Dad's hand on my shoulder

There is a church that my Dad attended in his last years near the beach house that we stayed at recently.  Over the years I have had a couple of experiences of closeness to Dad while in this church or jogging past it. Feelings like he was still with me as I journeyed through life.  During periods of family struggles it has given me the strength to go on, the feeling that he was telling me, "It will be alright."
This trip, I felt like he was close to me again, like a hand on my shoulder.  This time I was dealing with a tragedy at work, with a group of my union sisters in labor and delivery.  They had just experienced a tragic infant death and because I have come to know them, I too, was experiencing a part of that, and also, trying to formulate a response.
It felt like Dad was behind me, hand on my shoulder, not saying anything, but somehow letting me know that my union efforts had purpose and that I was on the right track.
Never for a minute have I doubted that he would have been pleased with my decision to become a nurse or to help form a union.  That is totally consistent with his beliefs, but the spiritual warmth of his hand on my shoulder is something that buoys my spirit and warms my heart.