My Dad was 59 when he passed away. For his 60th birthday we had a special family memorial to scatter his ashes to the sea. I flew back to California for the weekend and we took out a small boat into the Marina, where he used to frequent in his younger days. His body had been cremated, and his ashes were contained in a plastic bag in a wicker basket with rose petals placed over the top. Before we left the harbor, my Mom offered me the opportunity to touch/feel his remains. I was nervous, but knew I would regret it if I didn't. I moved the flower petals aside and dipped my fingers into the ashes. I rubbed them together between my fingers. It was a sensation I knew I'd never forget.
Several months later I was back at school. It was a Campus Wide Day of Prayer, and we had an All School Communion in the evening. For some reason that night I just felt that I had to go... like there was some sort of Divine appointment waiting for me. I've learned to follow these promtings.
That evening our Chaplin shared a brief message, and then called us forward to take the bread and the wine. Communion can be served in different ways, but this night there were people positioned around the chapel who held held full loaves of bread & chalises of grape juice. I went to one of them and broke off a small piece to dip in the juice. When I took the bread to my mouth, the grape juice dripped down my arm, and gave me a sensation of the blood of Christ. In the moments that followed, I rubbed my fingers together to remove the bread flour from my fingers. I was immediately taken back in time. The last time I felt this feeling, it was my Dad's body. This time it was what represents the Body of Christ. Communion has never been the same for me since.