A visit from DEATH
The dark presence wouldn’t leave me alone. But why?
It was September 2019 and I was doing a spot of DIY at home when I sensed a shadow behind me. My head snapped round to see who it was, but there was no one there.
Even though I couldn’t see anything, I could still feel a strange presence. It was as though a thick, dark cloak was enveloping me and, over the next few days, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that someone – or something – was with me.
I wasn’t scared, but it did feel oppressive and somehow ‘final’. Suddenly a thought hit.
‘It’s Death,’ I whispered to myself. ‘Death is coming.’
Who was it here for though? My husband Charlie, 57 and I were fine, as were our six children...
A face popped into my head: My granddad, Joe.
Granddad had been a huge part of my life growing up, but back in 2017 I’d left the Midlands where he lived, moving a three-hour drive away to Bridport in Dorset.
At first Granddad and I had still spoken regularly on the phone, but as his dementia had worsened our conversations had become harder. Now it had been six months since our last chat and the number I had for him had been disconnected.
I’m estranged from my family so I called Adult
Services in Worcester and found out that Granddad was in a dementia care home. I felt terrible as I hadn’t known.
The dark presence was still hanging around – I had to visit Granddad.
When I arrived at the care home Granddad didn’t recognise me, but I held his hand as tears streamed down my face.
‘No need for tears, duck,’ he told me kindly. I squeezed his hand and promised I’d be back.
I returned home, but the oppressive, dark feeling was still there, getting ever stronger. It was as if Death was walking alongside me, warning me Granddad’s time would be soon.
Just three weeks later, I got a call. It was the care home.
‘He’s very ill. You’d better come,’ a voice said.
I set off. I spent the next three days at his side, singing Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again to him.
‘You’ll see Nan soon,’ I told him, referring to my nan, Connie, who’d passed in 2013.
But still Granddad hung on. I longed for him to be free. Friends had told me to ask Archangels Michael and Gabriel for help, so I did.
‘Please take Granddad in peace and without pain,’ I asked them, before opening all the windows.
On that third evening, the energy changed in the room. I looked at Granddad and he took a final breath. He was gone, aged 91.
In that instant all the oppressive darkness lifted.
Death had gone and taken Granddad with him.
Two years on, I feel nothing but light and peace. I’m so glad Death came to warn me he was coming for Granddad. It gave me the chance to say goodbye.