My grandfather in the late 1930’s or early 1940’s had recently gotten divorced from his first wife. Feeling quite depressed, possibly suicidal, he laid on his bed in his apartment. Then, according to him, a mist crept underneath the door and rose at the foot of his bed. It’s form solidified into that of his mother. She glided next to him and said, “You’ll meet a good girl soon and it will work out”. She then touched his hand, he described it as ice against his skin, and she disappeared. He met my grandmother not long afterwards and they remained married until he passed away in 1983. It was a brief message to him. But it must have been what he needed to hear.