I was raised mostly by my grandmother. While pregnant with my third child, we learned she had lung cancer and only a year or so left to live. The baby was born on April 25 (the day after her birthday), at that time the doctors estimated she had 3 or 4 months left. About two weeks after I brought the baby home, I went shopping in a neighbouring town. I was paying for my purchases when I looked at an overhead clock and saw it was 6 minutes to 8 in the evening. When the hand moved to 5 minutes to 8 I became hysterical. I grabbed my purchases and stumbled through the darkness to my car. It was pouring rain and visibility along the dark country roads I was traveling was hazardous, but my uncontrolled crying made it worse. I pulled to the side of the road to try and calm down, and still had no idea why I was crying. I debated whether I should go to the hospital, wondering if I had postpartum depression. I finally made it home, burst into the house, my husband running to grab me as I fell in a heap to the floor and for no reason I blurted out "Grammy's dead." Before he had a chance to respond the phone rang and my mother informed my husband my grandmother had died at 5 minutes to 8. My husband responded "yes, Cathi was with her." This was confusing, as I was not, but I could never explain how I knew what happened (although I had a similar experience as a child).
The story did not end there though. I felt my grandmother's presence and three very distinct messages: 1. Take the baby to "your" doctor. (The new baby was in emergency the night before, but I was told he was fine). 2. Take Zach (my oldest) out of daycare a week early. 3. I kept seeing her dancing with a man in an army uniform. I could tell she knew this man, but not well, they were only acquaintances - it was just an image I could not get out of my head.
I followed her instructions: My doctor immediately diagnosed the life-threatening meningitis my "fine" son actually had and swiftly admitted him to hospital, saving his life. 2. A car ran through a cross walk that Friday afternoon - hitting my oldest son's entire daycare class, several children had minor injuries (my son was home). On the day of my grandmother's funeral I noticed all her Royal Canadian Legion friends leaving the room where she was laid out and going into an adjoining room. In the adjoining room was another Legion member, laid out in his WWII army uniform...he was the man she was dancing with. He had died the same night she did.