An actual visitation where you saw them? Or some seemingly clear sign from them? Or the standard: lights flickering, finding pennies in impossible places?
My example:
When my husband was in the ICU during the last 10 days of his life, I had a watch that I always wore. It started slowing down, stopping, then starting again. He died on a Friday the 21st of the month at 11:21 am (that’s the time on his death certificate). Over the weekend, the watch was starting and stopping, so I took it off and put it on the mantle.
A week went by and I had not touched the watch in the meantime, having many things to do (like a funeral and then shiva). When I looked at it way past after a week after he had died, I saw that it had finally stopped at 11:21. And it was a calendar watch: it had stopped on the 28th, precisely seven days to the minute from the official time of death on the death certificate. I took that to be a sign that he had gotten Over There (wherever that is) safely.
My brother dropped by once (seemingly in the flesh) to give me shit for messing around with potentially fatal psychoactive substances, expressing disappointment and reminding me that I was supposed to be the smart one. It seemed natural enough at the time, because I was off my head on an extract of atropine and scopolamine from datura. He had died 15 years previously, of a heroin overdose.
My grandmother used to use the timer on her stove as an alarm clock. If a show came on aat a certain time or she wanted to call someone at a certain time, she would set the timer to the appropriate hours and minutes and use the buzzer as a reminder. Since she passed away our stove timer will go off now and then, seemingly for no reason although a “reason” will reveal itself later. It went off about 5 minutes before the hospital called to let us know my FiL had passed away and it went off when someone was trying to break into our garage.
The old stove was ------ well, an old stove. But to turn the timer on you had to push it physically in and over a “hump”. I had repairmen out to check it a couple times. The one time was quite a laugh because as he finished telling me it was impossible for it to go off on its own, it went off. He turned it off and as he took his hand away it turned on and went to buzzer again. He left in a rather nervous state.
We’ve got a new stove since then – again with a fool-proof timer buzzer. And it still goes off now and then. We don’t look for a reason; sometimes we learn one and sometimes we don’t. But something in it all makes us feel good.
I could tell you about the rest of the kitchen and my wife’s dead grandmother but I’ll save that for another time.
I clearly and distinctly heard my uncle say my name shortly after his death, but I’m quite certain it was a hallucination as I was pretty upset by his passing, not sleeping well and having panic attacks and such.
I do, however, like to believe that I’m visited by my maternal grandmother in little, non-threatening ways since her death five years ago.
Several months after her death, on my 27th birthday, I received a strange call to a conference room in my office which no one ever called to and my team members don’t even know the extension to. There was no one on the line, but it was playing Norah Jones’ Nightengale. When it ended, the phone disconnected and I went about my day.
Later that night my friends and I went to eat at Olive Garden. Those who have been to Olive Garden know that they play an endless string of Italian-sounding instrumental music to add to the facade that you are eating true Italian food. :rolleyes:
Well, in the middle of dinner the song changes and it’s a song that my grandmother used to sing to me when I was a baby. It is not instrumental and it does not fit the “theme” of the restaurant. I even stopped the rest of my table and asked them to confirm the song to make sure I wasn’t simply losing my mind.
Nat King Cole singing Mona Lisa, perhaps the first time I’d ever heard it outside of my grandmother singing it to me as a sick, fussy or sad child. I sat quietly with the hair on my neck standing straight out and listened until it finished. After the song was over, it was back to Italiana muzak. Weirdest thing.
I have a reverse banjo clock from 1916 that belonged to my maternal grandparents. It has two keyholes for winding, one for the clock itself and the other for the chimes. I was in the habit of only winding the clock itself, as the chimes were rather loud. At the time in question, the chimes had not been wound or rung for weeks if not months.
The mechanism of the chimes is that it would chime once on the half-hour, and chime the time on the hour. It would only chime on the hour or half-hour, not at any other time. The last piece of info is that if the chimes spring had mostly unwound, the chiming would be very slow and “draggy”.
As I returned to the house from my father’s wake, the clock started chiming. It chimed very clearly, not dragged out at all, and it chimed 10-12 times (I was so stunned I didn’t start counting), and was heard by my wife and daughter. It was 10:43. I’ve had enough math where I understand the power of coincidence, but the clock should not have been capable of chiming at that time. I have tried to partially wind the chimes, let them run down, move the clock to between the hour and half-hour, move the clock, shake the clock, etc. I’ve never been able to get the clock to chime at a time it shouldn’t.
My father was the type who lothed religion, but always felt that there might be something past death. I feel the same way, especially now.
When my son died, we were staying in a hotel a block from his apartment. The hotel was across the street and down the block from a grocer store* from the hotel. I couldn’t sleep, so at 5am on Sunday morning I decided to go get some coffee. There’s a ped crossing light in the middle of the block. I was about to cross against the light, when I heard my son’s voice saying,“Mom, you can’t trust the traffic here!” and felt a hand on my shoulder. At that moment, a car came hurtling through the red light at the corner with a medal on medal screech. He started to spin and finally ended up on the sidewalk a couple feet from where I was going to cross.
I haven’t but my daughter said my mom visited her the night she died. My daughter was five at the time. I had worried about telling her that her grandmother was gone, but she told me she already knew, that my mom visited her the night before and said she had to go away but that she’d always be there in her heart. I know, cheezy. And really poorly written at that!
I don’t believe in this stuff at all, but I really don’t know what to make of it. My daughter had never been exposed to death and wasn’t the type to tell stories. All I can figure is she saw it in a movie or tv show but even that doesn’t make sense. I do wonder why she didn’t mention it until I told her she’d passed. We spent the first half the day wondering why she hadn’t shown up for our regular Sunday lunch. Why didn’t she mention it before, like “Oh meemaw won’t be coming cuz she’s an angel now” or something?
I find most of these stories heartening. I like to think that my father helped to find the house that I’m currently living in, but it’s probably more coincidence than anything.
My father passed away the day after I returned from a trip to England with an engagement ring. Several years later, my husband and I were living in the next town over from my mom, but looking to move to her town. We didn’t think we could afford anything like what we wanted. On the anniversary of my father’s death I was driving home from work on my way to Mom’s house for a quick visit to check up on her, when I decided to drive through a neighborhood that my husband & I had always liked, just a few blocks from Mom. I don’t know what made me turn there on my way to her house, or why I turned down another side street, but there was a house for sale by owner. It was exactly what we were looking for. I wrote down the phone number and called later to set up an appointment to see it. The price was just at the top of what we thought we could afford. The house turned out to be perfect, and we’re still living there 10 years later.
I’d never been down that street before, and there was a lot of drama involved before we closed the deal, but I still believe my dad helped us find that house. Thanks, Dad! I miss you!
I have others.
About 3 months after his death, I was driving home from work, crying, as I did almost every day. It was a beautiful fall day, but I just couldn’t enjoy it. I was stopped at a light near my house, which is also near Lake Washington. Out loud, I said, “Michael, I need to stop crying every day, show me you’re ok.” At that moment, a bald eagle flew across my field of vision. It made me smile.
What makes this significant, is that for years, Michael wore a silver eagle claw necklace that I’d had made for him.
Another one was from a patient from a bonemarrow transplant unit. It was just dusk. I hadn’t turned the lights on in the room where I was getting my 4 year old patient ready for bed. It was summer, about 9PM. The building was on the top of a hill. The room, on the 9th floor, faced west and had a wall of windows. The sunset was beautiful, but the room was getting dim. Suddenly there was a blue light over the kid’s bed.
I thought he’d flashed a light or the sunset played a trick. The light stayed about 5 seconds.
I said “Wow, I wonder what caused that?” He said “That was just Kevin, saying goodbye.” :eek:
Kevin was a 6 year old patient down the hall, who had struck a friendship with my little guy.
Just then, the code alarm went off. I stepped into the hall to see everyone streaming into Kevin’s room. He’d died at the exact moment the bluelight shone in my kid’s room.
