I remember that day like it was last month. He had died a couple days earlier. I was sitting in front of the TV when I saw him coming down the stairs. He was wrapped up in the blue patchwork quilt I had made him for Christmas one year. His appearance was kind of opaque or foggy. The expression on his face was like he had just woken up in the morning and was coming down for breakfast. He plopped down in the chair next to me, saying nothing. I looked at him and said,
“Eric, you died.”
He immediately disappeared. Now I wish I would have waited before speaking. Maybe we would have had a few more precious moments together.
A couple days after his funeral I was losing it, as you might imagine. Stuck in my sorrow, I was crying hard when I heard a knock at the door. To my surprise, it was a guy I used to know from my high school days. He said he heard of Eric’s passing and apologized for not making it to the funeral. After an awkward pause he said,
“You’re not going to believe this”.
He told me the incredible story of his day. He said he was compelled to drive to this side of town for reasons he did not know. He was driving down the main street in town when he said he saw Eric standing on the corner, motioning him to turn down my street. Then he said he saw Eric standing next to the mailbox, waving him into my driveway. It took me just a moment before I believed him. He had always been the intuitive type. Now we had something more in common. We had both seen Eric after he died.
Eric was attempting to comfort me by bringing this guy to my house; and it worked. Our loved ones help us any way they can after they die. They can be very creative and resourceful.