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Witness: Erin O'Neill Polson
Location: Monticello, Arkansas
Date of Encounter: May 18, 2002

I was visiting with my mom one month to-the-day after my dad passed — he passed on the 18th of April. He had a heart attack while on his way to pick up my daughter for the weekend. We had just turned on to the road where he managed to pull his van over during his heart attack when the song "When a Man Loves a Woman" came on the radio. The funny thing is the radio was off. I looked at my husband and said "That's odd," — the radio wouldn't shut off. This was mom and dad's "song" and it was played at his funeral service. My dad also wanted "Another One Bites the Dust" by Queen played, but I couldn't find it. (What can I say, we're Irish, we like to joke.)

As soon as we reached the house, the radio went off. I asked my husband if he felt something. He said, "Yea." I think we have an extra passenger. Once inside the house, we checked the caller ID and I had begun to clean up the house a bit. Mom walked up the hall and the stereo unit came on by itself playing the same song again. The smell of my dad's cologne seemed to fill the room, and mom wasn't wearing it. I took this as a time to close my eyes and pretend that things were back as they should be — not very mature, but it was an escape. We stayed that night with my mom. At exactly the same time dad usually awoke — 4:30 AM, I was awakened by the board popping in the hall outside their bedroom door. I could feel and hear my dads heavy foot steps walking up the hall. No one else was up, and I was half-asleep — I thought to myself, "It was all just a horrible dream. Daddy's alright." I sleepily made my way up the hall. I was going to give him a big, tight hug and a kiss. When I reached the lit living room I looked around and he was nowhere to be seen. I sat in his chair and to my surprise it was warm as if he had just gotten up, but he was nowhere in the house. I choked up and said, "I love you, daddy, and I miss you." Then I went back to bed and snuggled up next to my husband.

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