This is a story about my mom. See, she died in a car accident on February 11, 1985 while en route to the hospital to see me. (I was in there for premature labor) My daughter was born February 18, 1985, exactly 7 days after mom died.
I had talked the doctor's into releasing me so I could go to the funeral and be there for my dad and my brother and went back into labor only 6 weeks early this time. To make a long story short, they had to do an emergency c-section and I had some complications after the delivery (mainly with my blood pressure) and was unable to sit up on my own (much less stand up) for the first three days after the delivery. My daughter was in the intensive care nursery. When I was finally able to sit up I was taken down to the ICN in a wheelchair and the nurse looked at me and said " you must be Peggy's mommy". I hadn't seen my baby yet and said "yes, how did you know?" (thinking that my baby looked just like me of course). When the nurse responded with, "Oh, you look just like your mom" I was slightly taken aback. I asked her how she knew, seeing as how my mom had died the week before. She looked at me and said "oh, didn't your mom tell you she's been coming in and holding the baby every night?" Of course, I thought she was mistaken and she must mean my mother-in-law had been coming in so I didn't say anything.
Later that night, my mother-in-law came to the hospital and we went to ICN. The same nurse was there and I told her that Grandma decided to come early tonight. The nurse said, "oh, is this the other Grandma?" I was baffled by this time and asked her "isn't this who's been coming in at night and holding Peggy" The nurse said, no, and proceeded to describe my mom to a "t" and told me at that point that she had even stated that the baby had been named after her.
A few months later, May, to be exact, my dad, who is a truck driver, had an accident in his semi about 2 hours from home. He had called me to let me know he was ok but never told me where he was to come and get him. While at the hospital, the nurse came into his room and told him that his wife was downstairs and that she had said she had come to take him home. My dad told her it must be me because mom had died a few months earlier. She told him that the woman had definitely said she was his wife. When they went downstairs, the woman was nowhere to be seen, although several people saw her and described her, again, my mom to a "t". Anyway, I guess the "moral of the story" is that a mother's love never ends, even after death.