My mother, Grace Winnifred Rowe. She was a Foster. Her aunt was our aunt Amy. So anyway, it was the calling hours before Aunt Amy's funeral. As we were going up the street, it was almost completely empty except for a couple getting into their car to leave, and we were up ahead of them near the building where she was lying in her casket. Then this voice that was characteristic of her, kind of a high-pitched voice called out: "Grace, Grace!" with great urgency to us.
I started winding my window down and slowing to see if I could hear anything more. The first thing my mother said was, "That's Aunt Amy!"
She couldn't hardly believe it. On the way home, I said, "This is strange!" But she didn't say very much. It just wasn't something in her experience, having a dead person talk to her. She was a bible-believing woman, and this was outside of anything she had ever experienced.
I've always remembered it.
Probably, she was just hovering over, seeing people she knew.
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