Our son committed suicide a few yeas ago, because of pain that the doctors said they couldn’t alleviate, and the ensuing inability to work and support himself as he was accustomed. But it was the unrelenting pain that got to him, and possibly the pain killers he was taking for the pain affecting his thought process.
He had us all fooled. He led us to believe that he was handling everything all right, and assured us that he would never take his own life. The fact is, he had been planning his death for months and lied to us about things making us believe that he was looking toward the future.
He arranged that I was the one who found his body. At first I thought it was to punish me for something, but after discussing it with the detective, I realized that he was simply protecting others, believing that he could trust me to handle the situation.
Our son lived next door to us with his two dogs. A few days after his death, as I walked his dogs, one of their retractable leashes broke. When we went back into his house, I attempted to repair the leash, but it couldn’t be fixed. I remembered that I had a spare leash in my car, and decided to get it out as I went back home. As usual I forgot. The car was parked outside, but I entered the side garage door, not even thinking about the leash in the car. I had only gotten half way across the garage, when the horn on my car outside blew once. There was no reason for the horn to blow. I wasn’t touching my pocket where the remote was. I wasn’t bending, that would have put pressure on my pocket and the remote. There was no reason for it to blow, yet I remembered immediately that I had forgotten to get the leash out of the car. It was so strange, that I wondered if my son had blown the horn in order to get my attention. But I decided that I was simply reaching for straws.
That night, I was outside, and I came in through the side garage door to go back into the house. It was pitch black in the garage as I entered, and I flipped the switch to turn the lights on. I had only taken a couple of steps, and the lights went out. I immediately stopped. Both cars were in the garage, and I had to be careful not to bump into them. Then the lights came on again. I took another step, and the lights went off. This time I had paid attention of what was in my path, and took one more step in the dark. I stopped, and the lights came on again. Again, I took another step, and the lights went off again. I took one more step in the dark and stopped. The lights came on again. This happened at least fifteen times and on every two steps, as I made my way through the garage to the utility room door. When I got to the utility room door, the lights came on and stayed on. I knew now that my son was sending me a message, telling me that he was safe and happy. He had always been a prankster, and turning the lights off and on as I tried to walk through the garage would have been something he would have enjoyed doing. I realized then that he was safe with God, and that his sense of humor and the love he had for me was still intact. I turned to the empty garage and said, “Thank you son. That was a good one, and the message that I was waiting for. I love you.”
I don’t believe that people return after death, but I do believe that the angels will deliver a message if they’re asked to. I’ve never seen an angel, but now I know that I’ve been in their presence.