I mentioned in my last post “I start a business continued” that in 2009 my father died…I’m going to elaborate a little more on that experience here.

In May 2009 my father died or should I say he transitioned.

The phone call came about 8am that Sunday morning. I was met by my brother who lives in the US’s agitated voice on the other end of the line and honestly, I had no idea of what he was about to tell me.

“Where were you yesterday Jacq? I was trying to call you all day!” He said, sounding upset.

“I was out!” I replied.  “I went to a friends birthday party—what’s the problem?” I asked, returning his impatience.

“I’ve got some bad news to tell you,” My brother said, softening his tone.

Even though I knew my dad was ill… he had been suffering with heart and prostrate difficulties for a few years…. it was beyond me to think about him dying. The death of such a close relative wasn’t something I’ve had to deal with before so, somehow the possibility of my dad’s death was the furthest thing from my mind.

“Jacq, the old man passed away yesterday” my brother announced clearly controlling his tone.

As my brother’s words registered in my brain, in an almost automatic response, my eyes filled with tears. The fat drops silently wetted my cheeks, then ran down my neck.

I was both shocked and surprised—there’s such finality about death isn’t there?

I sat quietly for a moment trying to make sense of what my brother just told me. Then my mind took me back to the last time I spoke to my dad…it was maybe a month since.

In that last conversation, my dad’s voice had been quite thin and raspy… almost a whisper really, but we had laughed and joked as normal, so there was no reason for me to think my dad’s condition was critical.

However, I do recall being disappointed a couple of weeks later when I called the house again, because I wasn’t able to speak to him. My step-mum said something about being in a hurry because she’d left my dad in the bathroom and had to check on him.

I remember those words not sitting right with me somehow.

If my dad was well, why couldn’t she leave him in the bathroom? I felt a fleeting sense of worry about the state of dad’s health after that call, but well the feeling was fleeting so I did nothing about it.

My brother’s voice brought me back to the present moment.

“We’ll have to all get together to talk about the funeral arrangements,” He said.

He advised me to contact my older sister to see what the funeral plans would be. Then he said, “Of course the two of us will have to fly back for the funeral Jacq”

Ending our conversation, I gently replaced the receiver, then sat in bed thinking—thinking about booking a flight home, about what my role in the arrangements would be, about what the funeral day would look like and most of all, about the fact that my dad had died.

My sadness overwhelmed me and I started crying again.

But then I suddenly had a thought—for the four years I’d lived in Shanghai, I’d been trying to get my dad to visit me. The problem was, my dad had a life long fear of flying, so the thought of the 12 hour flight from London to Shanghai was way too much for him…So, he never came.

As I sat in bed thinking…I knew the limitations and fears my dad had  in his waking life wouldn’t apply, now he was in spirit.

So jokingly, I said out loud “Dad now you’re not in your body anymore you can come to see me in Shanghai can’t you?”

It may sound strange to some of you reading this, but it was as if my dad heard me because in that instant I felt the energy around me move…and in my minds eye I saw my dad—literally flying through the air on his way to Shanghai…well that’s the best way to describe it to you all.

A moment later he arrived and gently sat at the end of my bed.

I couldn’t see him with my physical eyes, but I could perceive him. I perceived him with what many can call the 6^th sense or third eye.

My dad sat there calmly smiling at me.

His face looked exactly as it did when he was alive and he was dressed exactly as he always was in his waking life…in a 3-piece pinstriped suit with a white shirt and tie.

He looked smart, healthy and happy, not at all like someone dead!

It’s funny thinking back to that time, because it didn’t feel strange or weird to have my dad’s spirit sitting there with me, on the contrary—it felt perfectly natural.

I had no fear at all

But in truth this was not my first encounter with spirit, I had had previous experiences in the past…. maybe I’ll share more about those experiences with you all in future posts…

But for now…coming back to this post

I sat in bed smiling back at my dad…there was a definite shyness about him—almost as if it felt strange for him to be there with me…but he emanated so much warmth and love for me.

I started speaking to him, telling him my plans for the day…. I was scheduled to meet some friends for brunch and I wondered if would it be a better idea to cancel it…

“No, don’t cancel it,” my dad said “ Go out and have fun,” He added

I heard my dad as clearly as I heard the birds singing outside.

That was settled then! I got showered, dressed and went to meet my friends in Taikang Lu.

During the whole brunch, I didn’t say a word about my dad’s death.

It felt somehow disrespectful that I should be out laughing and joking with my friends, knowing my dad had just died, so I simply kept quiet about it.

The next morning, as I dressed myself for work I wondered if my dad was still with me, so I asked out loud “Dad are you still here?

Suddenly, there was a crash so loud in my kitchen that was both alarming and scary, like someone had slammed all my pots and pans on the floor.  

“What the hell…?” I said running into my kitchen.

When I got there, I saw everything was just as I ‘d left it the night before, perfectly clean and tidy.

I immediately understood it was my dad that had caused the ruckus, so looking up to the ceiling and laughing, I said

“Ok dad, so you are still here!”

I finished getting dressed and left for work with my dad in tow.

The 20-minute walk to work was more interesting than usual that morning.  

I lived in Hongkou, one of the last districts in Shanghai to undergo the massive citywide re-development program. In 2009, Hongkou was still very much a local district with many dilapidated small businesses and restaurants, owned and run by the local people who lived there.

The neighbourhood had a ramshakled charm that was reminiscent of   the way life used to be lived in the days of old Shanghai.

During the fresh spring days or the sultry summer nights, life was lived outdoors.

The pavements and streets bustled with people living out their daily lives in perfect symbiosis with one another. Barbers set up their cutting shops on the street—cutting people’s hair or giving them clean shaves.

Seamstresses with their antique Singer sewing machines sewed or altered clothes on the pavements. Children and adults alike took their baths in large plastic basins, while others brushed their teeth in their y-fronts…all on the street—There was literally nothing that couldn’t be done outside and of course all sorts of things were bought, sold or exchanged.

This really was street life in its rawness and I loved the energy and community vibe it had.

And although I’d walked the same route to and from work everyday for the last 5 months, still, day after day I caused a stir.

Everyday the same people would come running out of their houses or call their neighbours to come out to see me walk past because I was the only black person in the neighbourhood.

I felt a mixture of seeing the funny side and of being totally tired of being the constant object of curiosity.

But that morning, I walked confidently past these people, not caring who was staring, because I had my dad walking beside me.

Speaking to him through my mind, I explained the culture to him. My dad was fascinated by how much it all reminded him of life in Ghana.

As we passed people staring, I would tell my dad what they were about to do…then we would both laugh when they did exactly as predicted.

When we got to my office I heard my dad say “Wow Jacq” Then he marched straight to big window at the far end of the office and stood looking out at the fury of activity happening below.

My office was in an old warehouse building, with many other creative businesses. I had an industrial style; light, bright, airy space with exposed ceilings on the 4^th floor.

Our building was in the middle of a stationary market famous for selling everything you can think of for businesses. It was amazing, incredibly cheap and so convenient. We had bought all our office equipment and stationary there.

I left my dad enjoying the views outside, while I broke the news of his death to my staff— But I didn’t dare tell them my dad had was with me the office.