I sat bolt upright in bed, my heart racing, that not totally unfamiliar creepy-crawly feeling on the back of my arms from the adrenalin. What was it? A sound? A dream? A dream…yes. And a bad one. Another bad one. I turned to my right and he was there, resting peacefully, one arm carelessly slung above his head. Mr. Virgo’s chest rose and fell with the rhythm of deep sleep. I realized I was holding my breath. I sighed, let the tension release from my shoulders and headed for the kitchen. In the dim light, I saw it was 2 o’clock. The moon was a waning crescent…just a sliver hanging in the cold March night. I ran a glass of water and stared out the window.

These dreams started the week before. They were all the same. I was on the phone telling people that Mr. Virgo was gone. Dead. Just…gone. I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes then reminded myself, it was just a dream, Ginny. Go back to bed. So, I did.

On Monday, March 11th, Mr. Virgo was especially tired. He took a nap on the couch and as I walked by, his mouth was gaped wide open.

“This is how he will look when he’s dead.”

Jesus. Where did THAT come from? My grandma used to say “I felt a goose walk over my grave.” I wanted to shake him to make sure he was alive. I let him sleep.

On Tuesday, March 12th, we drove to Grand Junction to look at travel trailers. On the way down we held hands. He lifted mine up and looked at his wrist.

“Huh…I forgot to wear my watch this morning.”

My heart leapt to my throat as a thought popped clearly into my head.

“Oh, my God….he’s going to die today!”

I swerved a little. He didn’t notice. I looked over at him in alarm. He was fine. He was telling me something about the Civil War. He was a history buff. He caught me looking at him and smiled. He told me he loved me.

What was I supposed to say? “We need to stop at the store on the way home, honey. And oh, by the way, I’ve been dreaming you’re going to die. Probably today, because you didn’t wear your watch.” I was helpless. I prayed for God to protect him. I prayed I was crazy. I bargained and told God He could have me. Or I’ll take the Ford back and we won’t buy a trailer. Anything. But the clock kept ticking and Mr. Virgo inched ever closer to his fate. There was nothing any of us could have done to stop it.

And four hours later he was, indeed, gone.