I walked in on my mother having a full-on chat with my dad who’d passed away 6 months before. She lived with me and I was her caregiver, but she wasn’t ill. One morning I went up to say good morning to her, same as every day, but this time she scolded me for interrupting a private conversation with my father. I apologized, said, “Hi, Dad!” and left quickly to eavesdrop on the other side of her door. Although she wasn’t saying much and as talking too quietly for me to understand, she was really excited, all giggly and animated. She mostly paused for long periods, obviously listening intently to something I couldn’t hear.

Later, when I came back to check on her, I asked what dad was up to. She nonchalantly answered that he looked just like when they first met, had ditched his wheelchair and was having a “blast”. A little shaken, I asked if he’d mentioned where he was and she said, “He didn’t say but he said I’d love it. It’s beautiful and everyone we know is there, all dressed up and dancing to the best band he’s ever heard. He’ll be here soon to pick me up.” Dad also told her she could have all the dresses and jewelry she wanted. He told her she wouldn’t believe the jewelry — it was “jaw dropping.” My mother loved dressing up and my father liked to use that expression.

In the afternoon, I found her humming and doing a little packing. She was getting a few things together before dad picked her up. That broke my heart but I had to smile because it was so cute how happy she was. I left the younger version of my mother to carry on.

A few days later she fell, fractured her hip and lost consciousness by the time I could catch up to the ambulance at the hospital. She was soon transferred to hospice where she lingered for a couple of weeks. I spent every day and most evenings with her. While she was being transferred to hospice, I went home to gather some essentials for her there. On her bed, I found a little carry bag she’d readied for the trip with dad. It held everything I’d planned to take, already neatly packed and patiently waiting, just like her. All I had to do was pick it up and take it to her but that had to wait for me to stop sobbing.

My brother spent as much time with her as he could but after a while could spend less time away from his family and work commitments. We’d begun to hope she’d recover after hanging in there so long — she’d surprised everyone at the hospice twice before by popping up and walking out so we thought it was a real possibility. The doctor and nurses could no longer give us a ‘number,’ and we all prayed that her pendulum would swing back to us.

I was surprised to see my brother show up one morning after telling me he wouldn’t come by that day. He smiled and kissed Mom’s forehead, said hello to her, then crossed the room to where I was sitting. Just as he was explaining how his first appointment had rescheduled, I stood and walked toward Mom for no particular reason. Before I could reach her, I watched as she took her last breath. She slipped away when she was ready and she’d waited just long enough for my brother to arrive. It was exactly 6 months to the day dad died. They always did like a well-executed plan and their fingerprints (so to speak) were all over the timing of several events that day.

Years later and after countless hours of thought, I began to understand that Mom hadn’t been hooked up to oxygen and wasn’t lying motionless in a hospice bed at all. She just needed a little extra time to select the prettiest dress with the most jaw-dropping jewels before stepping into an endless night of dancing with her husband, family and old friends.

Very few of us have stepped through the veil that separates life from death and none of us understand fully what that means. Those who have, say it is beyond description, without end. The rest of us can’t even imagine what to imagine. But there is evidence of it all around us, often explained away as coincidences or such by those of us who believe only what can be seen or proven. I think coincidences are really just the winks of an amused universe. Anyone who thinks dead means done needs to pay closer attention. The spiritual realm or whatever that means likely does choose to dip back into our clumsy world on occasion, but I hope whoever or whatever is cruising around out there has many more interesting things to do than peer into the muck down here.