This is a very difficult story for me to tell. As a little background I would like to mention that my brother committed suicide decades ago. His birthday was November 9. Six years after he died my father died on my brother's birthday, November 9. Moving ahead another 13 or 14 years my mother died on November 11. If one checks the calendar one can see that this is the same weekend of the month of November although not exactly the same day.
My mother and I have had a very difficult history. She had rewritten her history to make her the best mother that ever lived. Frankly that was not true. She was abusive and this contributed to my brother's suicide. At the time of her death, I was alone in her condo for about a week. My oldest brother and his wife had been her primary caregivers until I came to stay with her and give them a break. I hated being alone with her and was freaked out by the atmosphere in her condo, which I understand may have been my own projections. However, I felt that there were spirits around every corner, to the extent I contemplated putting a "Do not enter" sign on my bedroom door. My mother had previously been calling out to my father to take her away and even though my father was a kind man that I loved, I didn't want to see him either.
A few days before her last breath, while barely able to speak, my mother mentioned she'd had two visitors, people I had never heard of. We figured out these were people she'd known before she came to America and one of her sisters confirmed this.
I have no doubt she was visited by these old friends as well as by my father. What is most coincidental is that the second weekend of November seems to be a special date for my family, whether good or bad.