The night my former fiance proposed to me, our town was in the middle of a black fly plague, and we spent the first five minutes in the (extremely posh, for college kids) restaurant slapping the bugs off of each other. The maitre de had a tiny broom and pan behind his station, and a new part of his job he never expected included sweeping up all the little bug corpses.

In my case it was a sign. :-)

The best part of things being signs is that you can choose to interpret them however you like, such as the marriage counseling being the metaphorical "darkest before the dawn".