Stories

Mom Delivers Messages Through Grandchild, Touch, Greeting Cards

Email from Sarah Choukalas of Arizona

My mom suddenly passed away in March of 2014. I was 12 weeks pregnant with my second child. Two very distinct things happened on the day of her death that let me know my mom was still with us, even though her physical self was gone. Many more have happened since.

My mom died in my childhood home while getting ready to come to my house to watch my daughter. (She had been her caregiver since my daughter was 6 weeks old and my husband and I went back to work.) When someone dies in the home, the emergency response team sends in a Crisis Response Team, and that day it consisted of two women. When they introduced themselves, my husband and I stared in shock…one of the women was named Sawyer. That was to be the name of our unborn child if we found out it was a boy. My mom knew our name choice and had maintained I was pregnant with a boy because it was a very different pregnancy from my first, a girl. My mom was telling us to expect a boy (which, two weeks later, we found out was true!)

That evening, after handling the funeral arrangements my family went to dinner. As we loaded up in our vehicle, I closed my door, and my daughter suddenly starts singing from the backseat, “I love you, yea, yea, yea! I love you, yea, yea, yea!” to the tune of the Beatles “She Loves You.” To my knowledge, my daughter had never heard that song, and since the words were different, I know it was my mom speaking through her.

Much later my mother-in-law shared with me that the day after my mom’s death, my daughter was staying with my mother-in-law and my daughter had three out-of-body experiences. The first time she fell onto her back on the bed, glassy eyed and repeated three times, “I can’t breathe” and was nonresponsive to my mother-in-law. The second time she fell on the floor, on her side with an arm under her head (how my dad found my mom when she died), and glassy eyed/unresponsive, repeated three times, “I can’t breathe.” The third and final time, she fell on her side, glassy eyed/unresponsive and took three large breaths in and out.

My mother had told close friends she wanted me to have a C-section with the birth of my son because I had such complications with my first. The day he was to be born, I was petrified because he was early and there were complications with labor. I suddenly felt her in the room, come up behind me, put her hands on my shoulders and just calm me. She didn’t say anything, just her presence was felt, and I immediately was comforted and ready for whatever happened. Moments later, my doctor came in to say they were going to do a C-section. My son was healthy, though early and spent weeks in the hospital, but he’s been fine ever since and is the sweetest, smiliest, cuddliest baby ever.

At Christmas, my mom’s brother’s wife found a Christmas card my mom had written her 43 years ago. (My aunt had made gift tags out of old Christmas cards, and when she pulled this particular one out, something told her to flip it over.)There was a note from my mom written to my aunt, but applying to present day. Saying she missed seeing us, she was very happy, and other things. That’s what got me through the holidays, being reminded she was still around.

Other things have happened in the past year: finding pennies at specific times; my mother-in-law finding a handwritten card in her house from my mom that none of us put there; my dad finding a handwritten note from my mom in a secret hiding place (that had been previously empty); my daughter seeing her in our house and mentioning her often (she was only 2.5 when my mom died, but she still remembers her and speaks her name a lot); my niece finding a Coca Cola with the “Share a Coke with Patricia” on the side (my mom’s favorite drink and her name); my husband hearing “What a Wonderful World” on the radio each time he got in the car the day after she passed (one of their favorite songs together).

I always thought there might be some sort of afterlife, but this past year has truly solidified my belief. I know my mom is still around and still letting us know she loves us. I am so thankful for these little touches she gives us, because I miss her so much it hurts, but I think if you’re open to these connections from deceased loved ones, it helps to ease the pain a little bit.

Family Credits Departed Son As Christmas Tree ‘Dances,’ Lost Glove Reappears

An email from Sheilah Ream of Pennsylvania:

I lost my son, Samuel on Nov. 23, 2014. He died unexpectedly, in his sleep. He was 36 years old and adored by his family and friends. Our family of four sons, my husband and I are extremely close.

Three weeks after he died my husband was home alone. He was looking at the Christmas tree and an ornament that Sam had made as a child with a smiling photo of him, thinking of how happy he looked, when the top half of the 8-foot tree began to bend, move and shake as if it was dancing! He watched for a while and left and returned two more times, and each time the tree danced for him.

That same month my husband lost a leather work glove outside, no sign of it after much searching. On Sam’s birthday in January, the glove turned up on the floor in the middle of a room.

Some of his close friends and his brother had “dreams” of seeing and hugging him, talking to him and then waking up and still feeling the hug he had given them.

We visited Northern California in August 2015 to spread his ashes in the Redwood forests and Pacific Ocean, where he always wanted to visit. After spreading his ashes in the ocean on a huge deserted beach, totally devoid of stones, shells etc., I looked down to find an inch-wide pure white stone in the perfect shape of a heart. I know he left it there for me. These are a few of the signs that my Sammy sent us. They comfort me, and I have totally believed that our love is a connection that will remain forever. I have felt that your book was an affirmation of what I and my family have experienced and are very glad you wrote it. Many thanks.

Sister’s Christian Faith Strengthened by Brother’s Messages

Email from Scarlett Meadows of Nashville, Tenn.:

My brother died of a massive heart attack at age 42, the day before his 43rd birthday. He and our mother shared a love of football. Green Bay football, to be exact. A couple of weeks after his death in 2011, Green Bay went to the Super Bowl. The first player to score, was Nelson (Jordy Nelson of Green Bay). The very next score of the game was Collins (Nick Collins of Green Bay). My brother’s name……Nelson Collins.

Also, my mother, after the funeral, was sitting in Nelson’s childhood room (which he had spent a week in visiting about 1.5 weeks earlier), when she smelled tobacco smoke. Nelson smoked quite a bit. She had an overwhelming sense of his fear — that he didn’t know what was happening. She told him (through her tears) to “go with the Angels, it is okay to go.” The smell left, and the sense of fear.

I am reading your book and really enjoying it. We have a strong Christian faith. I faltered in my faith and even a cancer diagnosis of my own did not strengthen it. But when my brother died suddenly I had overwhelming joy and renewed belief in Heaven and God’s grace for His own. I do not believe that everyone has a “peaceful” afterlife, but those with faith do. My brother was not a church-goer. He was a believer. And he is with Jesus. Thank you for your book!

A Skeptical Dad Reaches Across the Veil

An email from Tobie Hewitt of Rochester, New York:

I went to The Hand on the Mirror website to post this email to you when I saw that your husband had transitioned to the other side. I am very sorry for your loss and send you healing, peace, light, and love as you traverse this bend in your path. I have decided to send on the letter below in hopes that you find some comfort in further confirmation that “death” is not an ending, just a move to new surroundings.

After hearing your story on CBS Sunday Morning, it was with great interest that I read your excellent book. As you shared your walk through that difficult and edifying journey, I became more and more aware that my story is one you might appreciate. You see, I have spent my entire life as a mystic and a writer.

As a spiritual girl in a physical world, I have dedicated my life to helping others realize that they are spirits, embodied on this earth to learn from the experience and that they do not need to fear the transition known as death. By spreading this awareness, I hope to contribute to a more peaceful and cohesive world.

I write a daily blog (tobiehewitt.wordpress.com) to share with others ways in which they, too, can live a more “spirited life.” I have written several books on this topic. You might find my autobiographical book, Simple Gifts: Living a Spirited Life, interesting in light of your quest for information and truth about our survival after the transition known as “death.”

When my father, a scientist, passed away, his belief was that death was an end, that there was nothing after the final breath. An hour and a half after he transitioned, he started communicating with me in very concrete and recognizable ways. My mother, who had been in total agreement with my father’s belief that death was the end, sent, after her recent passing, a message through a medium that contained very specific and verifiable information that could not have come from any other source.

My entire life has been surrounded by the reality of the spiritual world. I look forward to sharing my journey with you.

Namaste!

 

Powdery Wings, and a Civil War Soldier Comes in a Dream

An email from Donna Highfill:

Thank you so much for your courage and honesty displayed in the telling of your story. I’ve recommended your book to several woman 50+ who have whispered their stories to me. I am a consultant with financial companies and have had experiences on and off all my life.

Six years ago, around the age of 50, I received “wings” on my car made of the same white powdery substance you described, with such feathered detail even my atheist aunt (a professor at UConn) said the only way it could have made that print was to be burned into the glass. Even though the powder was light, it took weeks for it to totally go away. My husband scraped it off with our first ice storm. (I accused him of erasing God right off my windshield.)

Donna Highfill_resized

A couple of years later, I came home to a drawing made in the dirt all over my large driveway . . . with no footprints in the dirt – it was all circles and triangles — and we have no neighbors. I also had water appear on my front door after walking out of it, and when I took a picture you could see half a face and feathers. Needless to say, your story made me feel “normal.” I keep working and try to stay quiet when a spirit shows up in my bedroom, or I have a dream where a man yells a name three times that I find out three years later was a Civil War leader in a battle where my house sits. Thank you, most of all, for being an intelligent woman willing to share your story.

Dog Knew When Owner Died in Hospice

Email from Valerie A. Morgan of Virginia, edited for length:

Valerie Morgan photoMy story involves the passing of my father. He died from esophageal cancer (like Max.) Dad was diagnosed right after he and mom had their 50th wedding anniversary in November 2010. He fought for almost two years until the cancer surrendered him. I being in Virginia and my parents being in New Jersey, I traveled almost every two weeks those two years. One day I said to my Mom, “I keep having pain in my left chest area slightly lower than my heart.” She said, “Your father is having pain there constantly, too.” Mine stopped when he passed — not to say I still don’t get a twinge every now and then. (I’m empathetic. This is hard to have as I teach exercise for a living and the extra “pains” are a nuisance.)

The night of Oct. 2, 2012, I was in a hospice room with my father and oldest daughter. We knew it would be soon. Even though his eyes were closed and he was breathing heavy, I could always get him to move his body as I spoke to him. (Hearing is last). This night I could not get him to twitch. I looked at my daughter and said, “He’s not here.” Ashley left at 10:30 p.m. to stay with mom for the night, and I stayed in the room with dad. Next morning Mom came in. She said, “Last night Corbin (chocolate lab, 11 years old) stared at pop’s chair for like 15 minutes and never took his eyes off.” I said. “What time? At 10 p.m.?” She said, “Yes.” I said, “Dad was there. That’s when I told Ashley Dad’s not here.”

My Dad did not want to go. He was worried about mom and Corbin. He was checking in on them.

The night of Oct. 3, my brother, aunt and mom all stayed late that night. They left at 10 p.m. I stayed with Dad. I got tired and told Dad, “I’m going to fall asleep.” My eyes would not stay open. I asked him if he would stay with us until Oct. 4, to please stay with me and not to leave on my 50th birthday. At 11:24 p.m. Oct. 3, I got waked up by the hospice nurse. She said my father was on his last breath. I jumped up, held his hand and watched him take his last breath at 11:25 p.m. I ran to the nurse. “Don’t call my mom. I have to go get her.” But Mom was already on her way. When Mom came in the double doors, all she could say was, “You’re not going to believe this. Corbin went berserk, barking crazy front door to back door, THEN THE TELEPHONE RANG. IT WAS THE NURSE TO TELL MOM DAD PASSED.” I said I knew Dad would come to you and Corbin first.

Since then, Mom has had dream/twilight states of dad calling her name. Corbin would go into stares at Dad’s chair. A plate fell off a wall. It had been there for over nine years (Dad put it there), and no one was in the room. A bad one was when a glass shattered when my brother was over pouring water into it. The next weekend I drove up and went to Dad’s urn and said, “KNOCK IT OFF. Someone is going to get hurt.”

Several other things happened, but one I’ll never forget. In July 2013 I was bringing my youngest daughter to grad school in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, a seven-hour drive, her in one car, me in the other alone (I thought). She was fidgeting a lot behind the wheel. I was going crazy yelling, “BRENNA, TWO HANDS ON THE WHEEL. PAY ATTENTION,” then all of a sudden a voice flashed through my head, “SHUT UP!” Then I listened. “Paradise” by Meatloaf, my Dad’s favorite song, was playing on the radio. (We played it at Dad’s funeral.) I sighed big and said, “Dad, Dad, you’re here,” sighed again, then said, “Please go sit with Brenna.” I pulled off to a rest stop, told Brenna what just had happened, and she said, “Okay, but I just hope I don’t see him cause I’ll crash.” I was calm the rest of the 3½-hour trip.

A Handprint on a Sofa Is Just the Latest Sign for Rebecca Mattox

In some ways, The Hand on the Mirror felt like a familiar story to Rebecca Mattox of Byhalia, Mississippi.

She says her husband David, who died of cancer on Christmas Eve 2009, leaves messages for her all the time. And she is sure he left the handprint on her micro-suede chair – very much like the footprint that Janis Heaphy Durham found on a suede chair at her home in Idaho several years after her husband, Max Besler, died in 2004.

Rebecca Mattox said she was spring cleaning in April 2015 and took the blanket off the back of her favorite chair and put it in the washing machine. After it dried, she was putting it back on the chair and noticed a handprint on the chair, right above the spot where her head rests. She is certain it wasn’t there when she removed the blanket. She took a picture and put the blanket back in its spot on the chair. A few days later, the handprint was gone.

Rebecca-Mattox-hand

“People might say the handprint was mine, but I have different lines in my palm, and it was bigger than mine,” Mattox, 67, said in a phone interview with Illumination.

This wasn’t the first time strange things have happened to her.

“I leave my bathroom door open all the time,” Mattox said. “For a while, that door would be closed. I’d open it and push it against the wall and come back, and it would be closed. One night, I opened the door and put a shoe in front of it. I said, ‘Would you mind leaving the door open, David?’ They say once you acknowledge what they’re doing, they’ll stop doing that and go on to something else.”

She would leave her bedroom door open a crack so her basset hound Molly could come in and ask to be let outside. One evening as she lay in bed watching TV, she saw the door opening. She got up assuming Molly would want to go out, but when she opened the door, Molly was sound asleep across the living room.

Mattox has had phone calls at 2 a.m. with nothing on the line but white noise. When she hung up, the phone would ring immediately, too fast even for someone on speed redial. She let the calls go to voice mail, but there was dead silence. Only when she answered the phone herself did she hear white noise.

David Mattox was a big practical joker, and he’s continued his pranks from the other side, Rebecca Mattox said. She and David had a running joke about her wedding ring because she had always said she didn’t care if all she got was a cigar band. And since his death, she has found cigar bands sitting in the middle of her dresser, with no idea how they got into her house.

David was a big smoker before he got cancer and developed heart problems. “I smell cigarette smoke and just say, ‘Go outside, David. No smoking in the house.’ I joke with him all the time.”

She said she has had encounters with departed loved ones — and a few spirits she didn’t know — for much of her life

She was very close to her Uncle Floyd. After he died, she often felt his presence. At one point, she was getting ready to leave her first husband and was sleeping alone. “I thought I was dreaming, but yet I wasn’t. I saw my uncle, in his gray slacks he always wore to church and a white shirt. He came through the front door, put his arms around me, and I could feel them. Uncle Floyd said, ‘what you’re about to do is okay. It’ll be all right.’ He was telling me, ‘You’re doing the right thing.’ ”

When she moved in with David, he kept complaining that nothing ever happened at his house until she arrived. Things would disappear and show back up again. The TV would change channels on its own, and the remote wouldn’t work when she tried to change it back. One evening it switched from a cooking show to the NBA playoffs.

“David said, ‘Did Floyd like basketball?’ I said, “Yes, he died during the playoffs!”

Not every unusual event has made her laugh. When she and David were shopping for a new home outside Memphis, they visited a very old house for sale in Somerville, Tennessee. A neighbor told them that a railroad used to run by the house, and people sometimes still heard a train whistle. The neighbor said she had seen people looking out the window of the empty house.

While Mattox was in the bathroom of the home, the doorknob started to rattle. “I said, ‘Okay, okay, I’m coming. Let me wash my hands, and I’ll be out.’ I thought the Realtor and the others with me were sitting in the kitchen. They were sitting outside, away from the house. I said, ‘Why were y’all bothering me?’ They said, ‘We’ve been out here the whole time.’

She said David told her, “I’m okay living with Uncle Floyd, but I’m not sure about living with someone I don’t know.”

They didn’t buy the house.

David was diagnosed with colon cancer at age 60 and lived for a year and a half before it spread to his liver. He was gone 12 days later. She asked him to come visit her. “I said, ‘Please, when you come back to see me, I don’t want butterflies or bells ringing. I want something that’s you.”

After he died on Christmas Eve, she and her family came home exhausted but sat up to watch It’s a Wonderful Life, their favorite movie. Her son slept on the couch. David’s chair was by her bedroom door, with a table where he always placed the remote, his most precious possession. She laid it on the table.

The next morning her stepdaughter asked for the remote, but it wasn’t there.

“We looked everywhere for it,” Mattox said. She finally gave up, exasperated, and said she would just have to buy a new one.

Then her stepdaughter said she felt she should kneel down and turn her head in a certain direction. She couldn’t explain why. And she saw the remote, all the way across the room and under an antique Victrola record player, leaning against the wall as if it had been set there. It couldn’t have been laid on top because the Victrola cover was curved.

The day after Christmas, her family got up early to get on the road. “Once again, I thought I was asleep, and I saw my husband standing against the countertop. He had on his blue pajama pants he always wore, a t-shirt, barefoot, and he had a straw hat from a cruise we had taken. He winked and blew me a kiss. He had a full mouth of teeth, which he had lost in chemo. I actually saw him.”

The day after seeing her husband, she felt something come up over her side as if someone was putting an arm over her. At first, she thought it was her dog Molly. But she felt her husband’s hand. “My husband had the softest, warmest hand. I just lay there holding his hand until it went away. It was a nice feeling, like he was in bed with me.”

“I’m such a firm believer in it. You can’t explain it away for me. There’s been too many instances,” Mattox said. “People are always trying to rationalize, but where does a cigar band come from when my dresser was cleaned off and there was nothing there? I tell my neighbor, and she says, ‘Aren’t you scared?’ I said, ‘Of my husband? Of my uncle?

“To me, it’s the most interesting thing in the world.”

Or beyond.

By Carol Hanner, TheHandontheMirror.org

An email from Misti Begeman of Michigan

Thank you first off for giving me a way to contact you personally! I purchased your book. Why? Because I was searching for more knowledge and asked my beloved Don to “give me a sign” from the other side. Your book was facing cover out, and I immediately was drawn to it. I couldn’t wait to start reading it knowing that something in it would be a “secret message” from him, something he wants me to know or learn or research. I felt as if I were reading my own story of love connected over the boundaries. So, thank you for sharing your experience, and opening up a safe haven for us all who’ve had our own spirit communication with loved ones to share with one another…and hopefully learn we are not alone…EVER! :-).

In 2008 after an 18-month long divorce and feeling quite lifeless, an amazing man names Don Copeland came into my life and made me truly LIVE again! I vowed to live “in the moment” from the time I met him. We had just 2½ short years together. 1½ years into our fairytale he was diagnosed with Stage IV stomach cancer. Our journey was long, painful, numbing and heartbreaking.

As Don was learning how to die, I was learning how to lose him. We also learned about eternal love. We vowed to stay connected. I asked him to promise to give me signs he was OK and still with us. He waited just three days. He “visited” me in my dream. I have always had “special” dreams since I was young of things that were going to happen. Many came true. I am just adding that because I want it known that I understand the difference between a “dream” and a “visit” from loved ones. It is the easiest way they connect with me.

His nephew heard him walking down the stairs in our house the day of his wake. Everyone had left, even me, and he was alone. When I came in he freaked out a bit realizing it wasn’t me he heard. Our kitchen light over the table starting blinking right after he died, as well. We also had all the outlets go bad in the room he died in. I had to call an electrician to come out and repair everything. Yet, the kitchen light continued to blink. One night I started talking to it as if it were Don. It seemed to blink back an answer, and I just so happened to videotape it! It got to be when friends or family came to the house and the kitchen light would start blinking, they would say “Hi Don!” I have had three electricians out. All say they aren’t sure why it does that when the other light on the same outlet does not.

Don also started me on my spiritual journey to knowledge about what happens to us when we die, what do we do, where do we go, how do we connect and stay connected. I’ve read approximately 50 books on the subject over the past five years and your book was a great addition! I still feel Don around at times and it’s comforting. I recognize the signs, a song on the radio, a warm feeling of peace, a thought out of nowhere. I will always miss him and the dreams we planned together, but I know when I die, he will be coming for me to hold my hand as I cross over. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. He had something very special about him. He made people feel “peaceful” as people say when they talk about him. I feel extremely blessed to have shared the time with him I did. I know he knows how my heart feels and that makes me happy. My journey continues and our connection as well!

A text message from the other side

An email from Dana Wright of Kansas City, Missouri:

I’m Dana Wright, half of the Dana and Parks radio talk show in Kansas City on KMBZ-FM. (Recently), my Aunt Stacy moved into her sister Jeanna’s old home in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. It was bittersweet for her…. because her sister’s beloved husband, Ron, died in the home five years ago after a short battle with brain cancer. My Aunt Stacy has had some mixed feelings about moving into the house. While she is grateful for the opportunity for a fresh start, she has admitted she has felt a little sad since it was the home Jeanna and Ron shared so many happy memories in prior to his sudden death. On Monday, as she was busy unpacking boxes, she received a text message from a friend asking her about dinner plans. Stacy replied to the text: “Yes- we are still on for dinner- let’s meet up at 7 after I’m done unpacking.” After a few moments Stacy looked down at her phone and realized her text had not ‘sent’ … In its place? Three letters. In all caps. RON. Her phone simply said RON. Stacy says she was overcome with emotion, and she truly feels like Uncle Ron is letting her know that it’s okay she is moving into his old home. She’s been comforted by the “message”… I shared Stacy’s story on the radio with our listeners yesterday and we talked about your book. Thank you so much for your story!

Premonition of a death, and a visit from beyond

An email from Trudy of Ontario, Canada:

My husband Fred and I were Workampers and had been hired to work in Arizona during the winter of 2006/07. I mentioned this to my brother Henry, who was living in Vancouver, and he expressed a desire to come out and visit us, as he needed some sunshine. I agreed he should come down to Arizona to stay with us.

A few weeks later I received a heart-stopping e-mail in which he stated that he had been feeling unwell for the past year; it was colon and liver cancer. He had waited too long for any treatment to be effective. My husband and I went to Vancouver to say our goodbyes to my beloved brother. My other two brothers came, and we all reminisced about our childhood, and Henry often laughed as the marijuana pills he took controlled any pain he might have had. He had accepted that he would transition very soon and was very peaceful about it. As we had to return to Arizona, I embraced him, told him I loved him (for the first time ever) and said our final goodbyes.

A short time later I was sitting outside the trailer reading when I suddenly said to my husband, “I think Henry is going to pass tomorrow.” The next day we got the call that Henry had passed on. I have no idea how I “knew” that. The day he passed was also our wedding anniversary and our middle son’s birthday. Like most men, Henry would not have remembered that, but maybe on a higher level of consciousness he wanted his death to be celebratory and he chose that day to exit the physical realm. Two days later my husband was inside the trailer, looked up and saw Henry sitting in my chair. When he told me, I said, “Well, he wanted to come to Arizona so he did.”

I have never seen Henry, but just a few months ago Fred was listening to some meditative music and when he opened his eyes he saw Henry’s face on the wall. Fred has also seen my mother a few times; once she was standing beside our bed, and her message was that she loved us.

While in our motorhome, my husband saw a strange man sitting at the table. I suggested that it may have been a former owner who had passed on.