By Rosinna Black • January 2, 2019
I lost my husband just over 2 years ago.
He was older than me but gave me security and love for my two young children, after I had been through a horrendous marriage and divorce.
We bought a thatched cottage, something we discovered we both had dreamt of.
The name of the cottage was Christopher Robin, not after "Winnie the Pooh".
We lived there for 25 years and the evening after my husband's funeral I was alone in the lounge with French doors open to the garden.
There was a scratching sound and I looked towards the doors and a robin was bobbing around, then flew into the lounge, perched upon the tv in front of me, looked at me.
I was worried about him and moved and he then flew into the dining room and then upstairs into our bedroom.
I quickly opened the window onto our lovely garden and he flew out.
He seemed to know and feel comfortable in the cottage.
I knew then it was my late husband saying goodbye and that he was at peace.
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