Alway’s a Daddy’s Girl

I’ve never experienced a paranormal event that I could swear with 100% certainty was real. The two most compelling events that I experienced that come to mind now were convincing enough for me, but not something that would sway the mind of a skeptic.

This first event happened in 2001. My father had passed years earlier in 1992.

In a funny side note, my dad used to joke with me every time he saw me with a new ghost book, that when he died he would come back and visit me. Every time he said that, I would say “No, thanks!”. After years of this running joke, he finally got his feelings hurt and asked me, if I was so interested in ghosts, why wouldn’t I want my own father to come to visit me after he passed? I could see that he was truly upset, so I explained to him truthfully that I was fascinated with ghosts, yes, but they still scared me and I didn’t want to be scared of my own father! All the hurt left his face and he promised me that he wouldn’t come and haunt me. 🙂

Anyway, back to the story. When my dad retired, we moved to Florida and my parents bought a townhouse. As mentioned, my dad passed away in 1992. In 1995 my mother went to live with one of my (6) brothers and his family, and I moved into my parents’ townhouse to take care of it and pay the taxes and upkeep so my family wouldn’t have to sell it. I always had either my (soon ex) husband, a sibling or a friend living with me there. But in 2001 I was living there alone. It was a secure, gated community, so I didn’t have any issue with that.

I used to visit my father’s grave several times a year, when I lived at the townhouse. It was only a half hour away, so I used to go there and talk to my dad and bring a fresh plant to leave by his headstone. On one weekend visit, I was explaining to my dad who John Edward (the psychic-medium) was. I had been watching the show Crossing Over a lot recently and my sister and I were trying to get tickets to be part of the audience for one of his shows in NY, but it was hard to get them, as the show was extremely popular at the time. So as I explained to my dad who John Edward was, I told him if he had the ability to pull any strings up there where he was, my sister and I would really appreciate getting help with getting the tickets to see the show. (Shameless, I know. My father safely behind the veil for almost a decade and his daughter STILL asking for favors!)

The following evening, my boyfriend was over and we were taking turns entering our names into various internet searches to see if anything came up on us, or any of our relatives or ancestors. We were engaged in this activity for some time when my boyfriend asked me to go on eBay and do a search for his family name to see if anything was listed. So I went to eBay, but instead of entering my boyfriend’s name, I spontaneously entered “John Edward”. I hadn’t even been thinking about him until then, but I entered the name and up came LOCAL results! Apparently there was going to be a John Edward seminar in Tampa in just a month or two, and people were selling the tickets on eBay! Until then, I hadn’t even known that John Edward traveled and did seminars! So I got all excited and entered bids in for several groups of tickets. My max bid was $350, because that was all I could afford to be parted with. But no matter what number of tickets I bid on, whether it was for four tickets or just a pair, I got outbid in a matter of seconds. The bids on some tickets were up to $600! I couldn’t afford to spend more than $350, so I logged off bitterly.
The next morning, at work, I checked my personal e-mail and there was a message from eBay saying that (back then) it was against Florida law to sell tickets for more than the face value, so all the John Edward ticket auctions had been restarted, and it was up to the sellers to decide if they still wanted to continue their auctions. I flew back to eBay and sure enough, all the bids that I had placed for the tickets the evening before had been erased from my bidding history, and the tickets were listed with zero bids! Immediately, I placed a bid for the four tickets that I had wanted, and sent a message to the seller to ask them if they were going to still offer the tickets, or end the auction. The seller responded later that day that she would still sell them at face value and since I was the first bidder to meet the face value price, that I would be the winner of the auction, regardless of whether anyone else placed other bids. I arranged through PayPal to pay for the tickets that same day.

I was amazed! Just two days before I had asked my dad to help me get tickets to the John Edward show in New York City, and forty-eight hours later, I had tickets to one of his seminars that I didn’t even know existed! And in the town right next to mine! It struck me that my dad had gotten to work on my request right away! I called my sister and told her the story and she too was convinced that my dad had a hand in procuring the tickets.

On the way home from work late that afternoon, I started talking to my dad, thanking him for his amazing help in getting me the tickets. But I explained to him that it seemed to good to be true…and I wasn’t positive that I wasn’t kidding myself and it was all just a big coincidence. I asked my dad to give me a sign, if it had been him that “got” the tickets for me.

I lived just a ten minute drive from my office. When I walked into the townhouse, I was a bit hesitant, because I had just told my dad to “give me a sign” and now I was going to an empty house to spend the night alone. I opened the door and the only thing waiting for me was my miniature dachshund with a full bladder. I trussed him up in his harness and took him for a walk down the block, mentally rolling my eyes at myself for being so apprehensive. I remember thinking to myself, “What did you expect to see? Daddy standing in the living room holding up a sign that says ‘The tickets are from me!’???”

Coming back from walking Acorn, it suddenly hit me that the whole day had passed and I didn’t tell my friend, Jennifer, that I got John Edward tickets. Jennifer was a huge fan of the show, and in fact she had been the one to introduce me and my sister to the show.

I unleashed the dog, walked over the phone, which was on an end table in the living room, and dialed Jenn’s number. As the phone was ringing, the banging started.

The banging was coming from the opposite side of the living room. Basically the first floor of the townhouse was a pretty big square, the front part of the square being a half bath, foyer, kitchen and dining area and the back half was just a huge living room. It was an open floorplan, so other than the bathroom, all the rooms were open to each other. I stood there, with the phone to my ear, staring at the area that the banging noise was coming from. It was coming from a corner where a second sofa was, along with an odd kind of end table, which had a six sided cabinet as a base.

Jenn answered the phone, but I was distracted by the banging noise. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her I was alone in the house and there were noises coming from the corner of the room and it was freaking me out. As soon as I said it was freaking me out, the noises stopped. I told Jennifer the whole story about getting the tickets, and towards the end of the story, I told her that I had asked my dad to give me a sign that it was him getting me the tickets. As soon as I said that, the banging noise started up again! Jenn, who could hear the noise over the phone and she said now this was freaking HER out! I said out loud, “Okay, Dad, I know it’s you!” and the noises stopped and didn’t resume again.

After I got off the phone, I sat there for a while, trying to rationalize what happened and wondering if maybe my neighbor had been banging on the wall…maybe hanging a picture…but the last time I had been in the neighboring townhouse, there was a large entertainment center on that wall. Plus, the starts and stops of the banging perfectly coincided with the words I spoke.

Finally, after sitting there for a long time, I got up and tentatively walked over the little cabinet table that was in the corner. I started to examine it, and opening it up I found, atop of the other detritus that accumulates after years in the same house, neatly folded and in a plastic triangular sleeve, the American flag that had been presented by the V.A. to my mother at my father’s funeral.

And that was the last piece of convincing that I needed.


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