I originally posted this blog April 28, 2010. After a transition in my website hosting, it was lost. I was very upset as I had poured so much of my raw emotion into it. Fortunately, my boyfriends mother likes printing off copies of my blog so low and behold, she had a copy of this one! It's taken me several weeks to re-type it as I'm still moving through some intense levels of grief surrounding my fathers passing. But today was the day, so here it is:

My father passed away April 5^th of stomach cancer that had metastasized and spread throughout his vital organs. He was only 69 years old; if we had to place our bets on whom the first one in our family to die would be, none of us would have bet on Dad. He always seemed to be the model of health; he was the most active and athletic, never over-ate, and outwardly seemed to care for himself better than the rest of us. He’d had some health issues with his kidneys in the past so we knew that he had some things that needed attending to, but we were all floored when we finally found out 6 months ago that he had full-blown cancer.

He fought the good fight and did his best; he was walking 2 miles a day up to 2 weeks before he passed! Dad wasn’t ready to go and it’s hard to believe that he’s gone; it doesn’t feel real. All I feel is numb. Empty. It doesn’t seem right to be in a world that doesn’t have him in it. I feel so… lost.

A lot of people think that because I’m a spiritual medium, I’m exempt from these feelings because I can still see him, speak with him, and connect to him, right? Let me set the record straight and clearly say that I am not exempt from grief when a loved one passes. I am experiencing the loss of my father in a very real way. It hurts. It’s painful. And I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am lucky in that I was given 6 months to say goodbye; my father and I have no unfinished business and no loose ends. We both knew how much we meant to each other and there were no questions regarding our bond or shared love and respect for each other. And yes, I have seen him since he passed. I saw him at his funeral and I saw him standing in the kitchen just the other night. He has given me signs and let me know without a doubt that his presence remains near to us. I knew in January that he was going to pass away in April and I was also shown in dreams what he would look like on the other side (young, strong, vibrant, healthy) weeks before he left. Two nights before he died, I saw angels come into the room and watched as they washed and anointed him in a bath of Light to prepare him for Transition. I knew he was leaving. I had time to say goodbye and I know some things (not everything) about where he’s at now.

Don’t get me wrong, all of these things have been very comforting and I feel so blessed to have the ability to perceive the other side but none of these things replace the fact that I can no longer hug my Daddy. I don’t hear his voice filling the house as it used to. I’ll never again hear the garage door opening and know that he’s home from golf or his workout at the YMCA. Regardless of how you experience your loved one after they’ve crossed over, there is never a substitute for their physical presence. It makes no difference whether or not you can recognize their spiritual presence because it’s just not the same.

But love does go on. The love we shared and have for each other has not been diminished in the least by his death. His lessons, legacy, and love live on in my heart. Our love, lessons, and legacies are the best parts of us. To die means to impart those things completely while letting go of any earthly thing, including our bodies, that blotted those essential parts out. The best of my father remains and I know he is in a good place. Yes it hurts but the hurt isn’t all there is. The love and lessons balance the pain and I move forward confidently knowing that my Dad is still my guiding light.

I wrote a eulogy for him that I read at his funeral. Dad was involved in the Toastmasters (a public speaking club-of-sorts) for years and always looked forward to the day I would also become a public speaker. His funeral service was my introduction to this aspect of my future career and I must say, I elocuted it beautifully (thanks, Dad). He was very proud and the following is the eulogy I wrote and read:  

Good Evening, thank you for being here to celebrate and honor the life of my father, Mike Moynihan.

I sat down to write this eulogy and surprisingly, drew a blank. It’s my opinion that there aren’t enough good words to say about my father that would do him justice. But how could I communicate these things without creating a congregation full of bores, snores and fanny sores.

So I mentally asked him, “Where do I start, Dad? How do I let others know how much you meant? You did so much good; you worked so hard to provide those you loved with a comfortable place to thrive and you offered your time to help build places where others could survive. You gave freely of yourself in service to God, Country, Family, and your Fellow Man. You lived well, loved hard, and worked honestly. You were more than a little stubborn at times but made no apologies for who you are and you stood up for your beliefs. And while you may not have been known for your patience (I can hear those fingers snapping now), your honesty, integrity, humor, compassion, loyalty, and deep capacity to love put you in a league of your own. You set a fine example of how to be a good human, Dad. How can I truly get this across to these fine people so that they really know these things about you?”

“Keep it simple,” his voice returned.

Dad was a man who most savored vanilla ice cream and unbuttered popcorn; simplicity was the name of his game.  But don’t let that fool you; Mike Moynihan was simple but in a very profound way. Dad was an honest, compassionate, and hard-working man. He was spiritual, faithful, and dutiful yet incredibly playful and vibrant. He was also educated, intelligent, and well-read but never egotistical or lofty about it; on the contrary, my father was very unassuming and went out of his way to make others feel valued no matter their station in life. He loved his family, his golf, his cat, and his books. He liked to keep up on current events and watched Book TV every weekend to hear what others had to say.

Diligent, tenacious, and persevering, Mike Moynihan knew how to go the distance. Aside from being an avid golfer, he was a tremendous competitive athlete and played in racquetball tournaments for many years. You could also find him working out at the YMCA several evenings a week. He was very disciplined: physically, mentally, and spiritually, which is something I find admirable. He also had great passion that occasionally made him a little hot-headed! But that was just another part of who he was and to truly know my Dad was to love and respect all parts of him.     

His wit and vigor were only surpassed by his stellar sense of humor. He loved to make people laugh; ask any of his children or grandchildren and they’ll regale you with stories of his funny pirate faces or tell you about how he seized every opportunity to hide behind a corner and wait for the unsuspecting passerby. He would then reach out and grab your arm while growling, grunting or groaning like a monster from the movies, which he also enjoyed with equal enthusiasm.

If you met Mike for the first time, he would look you in the eye, firmly shake your hand, and introduce himself by his first and last name, “Mike Moynihan.” and then ask, “How are you?” He didn’t do this just to be polite; he wanted everyone he met to feel acknowledged and respected for who they were. He wanted you to know that you were seen and heard by him. He was just that kind of guy. 

I don’t like talking about my father in the past tense because I feel his love, lessons, and legacy all around in a very present, living way. The relevance of how Mike conducted himself throughout his Life is timeless. He believed in me at times when it felt the rest of the world didn’t and he always made sure that I knew he was proud of me. I will NEVER let that go.

If I could sum up Dad’s message to those still working their way through the business of Life, I would surmise it this way:

“Honor others while respecting yourself. Challenge yourself & aspire to your personal best in every undertaking. Study yourself & take the time to learn about others. Remember that your health is your first million and there are some things money can’t buy. Have faith, have heart, and be courageous. Hug the ones you love a little tighter. Be consistent, have an adventure everyday and above all else, keep it simple.”