Photo by William Hook on Unsplash

When My Father Died

Susan Scown

Before my father died, we had become very close. I had lived with him for a few years while I was sick and recovering and then while he was declining. My brother and his wife volunteered to have Dad come stay with them to give me a break.

After a few months, I considered taking a 3-week trip to Italy with my partner, but I was concerned that Dad might die while I was away. My younger brother came to visit my brother and his wife and my dad, and they all felt that Dad was doing well, so I went on my trip and my younger brother returned to his home in Hong Kong.

In the last week of my trip, on my birthday, I felt queasy all day — the only day in three weeks that I felt off. Also, on that day, I noticed a plane’s jet trail in the sky and thought, “Hi Dad.” (When I was living with Dad, we’d take a walk every day, and he always pointed out jet trails. I knew that in the future, I’d always think of him when I saw them). That was the only day in three weeks that I noticed a jet trail. Also on that day, my partner started calling me “Sport,” not a common thing to call your beloved, and something Dad had sometimes called me.

On that evening, I was unable to connect my call with my brother and his wife to find out how dad was doing. A couple of days later, we got to Milan and had a good phone connection. My brother told me that Dad had died late on May 21st, my birthday in the US.

That means I was feeling queasy, noticing the jet trail, and hearing my partner call me “Sport” while Dad was still alive back in the US. His death must have happened in the morning of the day after my birthday, Italy time. This means to me it was like something in the ESP category.

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