21 True Stories of People Who’ve Received Signs

from the Dead

Equal parts haunting and touching, these true stories will make you question
whether or not our dearly departed are as far from us as they seem.
BY JULIANA LABIANCA
< from https://www.rd.com/culture/stories-of-messages-from-the-dead/ >

Always there
On a crisp fall morning, my daughter Laura went to pose for her senior pictures with her brother
Josh’s bright green snowboard. Josh had died in a motorcycle accident the summer before, and
Laura, an avid snowboarder, wanted his board in the shot. The photographer knew the perfect -
backdrop—a vibrant graffiti wall in town. He peered through the lens, focused, and gasped. We
all looked up and read the words spray-painted on the wall above Laura’s head: “Big Bro Is
Watching.” What a beautiful reassurance that she has a guardian angel.
--Lynn Elsner, Missoula, Montana

A happy meal
We recently lost our beloved golden retriever Benny to cancer. In the year after his diagnosis, we
spoiled him with attention and food. A favorite treat was two fast-food plain cheeseburgers. The
day after Benny left us I went to the chain for lunch, thinking of Benny—chicken nuggets for me,
but this time, no cheeseburgers. When I got home I found in the bag my nuggets and a plain
double cheeseburger. The receipt revealed only the nuggets. I was stunned to tears, then laughter,
when I realized Benny bought us lunch together one last time.
--Thomas Richard Smith, Cranberry, Pennsylvania

Fate on a plate
My 21-year-old nephew Markie died of cancer in February of 2013. I was driving on the highway
on my way home from work one afternoon and, in between sobs, was talking to Markie. I asked
him to send me a sign that he was okay. At that moment, a silver Lexus got in front of me. My
nephew drove a Lexus. This is a coincidence, I thought, until I saw the license plate. It was a
vanity plate with the initials MHR—Markie’s initials. He heard me and answered. Thanks, buddy.
I love you.
--Robin McKeon, Plymouth, Massachusetts

Doing the dishes

I lost my son recently and was missing him terribly on my first Mother’s Day alone. We were very
close and even jokingly agreed to try to make contact if one of us died. Late that evening I heard a
loud noise downstairs. Upon investigation, I found a pile of holiday plates had fallen and
shattered. As I picked up the pieces, I found one plate completely unscathed. I turned it over and
was stunned to see that it said, “Happy Mother's Day.” That was my sign. Thank you, son.
--Carol Gavigan, Chicago Heights, Illinois

A timely call
My husband of 58 years passed away on December 9, 2014, the same day his mother died 41
years earlier. On the anniversary of his death in 2015, I received "thinking of you" flowers and
phone calls from friends and family. That afternoon, my phone rang twice and stopped.
Wondering who it had been, I checked the caller ID. To my surprise, it showed my husband's
name and phone number. I have never received calls like that before or after.
--Eva Dreucci, Washington, Pennsylvania
The solitary buck
On a warm day in January, I went to visit my father at the cemetery for his 72nd birthday. I sat
on the clay mixed with grass next to his grave, lay a rose, and told him about me. I pray each year
he is happy and proud of his littlest girl who never got to know her daddy. Suddenly, I felt a warm
touch on my back and looked upward to see a deer in the middle of the cemetery, solitary and
staring. My eyes wandered to his headstone where a buck is carved and I smiled a joyous smile. I
knew he was alright.
--Laura McKinney, Simpsonville, South Carolina

A gift from mom

While shopping, I noticed a credit card on the floor. I picked it up, went to the courtesy desk and
asked them to page the owner. I waited. No one came. They said that her cart was still there and
she had gone out to her car to look for her card. When she came back, I approached her and
asked if she lost something. She did, her credit card. I asked her name and established that it
matched the card, which I then gave her. She said she had prayed to her mother, who had passed
away recently, to help her find the card. We talked and I introduced myself. "My name is Claire,"
I said. She responded, "My mother's name was Claire."
--Claire Salem, New City, New York

Watching over camp

My grandpa passed away from lung cancer in October of 2015. We always liked to think of his
spirit as an eagle. Ever since my mom was a kid, it was a family tradition to go camping in
Canada every summer. So in 2016 my grandma took my sister and I to Canada. When we got
home, we looked on the campground website. There, on the homepage, was a picture of our
camper with an eagle perched on top. The caption said, "Eagle watches over camp." We knew
grandpa was there with us.
--Taylor Tynan , Appleton, Wisconsin

A birthday in the maternity ward

It was the first anniversary of my grandpa Victor's passing. I was at work, on the maternity floor
at a hospital, and had been thinking about him and missing him. Early in my shift I asked a
couple what they named their baby. It was Victor. I told them all about my grandpa and couldn't
believe the coincidence—in my 16 years of working in that environment I'd never met a baby
Victor. Coincidence, maybe, but when I met another couple later in my shift who had also named
their baby Victor, I knew it was my grandpa saying “Hi.".
--Julie Cleveland, Statesboro, Georgia

Send us butterflies
It was a January day in New England when our son passed away in a hospital bed. Our daughter
took his hand and said, "If you're at peace, let us know by sending butterflies." I knew the chances
were slim—it was too cold. The next morning in the mail was an envelope from a school in the
Midwest looking for donations. The first item we pulled out was a sheet of stick-on butterflies.
--Joseph Frederick, Barrington, Rhode Island

Fear of flying
The day had finally come and I was happily sitting on a plane to Arizona, excited to attend my
grandson's wedding. I was nevertheless a little apprehensive because it was my first time flying
alone since the death of my husband. I was on an aisle seat, and the woman across the aisle
offered me a piece of chocolate. I thanked her for her kindness, took the chocolate, and
unwrapped it. After doing so, I noticed the candy was engraved with the initials B.T., my late
husband. I knew then that the four-hour flight would land safely. My husband was with me.
--Carolyn Toth, Englewood, Ohio
Five-dollar footlong
It had been a long journey to our new home after my husband passed. One day my daughter and I
were out shopping and we got hungry. Looking around we spotted a Subway, one of his favorite
places to eat. Since we had not eaten there since my husband passed we decided to go in and get
something to go. Once inside, my daughter talked about how her daddy loved the five-dollar foot
long deals. We ordered and I paid the bill. As I opened the car door, I saw, in the driver's seat was
a crisp new five-dollar bill. "Daddy wants one in heaven," we both said at the same time.
--Cynthia Welty-Moss, Lubbock, Texas

A vacation from Mom

We were feeling gloomy a week after my mom’s funeral. She’d passed away from inflammatory
breast cancer. The phone rang and broke our silence. It was our priest. “You’ve won our raffle—a
vacation to St. Maarten!” Suddenly, I remembered that a few days after Mom’s passing, I found
an envelope on her desk. In her beautiful handwriting, it said, “Return to church by November
17th.” Inside were tickets for the church raffle. Honoring Mom’s wish, my father and I dropped
them off at church the next day. I told my dad this. He hesitated and said, “It’s a gift from your
mom.”
--Sharon Bette, Southbury, Connecticut

The other side

“I love you, Kat,” my dad said over the phone. “I love you, too, Daddy,” I replied. That night, I
dreamed I was on a forest path while a raven watched me from a tree branch. Daddy stood to my
right in a trance, our hands linked. Ahead of us, a tunnel radiated prismatic rainbow-colored
light. Soothing. We walked toward it. Then I heard my mother’s voice. “Kat, wake up. Daddy’s
gone. Daddy’s dead!” I sat up in bed. The hot August sun shone through my windows. “I know,” I
said, realizing. “I was with him when he crossed over.”
--Kathryn Camgemi, Concord, Massachusetts

Never alone
The first time my daughter drove home alone to western Kansas from Columbia, Missouri, she
was scared to death. As she approached Kansas City on the icy interstate, she suddenly looked up
at the skyline and saw a huge sign. “YOU ARE NOT A LOAN,” it said. She said she laughed out
loud and felt like her prayers were answered. The four-hour trip took seven hours, but the bright
spot of that bank advertisement set her mind at ease.
--Helen Shubert, Wichita, Kansas

A striking tribute
In 2008, I lost my husband of 38 years. Anyone who knew him knew he loved the American bald
eagle. On that crisp October day, as the pallbearers were somberly carrying my loved one to his
final resting place, my sister caught my attention. She pointed up, and high above the casket were
three large birds. As if on cue, one peeled left and one went right. There in the center, soaring
higher and higher, was the most beautiful bald eagle I had ever seen. Our minister looked at me
knowingly and smiled.
--Eleanor Smith, Calumet, Iowa

Cadence
It was the first anniversary of our only daughter's death. Jillian had died of cancer at three years
old after a grueling series of treatments. My husband and I decided to spend the weekend at a
bed and breakfast because it was too painful to stay at home. I awoke to the sensation of being
shoved out of bed. The message in my head, “Take a pregnancy test. You’re pregnant with my
sister.” I did. I was. We named her Cadence to remind us to return to the rhythm of life.
--Sylvia Johnson, Tampa, Florida
Memories of Mozart
My father was a longtime Mozart enthusiast. When he died we played only Mozart at his
celebration of life. I notified the university alumni association of his death for listing in the
alumni bulletin. I received a letter from the association stating that in my father's memory a
bookplate was placed in a newly purchased library book about Mozart. My family was astounded;
the university had no way of knowing how my father felt about Mozart. We contacted the library
person who had made the bookplate selection and discovered the decision was made completely
at random.
--Raymond Green, Mesa, Arizona

A rockin' Christmas tree

My stepfather Marlin bought a dancing Christmas tree in the mid-2000s as a gimmick
decoration. Marlin passed away in 2014. My sister, Stacy, had taken possession of the tree along
the way. Stacy got engaged to her longtime boyfriend on Thanksgiving night (Marlin had met
him). The tree was unpacked, but had no batteries. Later that evening, with all the women sitting
around talking, the tree lit up and started to dance! The empty battery pack was in hand and the
only conclusion we could reach was that Marlin was sending his blessing and dancing a jig.
--Norman Powers, Sheffield, Alabama

A soldier’s surprise
It is spring of 1943 during World War II. Standing among hundreds of new soldiers at Camp
Grant, in Illinois, my father, Sam, just 18 years old, waits as a truck slowly drives by. A full field
pack is randomly tossed to each soldier. “How strange,” my father thinks, as he sees his last
name, Litrenti, marked on each item in his pack. “How did they know it was me when they tossed
the pack?” He was impressed! Beating all odds, my father was tossed a field pack from World
War I—his own father’s.
--Gail Litrenti-Benedetto, Park Ridge, Illinois

The watching woodpecker

My husband had passed tragically and unexpectedly the night before. I returned home the next
morning with my sister-in-law, my emotional support. We sat in the upstairs loft, sharing stories
about a man who’d left us too young. I glanced out the window and noticed a woodpecker on the
roof. It appeared to be watching us. A member of a species rarely seen here, the bird sat for
almost 20 minutes as we reminisced. I affectionately named it after my late husband. It has been
five years since he passed, and a woodpecker continues to appear at my weakest moments. --
Shannon Neuhaus Rozewicz, Sussex, Wisconsin