share. The Winter of 2004, my wonderful sister, who was nine years older than me, died. We had recently gotten a new vehicle and I wanted a seat installed that made it easy for me to transfer from my wheelchair. I arranged for the work to be done in Columbus Ohio and we rented a ramp-equipped van for the trip to Northern Indiana for her funeral.

Three of us set off, me, my wife, and my daughter. A blizzard was forecast and we decided to drive back to Indianapolis after the funeral so that we only had to negotiate I-70 during the daytime in order to return the van on time. As it turned out, it took us sixteen hours to drive 175 miles. I enjoyed the trip because I was with the two most-loved people in my life. My daughter's husband however was very concerned about her safety as we made our way, mainly stopped, along with thousands of other travelers. Imagine this scene - my wheelchair is strapped down in the back of the van and I hear my daughter trying to console her husband on her cellphone saying "Ric__", like she is grabbing him by his ears and looking him in the eyes, then continuing "I'm with my DAD". How strange that seemed, her faith in my ability to protect her struck me in it's absurdity of the situation.

Of one thing I'm sure, we agreed to be there for each other in this lifetime.
 
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