Kevin M. Touhey, Amazon best selling Author  

As we get set to officially launch the new Blog Talk Radio show "Miracles are Here!", I wanted to share with the listening audience a piece from my book, The Miracle of Optimism. In many ways, this radio show will draw on the lessons and life stories I delve into in this book. I hope that through sharing my experiences, you can also find optimism in your own life and learn to accept miracles in the least likely of places. Thank you for stopping by my blog and please tune in this weekend at 6:30 pm on Sunday, May 25th.

An Excerpt from The Miracle of Optimism: Change Your Perspective, Transform Your Life, by Kevin Touhey

From Chapter 2: The Miracle of Regina Margaret Touhey

“A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.” 

                        ~ Isadora James

Regina and I nearly shared the same birth date, which my mother would have liked. I was born on August 7, 1951. Regina was born eight years later on August 8, 1959, missing the 7^th by just a few hours. With her light brown/blond hair and blue eyes, a light of spirit surrounded her being. Jeannie, as we called her, knew how to crawl into your lap and take residence in your heart.

Once when my sisters and mom were going out, I was asked to keep an eye on Regina until they got back. I was only nine years old at the time. Jeannie and I frolicked on the floor and laughed and played together. My heart was so filled with love for her in that moment. After we played she led me to a chair in the living room. She wanted me to sit so she could curl up in my lap. I sat down in the chair and she crawled up onto my lap and into my heart. She rested her head on my chest, right next to my heart, and I felt the soft rhythmic beat of her heart in unison with mine. A powerful sense of peace flooded my entire being. We both fell into a very deep sleep that felt like a dream. A spiritual gift of calm bestowed upon me by my sister quieted the distress of our lives of poverty, albeit for a short while.

I remember being on the school bus telling the driver to hurry up, that my little sister was home after a long stay in the hospital and I wanted to get home to see her. I ran in the front door and back to the kitchen. Regina was sitting and eating in her high chair. I was so happy to see her! But Regina looked very ill; so sickly that I hardly recognized her. I kissed her all over her face and head. She giggled in delight. I was so happy to see her, my heart could’ve burst out of my chest.

I knew she would not be with us much longer.  I loved her so much and was feeling bereft already.

Within a month Regina’s condition worsened. She developed lumps on her back and had to go back to the hospital. I never saw her alive again.

While Regina was in the hospital, I vividly remember hearing the phone ring. My mother came down the steps after hanging up. I had never seen her look so sad. Mom said, “It was the hospital calling. They said that Jeannie was not feeling very well. Dad is going to visit her.” My father was out of work and we had no car. So when that call came telling us that Regina was dying, my dad scrambled to borrow a friend’s car. By the time he got there, my sister had died, alone.

Since I was not allowed to go to the wake or funeral, I never said a final goodbye to my little sister. The day after the funeral I was holding the Mass card to my heart as I was sitting on the floor at the end of the bed. As I was in this reverie of sorrow, Regina walked in the room, and in a perfectly enunciated sentence, with clear precise delivery, she said, “Kevin, don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”

My dear little sister Regina had spoken so clearly and looked so beautiful, not sick at all. She had a light of peace and love around her. I’d felt a sense of hopelessness and she wanted me to know everything would be alright.

The message is, “Kevin, everything will be alright in your world, always remain hopeful. Just believe and know that all is well in your world. Find your way back to your optimism. Get in touch with your soul.”

I was blessed to have had this direct experience at a very young age. The phenomenon of spiritual manifestation into human form in the life and death of my dear sister was such a profound blessing.

Regina’s life was a reflection of hope, joy, faith, love, and happiness. But all these years I have had the emphasis on the wrong part of her being, her death.

In her last stay in the hospital before she died she played tricks on the kids and nurses. That gave this whole floor of dying children and their caretakers in the hospital a chance to laugh. This little eighteen month-old sprite would get down from her bed and go around the hospital ward and take all the other children’s slippers. She hid them in the closet so the kids would have to come to her room and get their slippers. I know my sister just wanted to bring some joy to a dire situation. That is true spirit. Regardless of her own condition her motivation was to bring happiness to those around her. That was the kind of spirit that she always demonstrated.

I remember my father telling me near the end of his life that he could never get over the death of Regina. He said her death ruined his relationship with the church and with God. He just could not understand how God could have taken her away.

I don’t think God is hovering around deciding who should die and who should live. I loved my dad and I wish that he could have tapped into Regina’s life, not her death. If he’d stopped asking, “Why, God, did you take my little daughter?” and instead used the special gift of Regina’s life to do the most good, the unbearable pain of his loss may have been eased. That takes extraordinary faith. I am writing these words without judgment and I have no idea what state I would be in if one of my children died. But just maybe he would’ve discovered God residing right inside himself. He may have been able to make sense of the purity of her spiritual intention, to bring hope to this poor struggling family.

My sister Kathy told me, “Dad was unable to pass this particular test of his faith and hopefulness.” Perhaps she is right.

It would be twenty-seven years before I truly mourned Regina’s death, let alone tell anyone about my encounter with her. To tell anyone that she sounded like an adult when she spoke to me and how she didn’t look sick, just beautiful, might have been puzzling. Finally, I understand. I know deep in the place where God lives that what Regina Margaret Touhey said forty-five years ago is true. No matter what my earthly circumstances, everything will be alright. My life is now a Miracle of Optimism.