This is a deathbed story I'd like to share. It happened in April, 2010 in Tyne and Wear, U.K. My paternal grandfather was in hospital. He had no dementia, but actually had re-occurring tuberculosis he had previously naturally fought off whilst a prisoner of war building the Burma railway. It came back to claim him many years later, after he'd lived a long and happy life, dying aged 90.
Whilst attending hospital every day, my father and I were in my granddad's room after work, as usual. He said, "Kelly, who is that behind you? What does he want?"
I looked behind and, of course, there was no one there. "Do you recognize who you can see, granddad?" I asked.
"Nope," he replied. "Never seen him in my life."
I asked my granddad to describe him. He said he had a long, silly black beard and was wearing a gold robe, "and he's just left the room now!" although the door was closed.
"How couldn't you see him?" granddad asked. "He was standing right behind you!"
Not wanting to disrespect my granddad, implying he was mad or seeing things, I said, "No, granddad, I didn't see him."
He looked slightly embarrassed and shrugged it off, saying, "Ah, well... Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me, but I'm tired now." So we said our goodbyes. I told him I loved him and I'd return tomorrow as normal.
Within the hour, I received a phone call from the nurses to come back, he was in heart failure. I live a street away, so I ran back through the hospital and just made it to his hospital room where they were trying to assist him.
"Leave him. Please. He's gone. He's had enough." And they did. The man I'd never had a crossed word with, the man who never judged me, who I thought my world would end without... had gone.
I went to a spiritualist a month later, who said, "Your grandfather is here, is with your gran, and they are pleased you have buried their ashes together in the cemetery. And they like the white stones, but yes, choose yellow flowers, not red. And the black granite is typical! You and your black!" (I always wear black.) It comforts me to know they're still around. How else could they know exactly what their grave looked like?
