Michelle, I firmly believe that people know when it's time. During her last days, they were going to let my grandmother out of the hospital, but she insisted that they keep her in for an extra 3 or 4 days. Then she made my aunt go to the cottage with the kids so they wouldn't be around. She died a few days later (on Canada Day 1987 - if you knew my grandmother and her passion for our country, you'd appreciate how perfect that was).
My dad spent the 4 days prior to his final heart attack searching for his organ donor card to make sure it was signed. Our last phone call ended with him telling me he loved me. Nothing odd about that, except that during my whole life I'd always been the first to say it. This time he said it first. I'd been battling strep throat for three weeks at that point (he was very worried about me) and this call took place on my first day back at work. Two days after that he found out that he was going to lose his foot (and as such, his autonomy and independence) to diabetes related gangrene. The next day he had a heart attack. He survived so many heart attacks during my life, had had a pacemaker since I was about 9 years old, we thought we'd lost him after a few of them when I was in my early 20s. This one, when I was 28, I believe he chose not to survive. I have always believed that he chose that moment because at the age of 75, he'd lived his life the way he wanted to and was not about to lose the ability to do that. It would have been heart-breaking for him.
So, Michelle, I know within myself that while we may not always choose the when, some part of us knows it's coming and prepares in the days prior. As if a special conduit opens between our souls and the universe/divine during those days.
Love and hugs,
