It’s nightfall at the moment when I finish my work and get in my car. I talk to my dad in my mind. As I head home, I review the day’s summary in my mind…

“Sweety?

Yes, Dad?”

I’m struggling now.”

I know. You need to regenerate your insides. You can do this!”

It’s nightfall at the moment when I finish my work and get in my car. I talk to my dad in my mind. As I head home, I review the day’s summary in my mind. Earlier, as the evening approached, someone asked me where I came from. I replied, “My father is a Macedonian immigrant from the former Yugoslavia. We originated from Albania.” This person then paid me a compliment by saying, “I’ve heard about migrants being so beautiful.” Normally I would have just taken this compliment for what it was, but instead I answered in a strange way: “Yes, my dad is very beautiful.”

I return home tired from the day, so I lie down on the couch for a rest. I nearly fall asleep when a momentary a riot of colors is displayed to me. I get up with a start. A color was missing. Among all those colors, blue was missing… Why was blue missing?

The Second Startle

Just as I ponder why blue was missing, I am startled again, this time by the telephone ringing. It is my big sister, and her voice is quivering. I understand at that moment. My dad is in an ambulance and on his way to hospital.

I leave home in a hurry. In my mind, there’s just a voice saying, “You need to regenerate your insides.” I better understand its meaning at the moment. There will be a regeneration, that’s for sure, but my dad will decide on what kind of regeneration will take place.

When I arrive at the hospital, the doctors say there is an embolism in his brain stem, and he’s had a stroke on his left side. He is in very bad shape indeed. I hold his hands and tell him, “The time to regenerate your insides is now, dad.” He continues to stare at me. Both of us know what this means. I sense that he wants to end his journey, but because of the traumatic, misty-eyed, sensual situation at that moment, I suppose this may change. “Regenerate and stand up, but not now dad,” I say.

As I raise my head up, I see the number six. When I look back, we catch each other’s eyes again. My dad is speaking to me through symbols. Based on my knowledge of Islamic Sufism, six is the number of becoming perfect and reaching mastery. It is then time to celebrate this mastery and experience a multidimensional state. My dad will be complete. I then suddenly feel woozy, like I’ve been drinking. Would I have any role to play? By celebrating his mastery, would I accompany him during his journey to a new reality, a new dimension? I am someone who helps many beings to pass over, but would I be happy to facilitate my own father’s passing over? I’d never thought about it before, yet my dad was calling on me for this.

My Dad and I Put Our Spiritual Plan into Action!

The examination and observation period lasts for about 12 hours. They tell us they will now move him to a normal room. They also tell us that we can go in when he feels ready and keep him company for the rest of the time. They will carefully observe his situation, and move him back to the intensive care unit if they feel it’s necessary. We need to wait, but how long will this waiting last? His assignment on Earth continues for as long as he breathes. While I was considering all this, they tell us that we can go up to him.

I am once again standing by him, our glances interlocked. This time I consciously raise my head up to see what I already know. The bed is numbered nine. My father is being completed, and the spiritual plan is being put into action. Before the number ten comes the number nine, the completion number before the regeneration. Our communication with symbols continues.

I am reminded at one point that I need to rest. His hand has been in mine for hours, but I try to sleep. In my dream, I am in my dad’s home, which has been completely renovated. The parquet floor has been taken up and completely renewed. A new kitchen has replaced the old one. The old family home was surely showing a radical transformation…

When I open my eyes, I break into tears, but I need to be strong. This is not the time for crying. My dad has decided to leave, and I need to inform the others about his decision. I at least need to prepare them for our beloved father’s passing over, yet I cannot overcome my crying. I touch my cheeks at that moment, and I feel compassion in my heart. I let all kinds of emotions rise and fall within me. Oh, how this crying was refreshing me…

I’m feeling much better now. In trying to appear strong, I was deluding myself. Now, I was communicating with my dad deep down. The spiritual plan was unfolding now. I had no doubt about it. From now on, we would prepare together for his passing over. More and more of his consciousness was being lost, but I knew he would remember his spiritual plan and easily pass over by reaching out to the awareness within, because he was a marvelous spirit playing the role of my father…

He Is Taken Back to Intensive Care!

I am once more at my father’s bedside, and he is having difficulty breathing. I call the doctors. They decide he needs to go back to intensive care, but since their own is full, they arrange to transfer him to another hospital. While they prepare, the family gathers in the car with my mom. It’s time to speak. I think about how to broach the subject without upsetting her. She was his other half for 51 years, and they still love each other so much. How could I say that he was about to pass over? I look at her face and conclude that she could not bear it, so I give up. The best I can do is hold her hands.

I tailgate the ambulance to the other hospital. It’s four in the morning when we arrive. The hospital looks familiar, but I cannot quite place it. It’s trying to say something to me, but I’m so exhausted I cannot understand the significance. Just as I get out of the car, I see the hospital is an intense blue color. Without hesitation, I turn to my mom.

I say to her, “Mom, he will be freed here. Blue signifies being freed. Don’t worry—everything will be perfect.”

Become Free and Go into the Light!

It’s been a long night. Time hangs heavy, as if each new minute is increasingly challenging. I am unable to call anyone to relieve the pressure on me. Thankfully, though, I fall asleep.

A voice inside me provides all the details of this process. The voice says that if my father passes over of his own free will, it is the most significant thing we should have respect for. How powerful is that free will? What sort of an experience is it to decide to leave your body here and pass over to other dimensions, even if your unconscious but making the decision consciously? Well, if the immediate family of my father needed to decide to let him pass over of his own free will, how could we make sense of the situation? In particular, how could my mom be expected to let go of her husband of 51 years? It was time to gain some control over the situation. I should bring the family together and explain the situation to them, but first I should get permission from my father, who was currently unconscious.

Today, it’s my turn to visit pop. I am one of four sisters, but the others are not so motivated to see him. It’s like the time when I was nine years old. I could not build up the courage to see him after his first stroke. It’s as if he is giving me another opportunity to face it. The suffering little girl from then has grown up now, and she has the spirit to hold her dad’s hand and guide him across. To perform this act is my last duty for him. I quietly approach him in a highly sterilized state. The nurse in the room tells me that my father is not responding to any commands, so I shouldn’t stay with him too long. Without paying attention to either her or the life-support machines he’s hooked up to, I hold my dad’s hand. The nurse lingers in the room. I have no thought of spending my five minutes talking with her, but it seems she needs to stay with us, so I start talking to my dad.

I say, “Dad, I want you to go into the light. Do you hear me? I am here, and I am together with you. Do you hear me, daddy? If you can hear me, press my hand?”

“He can’t answer you,” the nurse reminds me. I keep quiet but talk with my mind instead. I invite my dad to join a ritual that I could call a passing over ceremony.

My dad opens his eyes and looks at me, and we catch each other’s glance. At that moment, I smile inside, because my dad has decided to embrace the moment of the immortality of death. He presses my hand and closes his eyes again.

I continue to stand by him in silence. The nurse has already seen what she should have seen, and in my opinion, life has given her a chance to witness a unique heavenly moment…

I then have time to clearly tell my mom and sisters about the situation, so I do so. I need to bring them into this process, so we can together take my dad into the light. My mom gives the most beautiful response.

“When I bid him farewell, he was wearing the blue suit from his 30s,” she said with tears. She added, “He was smiling.” We all hug her… We were all at ease… We were all happy… Was there feeling of sorrow? Of course there was, but this was an outstanding soul who had played the role of being our father and contributed to society with his very important services. It was natural that we missed not being able to see him in his body anymore.

It all happened as could have been expected, dear readers. That noble soul was freed from his body and went into the light after our practice.

As he passed over, my father left a worthy mark behind him. That day, a rope of the Haliç Bridge was broken, and traffic was considerably limited as a result. It’s as if he was freed from the remnants of his paralysis, causing his own life rope to break. Just as his conduct would not hinder anything in his life, during his funeral we could not accept neither rope breaking nor the traffic stopping…

I remembered the words of Yogi Bhajan at that moment, which I’d heard years ago: “There is no free freedom.” Yet my heart and feelings were telling me the total opposite. The feeling of freedom had never been so appropriate. My dad was in fact starting to taste the real life now…