On this Mother’s Day, whether your mom is in heaven or clinging to this life, this post is for you. If you know someone who is still grieving the loss of their mom, please feel free to share.

I’ve heard her say my name at least twice.

My mom went to heaven in October of 2010, 2 years and 346 days after my dad.

As a kid, I was extremely shy, sensitive and introverted, and in grade school, I remember clinging to her when she would visit my classroom.

As an adult, I had the good fortune to spend a lot of time with, and enjoying, my parents. For that, I am grateful. Like all family relationships, it wasn’t always pretty, but life never is. You don’t appreciate the good without some of the bad.

Years later, my parents’ health declined and they moved off the farm and into the town I lived in. After my dad passed away, my mom relied on me even more.

I don’t regret this. Even though it may exhaust your patience, it is time you will never get back.

Grief is very complex and personal, and unfortunately, it’s not a subject many people know how to talk about. And however you choose to experience your journey: it’s okay. If you have an ailing loved one or one who has recently passed, you may want to read my post about grieving the loss of my parents: Grief Is a Personal Journey 

I was working in the kitchen a few years ago and heard my mom say my name.

It was so clear and audible that I looked behind me to see if she was in the room. This wasn’t the first time I heard her voice.

Another time I was cleaning out the basement. I had a bin of household bills from 2005-2006 that belonged to my parents. My mother was one of those people who grew up very poor during the depression and saved EVERYTHING, so these things would probably have been important to her.

I grabbed a chair and the bin and sat in front of the fire pit. I sorted through a few things and tossed them in the fire, where soon it began smoking with the new fuel.

The smoke wafted in my direction, so I shifted my chair and repeated this process. Again, the smoke drifted in my direction. This scenario repeated itself over and over, until I had moved six times and arrived back at my starting point.

It was both funny and exasperating at the same time. I stood up and said out loud, “Okay mom, you’ve made your point. I’ll put this away.” 😀

As a creative person, you have to be open to inspiration and ideas. Signaling inspiration is like putting a huge antenna out in the Universe and trying to tune in Tokyo. That’s really the best way to explain it.

And, just like a TV antenna, sometimes you get weird stuff that comes in along with the ideas. When I get stumped, I reach out to my friend Bess, who’s been trained as a medium.

Bess isn’t her real name, but Bess prefers to remain incognito about her skills, which is perfectly understandable considering the rural nature of where we live.

Bess told me that my mother was hovering because she was concerned about me, and described how she was making her presence felt.

The moral of this story is you don’t need someone else to tell you how your loved one is with you. It’s not like those who have gone before us can have a conversation.

Whether a dream, a drift of smoke, a beautiful sunset, a snippet of song or a beautiful flower…your loved one is there. If you haven’t felt it, don’t worry. Your loved ones are looking over you now, and will be waiting to greet you on the other side.

Slow down, open your eyes, and breathe in what this life has to offer. Little gifts come our way every day, and sometimes the hardest thing to do is to take the time to notice them.

Happy Mother’s Day!