I heard the following account from Hospice Nurse Julie recently that I felt that I needed to share. Tell me what you think. Thanks.
"My mother was dying of ovarian cancer 4 years ago. She went into Hospice Care at home for the last 7 months of her life. The last month she became nonverbal and mostly bedridden. My father, brother and I knew the time was close.
I was a police officer at the time and I worked the afternoon shift so I would go in the morning to see my mother and father, help out as much as I could with the caregiver, and then go to work.
The day she died I met with a friend who was a caterer and we discussed catering her funeral at my parent's church. We sat at a coffee shop for about an hour planning the menu. I went home hung up my gun belt, stripped off my uniform, and drew a warm bath. I laid back and closed my eyes for a few minutes when I heard my mother's voice telling me that she had just died and I needed to get over to the house. I sat up in the bathtub and I saw her standing in the doorway of my bathroom. She looked about 20 years old, the age she was when she married my father. I said, "Are you okay?" She smiled and said, "I'm fine. Go take care of your father and brother."
I got out of the tub, dried off, and put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Then my phone rang. Now it's midnight. no one calls me at midnight. I answered the phone and my brother said my name and didn't say anything else. I said, "I know. I'm on my way." I jumped in the car, drove two miles to my parent's house, and walked inside. My brother standing in the kitchen holding the phone in his hand. He asked me how I knew and I said, "She told me." I walked into the room and the hospice caregiver was sitting in the chair, as she had just called her supervisor to come declare my mom dead.
We had not awakened my father yet. We were going to do it when they arrived, but I said, "Wait, I'll do it when I'm ready. But right now I wanted to hold my little mother, my tiny little sunken mother in my arms one last time. I crawled into bed with her, held her in my arms, and told her everything was going to be okay and that we would be okay. We woke my father up and, of course, he was devastated. They had been married for 58 years.\
About an hour later my brother asked me how I knew and I told my brother and father what had happened in the bathtub. My father looked at me and said, "I know why that happened. I know you, your mother, and your grandmother are connected to the universe in a way that no one can explain."
11 months later my father had a massive heart attack in his easy chair watching the afternoon news. It was my birthday and I had gone out with some friends that night. About 3:00 in the morning my mother woke me up and told me I needed to go take care of my father now. She told me to go to the house and take care of him. I did what she said and I found my father dead in his easy chair with the television still on.
My father was right. My mother, my grandmother, and I have a unique connection."
NOTE: Julie mentions that she goes on to say this was not the first or the last time things like this happened to me. It's been happening to me forever since I was 3 years old and I'm 68 now. I had a very similar event happen to me when my Aunt passed away in 1977. Lon
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