Signs from a deceased loved one

After reading Algernon’s post I thought to myself, he’ll have little signs from his mom to look forward to.

This may sound like an odd sentiment, but I’m sure it’s a pretty common phenomenon, and was wondering if anyone else has had the same type of experience.

A week after my father died suddenly, my mother was preparing to take a shower when the fawcet handle came off in her hand. She started crying to herself, as it capped a long frustrating week where nothing seemed to go right. After a few moments, she thought to herself, “I guess I need to learn to take care of things myself now” and set about to fix the fawcet herself. She looked at the pieces in her hand and knew she needed a phillips head screwdriver. She wasn’t sure where my dad kept his tools, so she began to look around for something she could use to improvise with. Then she saw something that made her laugh out loud and begin crying all over again, but in a comforted way. In the toothbrush holder, of all things, hung a phillips head screwdriver. It was almost as if my dad had put it there before he died, for my mom to use in just this instance.

As far as my own experience, one of my favorite pictures of my dad is of him feeding seagulls at the shore. Here in northeastern PA, seagulls aren’t very common. Every now and then, if something really good happens, or if I’m going through a rough time, I’ll see a seagull feel better.

I was in the process of buying my grandparents house when my grandmother passed away. Alot of their stuff came with the house, and I pretty much knew where they kept everything. However, my wife did not. One time, she was looking for some thing or another that she had seen once before. She knew it was in the house, but wasn’t sure where it was kept. After about 2 hours of tearing the house apart looking for it, she checked a cabinet that she had checked several times before, and it was right there, almost as if my grandmother put it there for her to find. It was then that I began to refer to it as “our kitchen” instead of “Momma’s kitchen”, because that was her sign to us that she was glad we kept the house in the family.

Does anyone else have similar stories?

After my uncle died, his sister was inconsolable. One light, less than a week after the funeral, she had a dream in which he took her on a picnic near the spot where he died. In the dream they remembered funny things from their childhoods, and toward the end, he told her that he loved her, but it was time to go. She said she wept and begged him to stay, but he gently and firmly pulled away, telling her a little joke as he walked off.

She said she woke laughing and crying, and afterwards felt much better about his death. To this day, she remains convinced that he somehow visited her to try to comfort her. I have my doubts that she was actually visited by his ghost, but if it makes her feel better, I’m not going to try to disuade her.

Waiting in the Sacramento airport to come home after my Dad died. Sat down at a phone booth, thinking I should make some calls. Found a penny, which is weird since nobody uses pennies to make a call. According to legend, a penny is a sign from your loved one that they are OK. Big public crying jag after that one.

I associate monarch butterflies with my mum.

She died on Thursday September 4, 1997. The service was scheduled for the Monday after. During the weekend in between, I was sat on the front porch of our home, my mind whirling. Full of “What on earth do I do now?” thoughts. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I was alone, I wasn’t ever to hear her voice, to hear her advice on life’s stuff anymore.

Then, I saw the butterfly.

Now, yeah, it was a coincidence. But, the sighting brought me immeasurable comfort and strength of spirit to continue on, as have sightings of this beautiful butterfly since. My mum has gone, yet she’s still around, in a way.

My good friend Steven committed suicide this summer. I was devastated.

I had a dream several weeks later that made my grief much more bearable. In my dream, I was sitting on a dock with my friend Justin and my boyfriend-at-the-time, Alex. We were sitting on the edge, with our legs over the water, talking quietly and enjoying the nice weather. I picked up the body of a large butterfly from a rock beside the pond and placed it in the water. The body disappeared but the bright dust from its wings remained on the surface of the water. Astonished, I called Alex and Justin’s attention to it, and placed a second butterfly on the water. The same thing happened, but they seemed unimpressed.

Suddenly from behind us, Steven walked up and sat down with us. The three of us exchanged glances- we all knew Steven was dead- but said nothing about it. Stevie talked with us and joked with us, just like usual. Finally he stood up to leave, and I stood up as well, crying. I asked him not to leave, and ran after him, clinging to him. He comforted me and told me, over and over again, “I will see you again!” in a determined voice.

It was the first and only time I’ve ever woken up crying.

I find it interesting that, like Lissa’s uncle’s sister, I had a dream in which Steven visited me, and that, like Ice Wolf, butterflies played a significant role in my experience. (Their symbol as rebirth and new life seems appropriate, I’d think.)

My thoughts regarding the afterlife change as time passes, but I still hold on to the hope that I will see Steven again. While I was never sure whether or not I believed that a deceased loved one could contact you (and I’m still not), I think it’s a wonderful idea. Whether it was a product of my imagination or not, it brought me a sense of peace and calm that I will always remember. I am glad to know that others have shared similar experiences.

When I was about 20 years old, I had a friend die in a traffic accident. Her death disturbed me deeply because of our age and the sense of my own mortality. I didn’t have any strong religious opinions re: the existence of an afterlife or being able to communicate with the dead.

I was driving home one night from work and had a “vision” of Jill laughing and saying “Nance, I’m all right”.

I felt so much peace after that. Like others that have posted here, I don’t know (or care) if this “vision” was real or a figment of my imagination. All I know is that it was precisely what I needed at that moment to come to terms with her death.

These stories (especially **Casey’s ** ) have turned me into a sniveling mess.

I have two, not my own:

My Uncle died in October 2001. His wife is my aunt. I am very close to her. They had been married 45 years. A very good marriage. In the months that followed, she took comfort by sitting at the piano and playing, something she had neglected during the final months during my uncle’s slow (relatively pain-free decline - his heart gave out.)

So she sat there, playing some of his favorite songs and she said for an instant, a micro-glimpse, she saw him sitting (as he always did) in his favorite chair, listening to her play, which always gave him such pleasure. She said a feeling of such comfort and love came over her that she knew he was watching.
**Two ** (funny)

A former coworking of mine, Anne, mother had passed away. Anne has always lived at home with her parents ( it is not as pathetic as it sounds.) Shortly after her Mom died, Anne was laid off from her job and instead of moping about in double grief, she decided to *do something about it * like work out again.

So laying on the floor, watching TV, she was doing crunches. Eventually, as these things happen, the urge to destroy every functioning brain cell by watching Jenny Jones and whatnot took over her urge to work out, and soon she was laying there in a slack jawed state watching day time TV.

Then the TV turns off.

It wasn’t a power outage, as all the other lights were on.

Checking the TV ( Via remote, then the button) showed it had no power.

So she checks the plug. *It was on the ground *

No one else was home. It could have fallen out of the socket. Anne plugs it back in and goes back to Brain Dead TV.

TV goes off again.

*The plug is out of the socket. *

She knows she put it in right. ( It isn’t too hard to screw up.) Feeling slightly weird, she does it again. and (yes) goes back to watching Tv.

It happens again.

She finally is freaking out and decides to go work out at the gym.

She discussed it with her dad, and they decided (semi-jokingly) that it was her mother telling her to turn off the TV and go work out.

(She is one of the most normal skeptical pragmatic people I know.)

Would you believe we have had contact from a dog?

Our springer spaniel Miss Emily died in December 1999. If ever there was a psychic bond between animal and human, it was between Mr. S and Emily. She adored him completely, and vice versa. I would have been jealous if she were a woman. She loved me too, but only because I was a possession of his.

Anyway, the month after she died was pretty rough, and we were both sick with one thing after another, besides missing her terribly. Among other things, Mr. S developed an extremely irritating skin infection. One morning he was lying awake, miserable, with his skin burning him, wondering whether he should go to work and suffer or stay home and suffer. I was asleep; he could hear me breathing. Suddenly, in the ear he had pressed into his pillow, he heard a bark. HER bark. Her distinctive play-bark.

Now Emily had a habit of getting up from her bed in our room around 3:30 or 4 every morning, trotting over to Mr. S’s side of the bed, and nosing his hand to get a few moments of petting. It seemed to be her way of reassuring herself that we were (or at least he was) still there, and everything was all right. Just checking. And then she would go back to her bed.

Mr. S would have been the first one to scoff at the idea that someone’s dead dog would visit from the afterlife. But he believes that Emily was checking on him and reassuring him in his misery. And if he believes it, so do I.

She has visited him similarly a few times since then. And just the other day, when all our dogs were in their pens outside, I was inside our quiet house when I distinctly heard a collar and tags jingling. Mr. S thinks she was visiting me: “She loved you too, you know.” Perhaps. I was standing about five feet from her ashes on the piano, next to the last collar she wore, tags still attached.

Part of the reason we had her cremated was so that if there was any connection between spirit and earthly remains, she would always be near us, in the place she loved best. I think it was a good decision.

I’m not a big beleiver in this sort of thing, but I’ve had one thing happen that is pretty interesting. If it’s coincidental, so be it.

When my dad died he was cremated, and my mom and I took him out on a friend’s boat to dump his ashes in the ocean. He liked the water, loved fishing, and we thought it appropriate. We also sent along his favorite beer mug filled with beer.

Aobut 6 months later I was fishing with some friends, and we were trolling the spot looking for some grouper. We were deciding who would take what rod, who’d get hte first fish, etc. Since I was a guest on the boat, it was decided that I would get the first fish.

Not 5 seconds later the rod started singing, sonething was hooked, and hooked good. Turned out to be a 6’ 2" 154 pound tarpon. After a looong fight we finally got the fish to the boat. I was pretty pumped and looked around, then noticed that we were, as near as I could tell, in the EXACT same spot where we dumped my dad’s ashes.

We didn’t get so much as a strike for the rest of the day.

Take it how you will.

Day or two after Washte’s dad died, we went grocery shopping.

We spent the whole time talking about her dad as we walked around the store. Arriving at the deli counter, still talking about her dad, Washte took a numbered ticket and waited in line.

The ticket number was B00.

can’t say if this was direct contact or not, but anyway…

several years back, my mother and i returned to Ohio for my grandfather’s funeral. it was January and snowy, which is quite normal for there. on the day of this funeral, as best i can recall, we had some periods of weather, but nothing that interferred with the services.

later that day, as we were driving to my aunt’s house, i looked out the car window at the sky. it was filled with great black clouds in the distance, and i think i remember looking at it and being grateful that it hadn’t dumped on us during the time at the cemetary, but also feeling very blue in remembering that my grandfather was gone.

as i stared at the clouds, since they were putting on such a magnificently menacing display, i suddenly noticed something. there was not one, but TWO rainbows appearing against that impressive backdrop. and as i gazed at them, lo and behold i could see the faint shine of a THIRD one, or at least a portion of it. i felt much better as soon as i saw that, and pointed it out to my mother and aunt. i figured it as a sign that Grandpa had a clear highway to where he was headed and that he was at peace.

– lachesis

Thanks for all the posts do far. I hope this thread keeps going for a while.

One more story about my grandmother. Momma was a neat freak. Everything in her house had the just washed, just vaccuumed, just pressed look to it. The bottoms of her copper pots always looked brand new. A used glass did not sit in the sink for more than a few minutes. Nothing was ever out of place. She even ironed underwear. She was always dressed sharply, even if she had no plans other than laundry. She was very Felix Unger-ish, and she’d even poke fun at herself on occasion for this trait.

She passed away a week before my uncle was supposed to be married. She had been ill for a little while before she died, so the possibility of postponing the wedding had been discussed for some time. It was finally decided at her funeral that the wedding would go on as scheduled a few days later.

That night, it began to rain. It only rained twice that week–both times for 3 days straight. Everyone prepared for a rainy wedding day, but when the day came, there was nothing but blue skies and sunshine. It was quite possibly the nicest day of the summer that year. But there was not a dry eye in the church when my uncle himself said that the past several days was just Momma getting everything cleaned for the wedding, so that her son’s day would be even more perfect.

I was driving to Indiana for my (now ex) father inlaw’s funeral, my (ex) wife had flown out there a few days earlier. It’s a long drive and I didn’t split it up, I just got in the car afer work and haulled ass on down the road. It’s late and I’m tired and I hear him tell me to wake up. Thankfully I woke just as I was heading off the shoulder of the interstate. It was like having 20 cups of coffee hit me all at once.
I didn’t (and still don’t) believe in the afterlife. I wish I did. If I did then I’d believe that I’d see our daughter in more than the too rare and too sad dreams I have.
Nothing is fair.

I tripped and broke my elbow last year. I’m pretty sure my late father pushed me.

Crotchety old sonofabitch.

if that’s the case I hope I don’t outlive my ex-motherinlaw! Or my mother either for that matter.

I love you, Eve.

My Grandfather passed away a year ago this March at home. On Thanksgiving we had all gathered at Grandma’s house for dinner, everything was being put out on the table and people were coming to sit. I was feeling a little blue, wishing Grandpa was there to joke and talk around the dinner table. I looked up as my aunt was coming into the kitchen. And just for a second I’d swear I saw Grandpa coming behind her to take his seat at the table.

Sometimes at my lowest times, or just when I miss my Grandfather’s I feel like they are standing just behind me squeezing my shoulder. Letting me know they are still around to keep an eye on me.

My best buddy in college chewed tobacco (which I despised). I was a smoker (which he despised). I used to keep a coffee can full of matches around just so I wouldn’t be without a light. To annoy the heck out of me and make it hard for me to smoke, he used to:take a pack out, light one match, then light the whole book (repeat) until all matchbooks are gone.

After he died I was at his parents house, when I noticed my leg getting warm. Then hot. I suddenly realized the pack of matches in my pocket had lit on fire. My hands had been nowhere near my pocket. Just like him to get one last zing in.
I had another buddy who was a police officer, and was killed in the line of duty. It was a grey and dingy day for his funeral. The lone bagpiper had just started in with Amazing Grace. Suddenly, just as the other bagpipers kicked in, a strong ray of sun hit the the cemetary and the crowd. It left just as the waning wisps of air were letting out the last notes. It was the only sunshine we saw that week.

I have an arrangement with mayn siblings that we will leave each other undeniable signs from the afterlife. I think this is a pretty cool pact!

I sing in a very large church choir. All who want to sing do - Make a Joyful Noise and all that.

I sat next to the sweetest little old woman, Regina. She was also deaf as a post. Couldn’t find the pitch if it hit her, but she was always there, right next to me, every Sunday. We sat on the very back row, closest to the door. This way she could sneek in late or sneek out for a potty break during service.

She died and all the choir went to her funeral.

The next Sunday, there I am, on the back row of the choir… Eyes focused on the Director. I see the door open out of the corner of my eye and feel someone stand next to me. I feel a little tug on the corner of my robe, and I move my music over so she can look on. When the song is over, I turn to help her sit down and there is no one there.

But the door was open.