My Story - November 2003

This is the story of the most difficult time of our lives. May the telling of it bring hope to others and help me to heal.

11/22/03 Saturday

Then I dreamt that Phil had died. First my mother had died and then about a month later, Phil died. He actually died physically and his body was at the funeral home. There was no doubt that he was totally, completely dead. His funeral was going to be tomorrow and I was at a gathering at someone else’s house like you have when people die. I had been emotionally beginning to deal with his death, thinking that I was going to need to get a full-time job and thinking about how much I would miss him and how I would be alone. I was sitting on a sofa, thinking that he wouldn’t be there when I needed to talk to him and that I wouldn’t have him to lean on, and everyone was talking quietly.

And then he walked into the place where we were! He walked in and I knew it was him. He looked kind of sheepish, like he knew that nobody would believe what he was about to say. I said something like, “Is it really you?” and when he said yes, then I knew that God had raised him from the dead. I said something like, “God raised you from the dead!” and he said yes. I hugged him and cried for a long time. I completely, totally believed but the others, even though they were right there and could see him with their own eyes just like I could, didn’t embrace the truth right away. It didn’t matter to us, though.