My mom has always just had feels about things. She's intuitive and just always is right (not just in the motherly sense). She sees shadows and mists and even people. She comes from a big family and none of her siblings have been close ever since a matriarchal grandmother died in 1997.
Even before my gram's death, her siblings had a hard time especially the black sheep of the clan, my uncle Gene. My mother and Gene were very close being the two youngest. Gene followed in his father's footsteps doing construction by day and being a firefighter by night. He was so proud to make this comeback and fighting his addictions after time in rehab. He was proud to be an uncle. He was a big kid himself being a prankster of all sorts, played piano while we danced and sang with him, taught us songs, sang "oldies" to us that he loved, believed in ghosts and told us stories, and pretty much took us all over boston.
We moved to maine in 1998 making it difficult to see family in general but he still sent christmas, birthday, anniversary cards every year and visited when he could. Gene was always there for you, just the kind of guy you want to have around.
Unfortunately his addictions came back in recent years and he stopped talking and being close with all of us including my mom. It devastated her. The last time I talked to him was christmas and he was mad at me for not calling him and telling him about college. He didn't sent us birthday cards that spring, so my mom called to make sure he was okay. He never called back. While I made plans to move into my new apartment, my mom one day turned to me and said, "Something is wrong. I just know it us. I think something's wrong with Gene". Now, as I was saying my mom feels stuff and sees spirits but she gave a look my mother does get and in a tone I'd never heard from my mother in the years I've known her.
On July 3, 2007 I came home from work to my mom bewilder. She said something is wrong with Gene and we needed to go to boston. My mom and I started on our three hour trip. All the songs it seemed on the radio were songs that either my uncle played or sang or went to concerts with my mom. Just a weird trip.
Right as we came onto the tobin bridge in boston jim croce "time in a bottle" came on. It was 8:21pm. My mom looked at me. When the song was over I started to look at my phone. It my cousin was calling. He told us to take our time and he didn't want to talk with my mom. I didn't tell my mother. She looked at me and said why doesn't he want to talk to me. I ignored her question.
My dad called seconds later and told me to tell my mom to pull over. She heard him through the phone and started to cry and yell and question even as we were in the busy traffic. My uncle had died at 8:21 pm. He had accidentally overdosed. It broke all of our hearts. The song "time in a bottle" eerily struck a chord for my mother and I and my favorite uncle. My mom instantly said that this song has to have been a message. I have not heard the song randomly since.
The week after everything was said and done, I headed back to maine in my new apartment. I was ready to deal with the death the way any college kid would. I was ready to drink and cry and forget. I went up to my new room and looked around. The first thing I thought of was, I need a drink. The second thing was, at least I was moved in and everything in my room was clean.
I left my room to go to the room across the hall for a second. I came back to find my desk chair sitting and facing my bed. I thought, maybe it was there so I asked my roommates. They said they hadn't been in my room. I looked at the chair again. The way it was position was almost like a parent or elder going to lecture a child in their bed. I took the hint and didn't drink (well as much) that night.
That week a butterfly had shown up in the fire station that my uncle had worked at. It hung around the lockers and the guys living room. It didn't leave until someone said, "listen geno, your work here is done. It's okay now". My uncle's childhood friend worked with him and was a fellow firefighter. They went for coffee every morning or took turns. Out of habit, he bought two coffees one morning and brought it to the station. A couple of the guys saw him come in and put the coffees down on the table. And then all of a sudden one of the coffees lifted up and hovered for a second and flew to the floor. It was on a steady surface, there was no wind, and he wasn't directly next to it. No one could explain.
This past month we were moving stuff out of my uncle's house when the keys to the moving truck went missing. We looked everywhere. My dad said they were in his pocket last he knew. The only places my dad had been were on the porch and in the kitchen. We spent an hour looking for them. We looked in the attic closet only to find the keys. My dad had been no where near that!
My aunt and cousin had lived with gene and have both been visited by him in dreams lately and he talks to my cousin and smiles at my aunt. They are the only two in the family that were on rocky terms with gene before he passed away and for him to visit them has given them some peace in his sudden death.
I know this story was long and drawn out but maybe others have similar experiences and could shed some light.