I heard on the news the other day that there’s talk of discontinuing the penny. It made me think, how will I get my pennies from heaven now? You see, that’s how my dad checks in on me. Long before he passed, he told me he’d send signs in the form of pennies. I didn’t know then about the songs or the stories connecting coins to messages from loved ones. I did know that all of us believed we did get signs from the other side. However, never before was the sign agreed upon prior to someone’s passing. I wanted to test the afterlife theory and at one of our family gatherings I prodded my dad to tell me what his sign would be. He quickly responded, “I will send you pennies from heaven.”  My brother thought the talk was morbid and that I made my dad uncomfortable. I wondered if that was why he had such a quick response. I never mentioned it again. On his death bed I whispered in his ear, “let me know you got there ok”.

My dad was diagnosed with brain cancer, and looking back, I see that as a gift.
People sometimes get annoyed when you try to see life’s sufferings as blessings, but to me, it truly was. The reality is, I was always going to lose him one day, and there would never be a “right” time. But we had four months. Four months to prepare, to talk, to laugh, to cry. Time to say all that needed to be said before he was gone.

As his cognitive abilities began to decline, he would say his prayers to the man on a stick (Jesus) and use his rocks (rosary beads) and we would laugh at his newfound words for things.

The night before my 37th birthday, I asked him if he knew what the next day was.
He said no.
“It’s my birthday,” I told him.
“How old are you gonna be?” he asked.
“Thirty-seven.”
He looked at me wide-eyed and exclaimed, “You old bat!”

I laughed. That was the last real conversation we had.
The next day, he took a turn for the worse, and he passed away two days after.

During all of our time together we never talked about pennies from heaven.

When someone dies, there’s an immediate list of things that have to be done, making calls, notifying loved ones, arranging services. We did all of that. My dad’s brother, our Uncle Gene, came in from out of town and stayed at my brother’s house. My brother had just moved into a newly built home, and it was perfect timing, because Uncle Gene, a master carpenter who spent his life building houses, was the ideal person to give it a proper inspection.

Now, I don’t typically vacuum my garage, but I suppose if it were being inspected, I might consider it. That’s exactly what my brother did the night before his guest arrived. The house was inspected and passed with flying colors.

So, what does any of this have to do with pennies from heaven?

I’ll tell you.

The next day, as we were getting into the car to leave for the funeral, Uncle Gene bent down and picked something up from the driveway.
“Well, look at that,” he said. “A brand-new shiny penny!”

He had no idea about the penny sign. But my sister-in-law did. She remembered that conversation and she gently took the penny from his hand and ran into the funeral home with it.

“Here, this is for you!” she whispered excitedly. “It’s a penny from your dad”.

I took the penny, and I knew he got to heaven ok. I knew from that minute on we would not lose our connection even if it was not a face-to-face conversation.

I still talk to my dad all the time.

One day, I was outside pulling weeds from our garden, which, honestly, was a miracle in itself because I never do that kind of thing. But for whatever reason, that day, I did.

There was clover growing everywhere. I looked up and said, “Dad, can you send me a four-leaf clover? I’ve never found one.”

I didn’t find a four-leaf clover that day.

But the next day it was my turn to take blood pressure readings at the senior center. I had my usual group, the same seniors who came every month for their checkups. But this time, a new gentleman named Sam came prancing into the room, full of joy.

With a big smile, he said, “Here, this is for you,” and handed me a Post-it note.

On it was a fresh four-leaf clover, and the name Sam written at the top.

I stared at it in disbelief. How did he know? How did this happen? I had just asked my dad for a four-leaf clover the day before.

I had never seen Sam before. And oddly, he didn’t even want his blood pressure taken.

I asked him why he decided to give me the clover.

He simply said, “I find them all the time. I give them away all the time. Look!”

He pulled out a chain from around his neck, one that had been tucked under his shirt. At the end of it was a penny, with a four-leaf clover stamped right into the center. I never saw Sam again during my visits to the Senior Center, but I still have the four-leaf gift I got from my dad via Sam.

Since I had such success with my request for a four-leaf clover, a few days later I decided to ask my dad to send me hundred-dollar bills in lieu of pennies.

A few minutes later, a headline flashed across the TV screen. Look closely and you will see dad sent 100-dollar bills.

I laughed. My dad still has his sense of humor, and I can still hear him saying, “The world doesn’t owe you a living.”

Signs of Hope!

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Patricia A Woods