Читать книгу An Angel Called My Name: Incredible true stories from the other side - Theresa Cheung, Theresa Cheung - Страница 13

Eric was my soulmate and it was hard for me to contemplate life without him. We had been married for 25 years. We met when we were both 18. I can remember the first time I saw him. We were both invited to a mutual friend’s party. I was incredibly shy but this handsome, confident guy just came over and introduced himself. He made me laugh and we talked all evening. When it was time to leave he offered to walk me home.

That walk home was magical. It was snowing but I felt warm inside. Eric told me that the thing he hated most about winter was that the rose-growing season was over. He loved the smell of roses in summer. I can’t explain why but it was at that exact moment that I knew I was in love with him. Eight years later we were married. When we moved into our first home one of the first things we did was plant dozens of rose bushes in our garden.

I can honestly say we had a wonderful marriage; sure, we had our disagreements but the love between us was so strong it could conquer anything. We weren’t blessed with children but we were blessed with each other. Losing him after a two-year battle with prostate cancer felt like the end of the world for me. I stopped eating. I stopped going out. I wanted to die. I made a few fragile attempts to step back into life but I missed my Eric so badly I thought I would never be able to go on.

Then one night in the middle of winter I woke up and there was a heavy scent of roses in the air. I got up and went into the garden. There was thick snow covering the rose bushes and the ground was frozen. The scent was definitely coming from inside the house even though there were no fresh or dried flowers inside. As I went from room to room the scent seemed to grow stronger. It’s hard to describe, but I knew Eric was there with me using the scent of roses in winter to take me back to the moment I fell in love with him. He was trying to comfort me. He was sending me a message that I was still living and my life needed to go on. I started to cry because I knew that he wanted me to let go. As I made a silent promise to him to move on the scent vanished.

Although I shall miss Eric deeply until the day I die, the scent of roses that night gave me the strength I needed. It was his way of letting me know that he is watching over me. He had always said if there was a way to reach me after death he would; so he was just keeping his promise.

Stories of clocks stopping, lights flickering, alarms bleeping and music suddenly playing are other surprisingly typical ways for loved ones to let us know they haven’t left us. George shares his remarkable experience.