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The Vision Of Padre Pio

The Vision Of Padre Pio And Of My Daughter Who Committed Suicide

 

The Vision Of Padre Pio

 

It was Friday 22nd September 2000

 

My husband, my daughter, her ex husband and I are all in the theatre field. That night, the men left to do some rehearsals for a cabaret show, on which they were working together.

 

My daughter and I remained at home, with the intention of translating a text from B. Shaw which I had intended to bring into a show for the season that had just started.

 

Almost immediately, however, we noticed that despite my daughter’s excellent command of the English language, this work needed a lot of time and work to find a way of translating where the poems, rhythms and humor would not be lost in translation.

 

Considering the difficulty of the task, we immediately focused on attempting to find the text already translated.

 

And so, while brainstorming together, we did not know how, we found ourselves discussing the subject of life beyond death.

 

I remember exactly what I declared, like I had often done, that  I was open minded about the hypothesis of there being something beyond death, and that in her reply, my daughter replied without hesitation: “Well, this is the difference between you and me. You are just open minded about it, I know for sure”.

 

A discussion such as this would normally be soon forgotten about, or we could have had it again in the future, had it not been for what happened the following morning, Saturday 23rd September. I was woken up by my husband who had the unfortunate task of communicating to me, in tears, that my youngest daughter, from a previous marriage, had killed herself just a few hours earlier, she threw herself off her balcony in her home.

 

That Saturday the entire family rallied around me, friends were all there with us, to support us in such a terrible moment. This girl, only 21 years old, had always been in a kind of war with life, since she was a newborn I rarely saw her at peace with herself. This consideration may bring some comfort a little bit from her loss, especially if one has faith, and have few or no uncertainties about what my daughter had claimed so confidently just the night before.

 

Like (the songwriter) De Andre’ says, we were crying for what had been taken away from us of her, her thin arms, her forehead, her face ….

 

When the house was once again free from all friends and relatives, my husband invited me to lie down on the sofa and to leave to him the task of tidying up the kitchen.

 

I took him up on it and I completely let go on the sofa, laying dead weight there. Since it proved impossible to formulate any thought that did not involve a lot of pain, I emptied my mind out, keeping my focus fixed on the sound from the vacuum brush my husband was using on the tablecloth in the kitchen.

 

All of a sudden, I noticed two figures behind the back of the sofa. All I could see was the face and the shoulders. I stopped on the face of the first one: a priest. He could have been about 45 years old. Short hair, ash blonde, blue eyes, and a half-inch long beard, same color as his hair. While I stopped to look at his face, I noticed in the background a second figure, of which two details were going to remain etched in my mind forever: the white dress and the long, thick straight hair, just like my daughters’; I did not have time to notice the second figure as thoroughly as I did with the first one, because in that moment my mind shot out a thought loaded with anxiety: “Who are they and what are these strangers doing in my house?” At that point I immediately returned to my conscious state again, and what I have ever since then described as “my vision” immediately disappeared.

 

I got up, I went to the kitchen to tell my husband what had just happened to me. I told him that before that moment I had no idea what a vision could look like, but right then I was sure I had just had one, not called for, not sought, it was unexpected and surprising.

 

I asked him what he thought of the second figure, because I had a lingering doubt that it could have been an Angel (before that day I had never really thought of Angels) or perhaps it could have even been my daughter, who came to make sure I was coping. My husband cheered me up by telling me that it must have really been my daughter, worried for the pain that her death must have caused.

 

We could not be certain of it, however that idea gave us comfort and somehow seemed to tell us that in the dimension that she was in now, whatever that may be, someone had welcomed her and that she was all right.

 

What I could not understand was why she seemed to be accompanied by a priest. Neither my daughter nor I, not everyone else in my family goes to Church or is linked in any way to any religious figure ….

 

In that moment the association of my daughter with a priest seemed to be void of meaning and I repeated several times out loud this question to my husband: “Yes, but why the priest. What does a priest have to do with her?”

 

The following day we still felt the need to gather all together in our family, we went to my sister’s house. There was also my first daughter and her ex husband. We had been there a little while when the doorbell rang. It was my ex husband, father of my daughters, who certainly must have felt the need to be with his daughter’s family, with the people who, like him, had loved her so much.

 

Lately my daughter had spent a lot of time with him, even though she had just moved into her own apartment a few months earlier. For this reason, my ex husband had many details to share with us about her life during her last weeks, the last days, the last hours, up to the dramatic discovery which unfortunately he had to make himself personally.

 

He spoke at length. When he stopped, we all remained in silence for a little while, in a reflective mode, thinking about her.

 

He broke the silence once again: “She took her life on the day of the anniversary of the death of Padre Pio, 23rd of September. In her hand she was clutching the Rosary I had brought to her from San Giovanni Rotondo”.

 

For all other people, that last additional detail did not have much meaning, but for me it was a clear and strong answer to the question I had asked out loud to my husband: “The priest! That’s why she was accompanied by a priest!”

 

The Vision Of Padre Pio And Of My Daughter Who Committed Suicide was told by Alba

 

The Vision Of Padre Pio And Of My Daughter Who Committed Suicide

 

www.leparoledegliangeli.com/en The words of the Angels

 

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