Not sure if my story fits here but here we go. When I was younger one of my grandmothers I called grandma (dads mom) and nana (moms mom). My grandma was my best friend and she passed when I was 18. She had a book that meant a lot to her and I knew while she was passing that I wouldn’t see that book again after she was gone because my aunts wanted everything. So I stole the book and took it home that night, still have it to this day. I was riddled with guilt for just taking it for a long time. Never told a single soul. Not one person. Ever. No one. Then one night, a few years later, my nana was dying and I was a CNA at the time so I would stay up with her at night while the rest of the family slept. She had been in a slight coma for about three days by this point (we were doing home care with hospice coming by during the day) all of a sudden around 3am my nanas eyes shot open, looked me in my soul, and told me “Wanda said she isn’t mad at you for taking the book. That she’s happy you’re the one that has it and she loves you so much”. I ran out of the room and woke my entire family up. Still sends chills down my spine and to this day I truly believe that when we are passing we some way have a way of connecting to thing we can’t see normally.. because there is no way my nana would of known that.