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Vicki Monroe's SpiritBlog Archive January 31, 2007 I have read many people over the years, as a medium/spirit messenger/psychic it has been such a blessing and pleasure to bring piece of mind and aid to those who need to know through strong validations that their loved ones are indeed alive and well. I remember in 1987 I was living in Germany, my husband was in the Air Force and we were fortunate to live in that beautiful country. I was always close to my sister, Heather, she was my best friend. We were 11 months apart. She was born on Christmas day, and was indeed a beautiful girl and an amazing gift to our family. With five children my parents worked very hard, doing the best they could, I can recall my father's eyes when he would have to say "We can't afford to do that," hearing him crying in he and my mother's room. Heather, myself, and my little sister , Amy, trying not to break down ourselves. We never felt deprived, there was such an abundance of love in my house. We were actually rich in all the things that mattered. Not material, yet even in that, we always were neatly dressed and considered fashionable. Yet the haunting blue of my father's eyes, the eyes I carry, would always sadden me. I knew he hated his job and I wanted one day to help him leave it! and do what he wanted. Live in the country and raise his Irish Setters, and be close to the family. While in Germany, I had 2 small boys, and it was the first wedding anniversary of my oldest brother's marriage so they decided to come and visit. I was thrilled. Being a military family you don't make a lot of money, and just having family in my home was a thrill. It was strange that entire 3 months before my brother and his wife arrived I had visions in a mirror that had me mezmerized. I couldn't tell what was going to happen, but I would hear myself, my innerself saying, "You can deal with this death, as you have with others, it's your turn". I shrugged it off, everyone was well at home, all was smooth. My brother and his wife arrived in May and we all were having a wonderful time. The morning of their anniversary, I woke to the vision of my father's eyes. It was normal for me, but I had just spoken to the family and all was fine, this started a series of events that did not stop for 9 years. I got up, made the bed, started breakfast, and walked into the entryway to tell everyone it was time to eat. I was not alarmed but I had the uncanny scent of perfume filling my home, yet my sister in law and I were the only two that could smell it. Suddenly my husband runs to the bathroom and is violently ill. Before we could figure out where the perfume came from, the phone rings, it was my father. The sense of dread in my chest was so heavy I knew it was bad. "Heather and her husband had been killed just two hours prior." I immediately thought, that had to have been why I saw my father's eyes, how I felt that sadness of my youth for him. And I was feeling it again. Not for me, I knew Heather would be stopping by, and she does right until this day. But my dad had the hardest time understanding violent deaths. This one being a tragic car crash. However... and as sad as this story can seem, my father had left work for a time after my sisters passing, and on his first day back to work was rammed in the back of his brand new car. He walked away fine...or so we thought. That event then was followed by him not being able to stand that night, which in turn lead to a trip to the hospital because no one could move him do the pain in his back. That in turn lead to the diagnosis of multiple myaloma, the most severe and incurable bone cancer. He was given 8 months to live. At that point my husband and I knew we had to get home, hopefully transferred close to home. By a miracle, and yes they are out there, we were granted it. We lived a half hour away, my two little boys and one on the way, loved Papa and Nana, and within weeks we were building a house with an apartment over the garage that my mother and father lived in. They called it the "treehouse". Our horse in the backyard could be seen from their screened porch. It was a lovely and warm place. My dad remarkably became better and better, retiring, and living happy, playing basketball, coaching kids, and seeing his grandchildren. I recall him telling me one day, "If this is sick and dying, then it's the happiest time in my life." I remember his eyes that day, they were so happy, filled with joy. After 8 years of fulfilling happiness, my dad passed away, April 9th, 1994. I was the first to walk into the room as he slipped away, his eyes following me as he took his last breath. I took his hand, hearing my mom crying on the other side of the bed. I didn't cry, I looked overhead, seeing him in his Celtics jacket and sweats and sneakers, looking handsome, young and very alive. He smiled, those eyes bluer than I had ever seen them. I winked at him, and spoke in thought. "Okay, you're done, be happy, and go home." He waved and began to fade, the last thing I recall seeing... "The love in my father's eyes." In Light, Vicki This website and text copyright © 2007, 2008 Vicki Monroe. All rights reserved.

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