My Dad died when I was in my early 20s.
I lived and worked in London and my parents had moved to the south coast and I only went to stay for the weekend once every 6-8 weeks, by train. I had had a boyfriend (let's call him Mark) for about a year and, although Mum had met him on one of her trips to London, Mark and Dad hadn't met. Mum suggested to me that it would be nice on my next weekend visit that Mark could drive down on Sunday (no sleeping together under my parents' roof!) for Sunday lunch, so that he and Dad could meet, and then he and I could drive back to London together on Sunday evening.
Their local train station was less than a mile from their house, but sometimes I'd get the train (on a different line) to a station about 7 miles away because there was a nice hotel/pub close to the station where we'd sometimes have a drink/lunch. So it was agreed that I'd go to the further away station, Dad would come to meet me and we'd have a quick drink in the pub.
When I was on the train it stopped for a bit between the previous station and my stop. I was gazing out of the window over the fields when I had this strong feeling - not a voice in my head - but it said "it's too late, Dad and Mark will never meet, it's too late". The train started moving and the feeling just disappeared. Arrived at the station and Dad wasn't there, which was totally out of character. So I stood waiting expecting him to pull into the car park at any minute. Still no Dad, so I decided to go to the pub for a drink and to wait for him there - knowing that he'd find me in there.
Still no Dad. I went to the bar to buy a second drink and the barman, who had obviously seen me looking anxious and checking out everyone who walked in, asked if I was OK. So I told him that my Dad hadn't turned up to pick me up from the station and it was so out of character for him to be late. This was pre-mobile phones, so the barman offered the use of the phone on the bar to phone my Mum.
Mum was equally perplexed and said that Dad had left ultra early because he was going to the farm shop on the way to the station. She told me to stay put (rather than get a taxi).
It must have been just after she'd put the phone down to me that the police arrived on her doorstep to break the sad news that Dad had died by the side of the road. Apparently the car had broken down, he'd got out to look under the bonnet and (the PM confirmed) he had a heart attack and died.
I wonder if that 'feeling' happened at the same time he died?