These past few weeks have been pretty hard on my dad's side of the family. My grandfather passed away due to prostate cancer that had spread to his bones, and he wasn't able to breathe very well on his own due to fluid building up in his lungs so he needed oxygen everyday that the nurse gave him.
I was never really close with my grandfather, sure I visited once in a while but didn't really have a bond with him. He passed away on June 2, 2016 (he was 94 years old), my dad with his sisters and brother decided they would do a wake and the funeral together and get it done in one shot which was June 4.
When we got to the funeral home, my dad had told me they didn't embalm him due to how quickly he was going to be buried, which I thought was rather odd. I didn't necessarily say goodbye to him when the last respects happened, I couldn't move from my seat. It's just something about how going up there looking at someone who has died gives me the creeps and I pretty much have been like that since I was little, so I sat with my mom and my fiance.
I wasn't upset at first but as soon as my aunts went up there and were talking to him tears poured from my face. I didn't know if I was upset over losing my grandfather or the pain some of my aunts went through with him (he wasn't a very friendly man). I know I am rambling away just trying to give you the whole picture.
After the wake we went to the cemetery out in Long Island to bury him, and had grabbed some lunch before parting ways. When my fiance and I got home everything was okay.
Now fast forward to Monday. I am having problems with the washing machine, thank god my fiance is handy and was able to fix it. While in the basement I heard what sounded like footsteps above us, no one else was at the house and we were both downstairs along with our dog. I wasn't afraid of the sounds I was hearing. I think it may have been my grandfather letting me know that he is okay where he is and was saying goodbye.