Holding my mum’s hand by her hospital bed, tears filled my eyes. My mum, Marie, 65, was dying of ovarian cancer after years of gruelling chemo.
‘If there’s any way I can get a message to you after I pass, I will,’ she promised.
‘Thanks Mum,’ I said.
Then she slipped into a coma. The doctor warned it was permanent.
‘She won’t respond and will pass within days,’ he said gently.
But a few hours later, Mum squeezed my hand. Her eyes flicked open and she whispered, ‘Marie Schreiber visited me today.’
Thinking she was confused, I said, ‘But you are Marie Schreiber, Mum.’
‘No,’ she said, sitting upright. ‘Marie visited me, and she is waiting for me.’
Then she slumped back into her comatose state.
‘She just spoke!’ I…
