I would not call it exactly a premonition, but sometimes I know, somewhere in my gut, that certain things are going to happen.

I knew the day my mother tried to kill herself. I was at the bottom of the stairs, all dressed up to have my birthday lunch with my father, and when she replied to my “goodbye”, I just knew. Of course, I shoved it down and told myself I was being silly. But for a fraction of a second, it crossed my mind, I knew it was a possibility. I spent a lot of time in the years that followed trying to rationalize with my mind that it was not my fault, even if I had stayed home; she would have managed to do it another day. Not on my birthday, though, but maybe on Christmas.

The same thing happened on New Year’s Day 2020. I just called my father at 00:01, as I always did, to wish him a happy New Year, and when he picked up, I looked at him and I started crying. I knew somehow that was the last time. But my husband called my uncontrollable cries silly: after all, his detected cancer was not that bad, removable, and he would live for another 20 years. But he didn’t; he died 51 days later.

So now I know two things:
1) I need to trust myself. Even if there’s no logic whatsoever.
2) Cannot live my life looking for signs. I could get crazy just by trying, so it’s better to let the things I cannot control run free.