After my good friend died in an electrocution accident that I witnessed, it took me a long time to get over the shock. I missed him, but I was also suffering from the trauma of seeing his tragic end.
A few months later, my recovery was on track, and I felt better. I was in a car with another friend one day, and it was night. There was a slight drizzle, but otherwise, it was a pleasant evening. My friend, the driver, had to make a call and stopped the car to use a phone box. He stood in the phone box, facing me, and I occupied myself by looking around to pass the time. I saw someone emerge from the right and stroll in front of the car, passing across the headlights. I looked closely, and I froze; it was my friend who passed from the electrocution accident. I am sure that it was him; there was no mistake. He walked on casually and did not turn to look or acknowledge my presence. I watched him head towards parked cars on the left, and then he vanished. I was stunned, to say the least, and sat there fixated at the spot where I last saw him. My other friend returned to the car, looked at me, and asked me what was wrong. I hesitated at first but told him what I saw. He did not doubt my story, acted maturely, and did not dismiss my experience as imagination.
“Maybe it was his way of letting you know he is ok.”
That statement rang true to me and, in a way, comforted me. My last memory of him was distorted due to the severe physical trauma from the electrocution. I took solace in that he was fine, in a better place, wherever that place may be.
(The photo is from a stock repository and does not reflect the characters in this post)
