Just Beyond the Veil

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“Death is just a door that only love can come and go through.” T.L. Moffitt

Last week when I was walking in to Costco, the man in front of me turned and for an instant I was sure it was my dad. Next to me, Miss O was startled by the unexpected break in my fast stride and turned to look at me. I put my hand on my heart and said, “that man looks just like Bumpa.” Wide-eyed, she nodded – she’s only seen pictures but she recognized him too.

Then later last week, I was doing a technical training at the church that my dad used to be senior pastor of and was surprised by someone in the audience who asked me to say a few words about him. It wasn’t my prepared topic but since my dad is one of my favorite subjects, it was fairly easy to ramble on about him as a few errant tears rolled down my cheek.

All of this to say, my dad feels very near in recent days. He would talk about this phenomenon as someone being “just beyond the veil.” The way I’ve come to see it, I don’t exactly where he is but somehow he comes near, and then I feel the brush of his touch.

I know I’m not alone in this as I’ve heard so many great stories that give me that spine tingle of mystical knowing. Someone who picks up their voice mail and there’s an old message from a departed loved one. Or someone thinking of their loved one who has passed, and they cross paths with their loved one’s favorite animal in a completely unexpected place. Or a gift that arrives just after praying to our dearly departeds for help.

Why do I think my dad is near right now? He didn’t often tell me what to do when he was alive so I doubt he’s doing it now. I think he’s sending his love — a love that’s even more meaningful to me because we did the work to make our relationship closer in the years before his death. So that even though he died unexpectedly, he still left me with words that mean so much to me. That is what my post on W&S is this morning: Writing Last Lines That Count

(Featured photo is from my book about my dear dad, Finding My Father’s Faith.)

36 thoughts on “Just Beyond the Veil”

  1. I have seen both living and dead doppelgangers, and heard a few others who encountered my likeness elsewhere. It is remarkable, for sure. Likeness or not, he remains in your heart. How much you must have loved him, Wynne.

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    1. I think that it’s true, it’s a sign of how much you loved him. My father told me that even decades after his father passed away, he would sometimes “see” him walking down the street, just for a moment before it was clear it was just a vague resemblance. But the memory stayed with him. It’s good to keep the memories of loved ones alive!

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      1. Ah, what a sweet remembrance from your father. It’s interesting to me that there are times he feels closer than others and I love those little touches. 🙂 Thanks, EW!

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  2. Signs from just beyond the veil. Love being the only bridge between here and there. What a beautiful visual. It still gives me chills to think of your father and daughter crossing paths as they navigated from one world to the other. It seems meaningful that she was with you when you saw your dad’s lookalike.

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    1. Ah, Erin, you are so good at picking up those things. Yes, it was meaningful that Miss O was with me when she saw my father because it prompted me to tell her some stories about him. Her middle name was also his middle name so it gives her a beautiful sense of legacy! 🙂 ❤

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  3. You know how much I love this…the nearness of him and then catching a glimpse — you and Miss O both? Some things don’t require explanations…just a wholehearted embrace of him, his memory, the goodness that resonates within…both for you and dear Miss O and Mr. D. 🥰🥰🥰

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  6. Love this post and that you have so many reminders of your dad and his presence around you. As a reader, I can feel the impact he’s had on you through so much of your writing☀️

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  7. My father (who is still living) has a pretty generic old man look to him and he *always* wears a baseball cap. I think I see him all the time. I’ve never really thought about what that will be like after he dies (he’s 92). Your post is pretty much the antithesis of one I worked on over the past couple of days. As a non-Christian I miss out on many of the comforts belief in an afterlife provides.

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    1. How interesting that you see your dad all the time, Jeff. You’re right that theology provides some comfort – but it feels to me from my experience with my dad that it’s something else that sticks with us too. Maybe it’s just sentimentality but there’s something unexplainable and comforting– at least for me. Hopefully it will be for you too when the times comes with your dad.

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  8. I had a similar experience yesterday, I did a double take and must have looked rude when I stared at an old man who strongly resembled my second ex-husband who died a few years ago while in a Dementia facility. Those doppelgangers can be a little unnerving at times. I would definitely welcome seeing my dad’s presence, and hope he will visit in spirit at my daughter’s wedding in the Fall.

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  10. How delightful to have a sense of your dad’s presence at a Costco store, instead of out in nature or at home on a quiet afternoon. Indeed, he has not lost his sense of humor! Thanks for sharing this personal encounter and all of his Sunday humor cards!

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  12. I’m really behind in my WordPress reading. What a pleasure to find your post Wynne. Wow . . . “Just beyond the veil,” “brush of his touch,” “He still left me with words that mean so much to me.” Love the loving way you described these feelings. Very touching. I have to keep your blog in mind. I’m working on a piece on the topics I would like to have with my dad, if he were still alive. And it is a strange feeling when you feel that brush against you. Nice, but it definitely catches you off-guard. Thanks for putting words to it.

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    1. Brian, that sounds like an amazing piece you are working on. And thank you so much for your very kind words about my post. You’re right – that brush is nice but catches you off-guard. Yes! Thanks, my friend!

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  13. Wow, that moment in Costco must have been something else Wynne. I can see how that made just pause.

    Your dad feels always close from your writings shared over the years and I love your reflection about last lines. You’re right, we often don’t get a chance to know when or how, but it is an interesting exercise to think about.

    For me, it’s a reminder to often tell our loved ones that we love them and to spend time and appreciate each other while we can.

    PS. That photo of you two is beyond adorable!

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    1. Have you ever been to Zamboanga? That’s where that picture is taken – although well before you were born… 🙂

      I love how you spend that special time with T every day as your post from today memorializes. As you know with your sister, it’s so hard to lose people but it seems to me so much more peaceful when they know we love them and are loved by them!! ❤ ❤ ❤

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      1. I have not heard of Zamboanga before. I’ll have to look it up! And I absolutely agree that peace comes grief when we know the love that existed and that lives on in our hearts.

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  15. I love hearing stories like this, and while it’s not my intention at all to suggest a cat is as important as a parent, I sometimes feel that Sydney is very near the veil, too. That gives me comfort.

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