This is more of a strange story with a heart-warming ending, rather than creepy (IMO). I was a community health care worker for seven years, which involved visiting the homes of vulnerable adults and assiting with their daily lives. During this time I met many people, but one in particular stands out above the rest. His name was David. He was 72 years old and had suffered a severe stroke. Although he lived with his wife, she still worked and therefore I'd visit in order make him his breakfast and lunch and to basically keep him company throughout the day.
I was Davids first and primary careworker. Prior to his stroke he'd led an active lifestyle and had never had to rely upon others for help. For some people, that could be grounds to play the martyr or to complain, but he never did. In the five years that I spent as his carer, we built a great friendship. We both shared a love of film, cars, golf and travel, so would spend large amounts of time discussing those subjects. He was an avid golf fan and in the past he'd travelled extensivley around the USA and played some of the best courses in the country. He often expressed hope to take one last trip to America, but he knew that it was highly unlikley given the severity of his condition. Regardless though, he never gave up on his dream; "I'm going to sort out a trip to Pebble Beach, son. I just need to get some strength back in my legs first."
In 2011 I decided to embark upon a career change. I visited David for the last time and told him of my plans. He wished me luck and gifted me one of his favourite putters as a leaving present. I said I'd keep in touch, but as is so often the case, life got in the way and we drifted out of contact. Moving on several years, in 2017 I went through a bad break up. I lost my home and many of the things I'd worked so very hard to aquire. In short, I was in a bad place. One night, after a particularly heated argument with my ex, I decided to go out for a drive to clear my head. I drove around aimlessly, mulling things over and generally feeling sorry for myself. Eventually I found myself on the outskirts of a village that I hadn't visited in years. Either through fate or subconcious choice, that village was where David lived. I considered paying him a visit but decided against it because of the time. Instead, I parked up in a layby. I remember feeling so angry and upset that it was difficult for me to even comprehend how to fix things. Totally out of character for me, I lifted my head up to the sky and said out loud "If there's anyone, anyone at all up there looking down on me right now, please give me some idea of what to do with my life because I'm utterly lost."
I returned to an empty house. Stuck some food in the microwave and settled in for a night of crap movies and cheap wine. Then the house phone rang. Fully expecting it to be my ex, I grabbed the receiver and bluntly answered "Yes?!". "Hello, who's that?" the person replied. At first I didn't recognise the voice, but then it dawned on me; it was Davids wife. We were both utterly shocked. She didn't have the number for my new house and had dialled it by mistake after trying to contact someone else. As we talked she told me that David died the year before. He'd suffered another major stroke and it was too much for his body to cope with. However, just before he passed away, he got his last trip to America. He played golf and he loved every minute of it. Just as he'd always hoped he would.
Now, I don't know what if any supernatural forces were at work that evening, but what I do know is that I was given a message. I like to think that that message was - No matter what, never give up hope. Just like my old friend David.
Another thing that instantly stood out was when my ex pointed out one morning when doing her makeup in her mirror, for a split second she saw a reflection of what can only be described as a figure of an elderly man in the mirror who was sat behind & watching her - however as soon as she turned around the figure was gone.