Horrifying Incident

There have been uncountable incidents throughout my life which defy explanation. Things like, knowing that the phone will ring, and who will be on the other end before it happens. Or, sensing a happening, and going on the record with it; for instance, I often would predict happenings to the Dickhead only to see them come to fruition soon after. He, to this day, still calls me a witch because of it.

One incident which totally freaked me out was what happened to me when my dad died. To understand the whole scenario, you have to understand that my dad was NOT a nice person. In fact, he was a BAD person. I won't go into the laundry list here,(well... not in this post at least) but suffice to say, he created some badass karma in this here life of his.

Anyway, he was diagnosed with lung cancer on January 1, 1993. They determined that he was terminal, and sent him home. My stepmother and I proceeded to man the "deathwatch." We were there with him around the clock which was no small feat because he was also dealing with active Tuberculosis, which he had apparently be exposed to sometime during his life, but it had remained inactive ... the cancer activated it ... or so they told us. Anyway, it was an awful, AWFUL thing he went through. He lasted 13 days at home. January 13, 1993.

I had just finished shaving him, and was going about putting the shaving stuff away when he started with the Stoker's breathing. He had been non-responsive for the past day and a half and we were just doing our best to make him comfortable.

When I noticed his breathing, I knew that his time was very, very short so I just stood by his bed talking to him so he'd know he wasn't alone. He'd take one hacking breath, and then nothing, and then another hacking breath, and then nothing. Each time I thought that breath was his last, and then suddenly he'd take another. This went on for about an hour.

Well, he took one of those breaths, and as he did his eyes suddenly flew open WIDE. He look right past me; almost through me, and there was this hideous look of recognition on his face. I could see that he was completely cognizant, his eyes told me so. The look of pure fear on his face is something I will never EVER forget as long as I live. As I was waiting for his exhale, I turned around to try to see what he was looking at. I swear to you, I saw the most horrifying sight. To this day, I swear to God in heaven, that I saw Satan... and if it wasn't Satan, it was one of his minions. My father saw his fate, and he realized it too.

Finally, the last exhale came. The best way I can explain what I saw and felt is this: As his last breath was exhaled, a gush of putrid smelling blackness whirred past me INTO his mouth. It was palpable, it was smellable, it was utterly evil.

He died with that look of bone-chilling fear upon his face, his eyes as big as saucers, his mouth open in the shape of an "O." His body convulsed once, and then it was over.

When the undertaker came to get him, he tried to get his eyes and mouth closed, but could not. There hadn't been enough time lapsed for rigor mortis to have set in, but his face was locked that way.

I had nightmares about that for years, and in fact, sometimes I still do.