My Grandma passed away 20 years ago. She was 96.
At the time, she needed round-the-clock care and my Dad was her primary carer.

My uncle used to live with her too, until he passed away a few years earlier. So when he died, my Dad took over her care.

One weekend, I went to give my Dad a break and stayed over.

She had a little doorbell button next to her bed to call for help in the night if she needed anything.

I was sleeping in my uncle’s old room.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a heavy scratch down the back of my neck. It startled me. I jumped out of bed, heart racing.

I ran into my Grandma’s room and found her halfway out of the bed, hands bracing on the floor, trying not to fall.

She looked at me and said, “Help me.”

I rushed over and lifted her back in.

I said, “Why didn’t you ring your bell, Grandma?”

She said, “I tried… but I lost my balance.”

To this day, I know 100% it was my uncle who scratched my neck to wake me up.

A week later, my cousin (his daughter) rang me out of the blue. She said she’d been woken up in the night by a sharp scratch down the back of her neck… and she was convinced it was her dad.

She’d leapt up, only to find her son was sleepwalking, about to fall down the stairs.

I hadn’t told her about what happened the week before.

It just didn’t feel right at the time – like, “Oh yeah, same here!”
It would’ve sounded flippant.

I just said, “I believe you. I believe it was your dad. 100%.”