My mum walked upstairs one evening, when she was 69, (as I am now,) and literally dropped dead from a heart attack. As it was so sudden, for some months I used to think I had seen her in the street, or spotted her shopping while I was in the bus going by.
The week after she died I had a dream that she was in a room full of people, just chatting and wearing her Mac and boots. I was in the next room, looking at this scene through the doorway. She turned and said “Don’t worry about me, I’m quite alright.” And I felt so comforted by that. I am not a very religious person, but have never forgotten it.