These things often happen to my family, but this is my favorite story, though I didn't experience it myself. It was a few days before my grandmother died. I was in her hospital room and she had just asked what was new that day. I don't know what came over me, but I started to sing. I sung about a beautiful bird that was just let out of its cage and was flying high into the sky.
Her pale lips drew a smile, and she told me how lovely it was.
A few days later we were in the waiting room (She had just gone into emergency care). I knew she would die that night. She was on a breathing machine and her heart was failing. I started to sing again, but my voice was cracked from crying to hard.
As I predicted, she died that night, that was when my angel came (see other story) and took her away.
Two weeks later my family and I were cleaning out all her things from her house. I heard my mom yell, and ran to the other room to see what was happening. On the mantle sat a beautiful purple martin staring at me. My dad came in and scooped it up, but it didn't struggle, it just let him pick it up.
My dad went outside and released the beautiful bird. I came out just in time to see it soaring high up into the sky. It flew on and on into the bright morning sun. I shaded my eyes to see it, but it had disappeared.
I never saw it again, but my granddad has told me that it flies around his head when he's mowing grass. Now, two martins are engraved on my grandmother's headstone.