At the age of eighty-three, Andy Golembiewski contracted prostate cancer, and in the summer of 1997 his condition took a noticeable turn for the worse. One night in August, he fell into a coma, and his grieving family gathered at his bedside, braced for the inevitable. When hope for an improvement in Andy’s condition had all but vanished after he had been unconscious for hours, his eyelids suddenly fluttered. His fingers began to quiver, and his body trembled. Then his eyes flew open, and they darted around the room with a gleam of lucidity. He propped himself on his arms, looked his granddaughter, Debra White, in the eye, and said loudly and clearly, “ 1…6…9….5.” Then, as suddenly as he had come alive, he died.

All his life, Andy was known as a kindly prankster and a warmhearted Good Samaritan. As owner of Andy’s Bar and Grill, a tavern in Lawrenceville, he was a neighborhood fixture with a reputation for playing pranks on his customers but not without lending them money when they were short. He believed, like a good Christian, that helping another in time of need was the greatest thing he could do.

His relatives didn’t know what to make of Andy’s deathbed message. They all agreed that Andy had appeared perfectly rational when he had uttered the four numbers. But…. numbers? What kind of message from the grave was that? “Those were the very last words he uttered,” said his daughter-in-law. “It wasn’t anybody’s birthday, phone number or address. Nothing seemed to connect.”

It was Andy’s son, Tony, who finally suggested that they play the Big Four Lottery which was being held the next day. And, to everyone’s surprise the family was celebrating a very impressive, lottery win of $23,500. “Andy!” his widow screamed, as the numbers were called up. “You’re so concerned about your family, you even paid for your own funeral.”

The win was ironic, his family told reporters because, during his lifetime, Andy was opposed to gambling and had never even once played the lottery. “He was a jovial prankster,” said his granddaughter. “He was so kindhearted,” another relative told a TV crew, “that he had to look out for his family even after he was gone.”

The doctrine of the communion of Saints refers to the connection that exists between the just who have died, and the living who are left behind. Scripture says: “the souls of the just are in the hands of God, and no torment shall touch them.” (Wisdom 3:1) Andy was in his heaven but his family still felt close to him and needed him. Is it all that hard to imagine that Andy, a lovable prankster in this life, was still looking out for his family from the next life. And, who is to say that God, like Andy, doesn’t have a sense of humor!

— Story provided by Tony Golembiewski