Today would have been my dad's 80th birthday. Dear Daughter says she sees him from time to time--usually in the house where I grew up. She's curiously matter of fact about it, considering he died in the summer of 2006. But I don't doubt she really does see him. I don't understand how or why, but they loved each other immensely. If it comforts here to see her Papa opening the door and sitting in a chair, I'm okay with that.
I'd give a lot to see him again myself.