My two sons were born when their great grandmother was alive, but unfortunately she never got to meet either one. My husband's grandma went in for surgery and ending up contracting a raging infection from the hospital that killed her six weeks after they were born. She was a great lady, married sixty plus years to a sweet man who was the love of her life (he passed four years prior), loved my husband to pieces and was very invested in my pregnancy. I was very sad that my boys never got to meet their "Gigi."
Fast forward a year or so. My sons are twenty months old and just starting to talk. We're driving down a road and out of nowhere one son starts babbling "bobby! DeeDee! Bobby! DeeDee!"
We asked him who they were, but of course get no reply. We start joking about him being haunted.
This goes on, every so often little man starts talking about Bobby and DeeDee.
Then we to my mother in law's house. Little man toddles up to her fridge and peers at a picture of her parents she has hanging there.
It wasn't so much creepy as it was heartwarming, honestly. Especially that night as we ate at their favorite pizza parlor, and little man looked up and announced, "Bobby happy!"