We would go to visit my mother’s father every once in a while when I was younger, and whenever we would go to leave, he would walk us to the front door. We would then walk across the road, stand by our car, and wave goodbye. He would always be standing there waiting for us, waving back.

When my grandfather passed away, my mother went to his house to clean up (since he lived alone) and, as she left, she closed the door behind her, locked it, crossed the street, and got into her car. She said that, just out of habit, she looked up at the front door…where she SWEARS to this day that she saw my grandfather waving to his daughter for the last time.