TBT: From beyond the grave

Five or six weeks before Martin entered The Pearlies, I got a late-night visit from his kinfolk. O'Donnells by the dozens. 

If not for the fact that in the weeks before her death my Mother was visited by astronauts, my father and her father (both of whom had been long dead), I wouldn’t have believed it. 

If not for the fact that I’ve heard countless stories of those near death seeing and having entire conversations with people who have already gone on, I wouldn’t have believed it. 

If not for the fact that I believe, I wouldn’t have believed it. 

Around this time Martin was being regularly visited at the nursing home by his brother, David, pictured here on the left with Martin. David had passed away five years earlier from cancer.

One night after hearing Martin tell me all about David staying for dinner, beers and a little TV at the nursing home, I went home and went online to ancestry.com, my favorite place to hang out when I really should be doing more important stuff. Something came over me. Feel free to hum the tune from “The Twilight Zone.” I started searching for Martin's people.

Armed with the names of his parents and grandparents, names and leaves started popping up. John, Martha, Maria, Elizabeth, Craig, David, Martin, Henry, Margaret, another John, a few more Craigs, a mess of Davids, and more Martins. Martin had told me that just everyone in his family was named either Martin, Craig or David. Turns out Martin and Craig are old family surnames. That night turned into early morning as I filled out the family tree with O’Donnells.

Around 1:45 a.m. as I was about to close down for the night, I felt those O’Donnells as sure as I’m sitting here typing. Every last one of my husband’s dead kin had crowded into my office. Even Fergus, our dog, who had been in a deep sleep looked around. Neither of us was afraid. In fact, it was quite the contrary. There was a feeling of complete serenity. Bliss.

They didn’t speak, but the message was clear. The path was being paved for their son, grandson, great-grandson, brother and nephew. Everything was going to be OK. That night the dog and I slept like babes.

Once the sun rose I emailed Martin's caseworker and asked for a meeting. At the meeting I told her exactly what happened and that my husband’s family was officially waiting for him. She has been in this line of work long enough dealing with the elderly and the dying to know that I was not a mad woman. She knew that I spoke the truth. We both knew--and accepted--that my husband was dying and with other members of his care team made appropriate adjustments to his treatment.

Later that night with O'Donnell family tree printout in hand I told my sleeping husband that I had been visited by his family. I named them all, detailing their relationship to him and to each other. I told him that they were looking forward to seeing him. 

A few days before he died, Martin had that burst of life that is so common before death and told me that his Granny, as he always affectionately referred to his maternal grandmother, had been by to see him. 

She had been there when Martin was born in her home during World War II. She had helped with his birth. It was only fitting that she would be there for her grandson’s death.