My oldest daughter, Jean, died in a car accident several years ago. She was buried in a light blue gown, her long, curly brown hair laying gently over her shoulders.

My husband was very ill and dying with cancer. He had been sick for two years and was getting worse all the time. Finally he became bedridden, unable to get out of his bed or do anything for himself. We all knew it was just a matter of days or maybe weeks before he would leave us.

My youngest daughter was washing dishes one night while I sat in the livingroom reading. Everything was peaceful and quiet and nothing seemed out of the ordinary when for some reason I had the urge to suddenly look up and into the hallway. As there was no one else in the house at the time, except for my husband who was unable to get out of bed, there was no reason I should have taken just that moment to look into the hallway, but I did.

As I looked into the dimly lit hallway, I saw my beautiful daughter Jean standing there, just outside of her father’s bedroom where he lay sleeping. She was wearing the lovely light blue gown she had been buried in and her long dark hair was flowing gently over her shoulders. I saw her just as I would any living being—she was just as real. She gave me a sweet smile and turned , looking into her father’s room. I turned my head to tell my youngest daughter to look, quickly! But when I looked back into the hallway, Jean was gone. Jean’s father, my husband, died a few days later.

I felt she had come to lead her father into heaven and to comfort me. She had always been the strong one in the family and her presence was greatly missed. I know we still exist after death. After all, Jean came and told me so.