Joanne has just posted a touching story about how her saintly friend - Linda - came to say goodbye in the moonlight on the night she died. I know I have already told this story, but I often think about it and want to tell it again. Like I always say - life is so much more interesting if you are prepared to believe in anything, but be careful what you believe in.
My mother died a year or so before my father, and came out with the best last words I have ever heard. It was the days when there were only two television channels (or at least she harked back to those days, when there may have been three) and they did not have a remote to flick between them. It was my father's job to get up and press the buttons.
They were lying upright in bed, watching T.V. and whatever was on was not to my mother's liking, so she said, "This is a load of rubbish. What's on the other side?" then instantly died of a massive heart attack.
My father carried on for a while, then he too died in the little house they ended up in.
Shortly after this, I was working in my shop in Bath, using a loud machine and wearing goggles and ear-defenders, when I became aware of someone standing at the entrance, just the other side of the doors. I looked up to see both my parents standing there, smiling at me silently.
I turned off the machine and removed the safety equipment, then just looked at them. Not a word was spoken, and shortly they just turned and walked away, still smiling benignly.
I knew it was useless to follow or try to talk to them, so I just put all the gear back on and carried on working. It was nice of them to drop by.