It might have been called a visitation in some sects, you know, when a supernatural being makes an appearance that we brush off as fantasy, but it really happened. He was a rational man not taken to such beliefs, I mean; he hadn’t a serious opinion one way or another. He was a good heart as was his wife. Then she died, quietly, and he was alone. They hadn’t slept together in years not for any reason but a small sacrifice for anything they’d done, might have done in the past that wasn’t the best decision, that could’ve been done better. I remember her saying how they’d decided and how they smiled at each other. Even at his age I think he might not have totally agreed with it but he loved her that much. It was ok. He didn’t sleep in his room so much these days. There was a very comfortable recliner in the living room right outside the room she’d chosen as her bedroom.
He said he was stirring that morning, the sun was blazing in through the windows and he began opening his eyes then realized she was standing there in a long white robe no less. She was looking around the room. He started and became fully awake as the recliner was snapped straight up into sitting position. He looked around but she was gone. I don’t remember if he’d said the living room wasn’t as bright, but the sun was still streaming through the windows.
His faced glowed whenever he told the tale. “I think she was checking to make sure I was keeping the place up. She’s keeping an eye on me. I’d better make sure I take care of things.” And he’d laugh.