My visiting grandmother, well into her eighties, insisted that I go with her for a walk one afternoon. After we were out of eye and ear shot of my mother's house, she stopped and said, "I want to say good-bye to you, I'll be going this year and this is the last time I'll see you. I asked you on this walk as I can't talk freely around your mother - you know how she is about this kind of thing." She died within the year, and it was the last time I saw her.
This came as no surprise to me, as she had always made it clear to me that there was an afterlife. Previously to our walk, she had decided it was time to go when she was in her late seventies as she felt she had served her purpose on earth and was "taking up space." She longed to go and be with her family and friends. While rocking in her chair with her eyes closed and a pleased expression on her face, she would often tell me that she heard her true love, Fred S., calling her to him.
She then set about trying to become ill and die. She visited every infectious person she could find to no avail. She then began walking in the cold rain and finally succeeded in becoming deathly ill. As she later reported to me, as she was rushing down a "tunnel" with her family and friends waiting for her at the end, she heard her daughter-in-law (who was also her nurse) calling her back. "Gall darn you, Trish! I was almost there! Next time, don't call me back!" she angrily cursed Trish. Trish, an old hand at the death bed, calmly replied that she knew that she was about to cross over and didn't feel it was her time to go.
When she finally did die, she died of heart failure. I have never shed a tear or felt any sort of grief over her death: I have only felt happiness for her as I know she is where she wanted to be. She left me so full of her spirit that I have never felt her to be absent