One day, my daughter told me that her mom had come to school. At first, I thought it was just a child’s imagination, a way to cope with the loss. However, the events that followed shook me to the core and completely changed my view of the world.
It all started about six months after my wife passed away. My daughter Emily and I were trying to adapt to a new reality: a quiet home, lonely dinners, the absence of a beloved voice. I did everything I could to take care of my daughter, but I felt that something was missing. Despite her young age, Emily was going through this loss very deeply but tried to stay strong.
One evening, while I was checking her homework, she suddenly said softly, “Dad, Mom came to school.” I froze. “Emily, what do you mean?” I asked, trying to stay calm. “She sat next to me during math class. She smiled and said everything would be okay.”
I didn’t know what to say. Sometimes children see things that adults cannot. Maybe it was her imagination, brought on by longing and the desire for her mom to return. I hugged her and said that maybe it was just a dream.
But this story kept repeating itself. A few days later, Emily told me that her mom had helped her with a test. “She whispered the correct answer to me, Dad! And you know what? The teacher said it was the only question that no one in the class had solved except for me.”
I began to worry. I decided to talk to her teacher to find out how Emily was behaving at school, and whether the teachers noticed anything unusual. However, the teacher only praised my daughter for her diligence and mentioned that her performance in some subjects had indeed improved.
One evening, while tidying up an old wardrobe, I found my wife’s journal. She often wrote her thoughts, plans, and ideas in it. I wasn’t ready to open it, but something compelled me to. On one of the last pages, I read: “If I’m ever gone, I’ll always be near Emily. She needs to know that I’m proud of her and will always support her.”
Those words shook me. I started wondering if my daughter truly felt her mother’s presence. Could it be my wife’s way of helping us cope with the loss? I wanted to understand, but I didn’t know how.
One night, when Emily was already asleep, I sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea, deep in thought. Suddenly, I heard a faint rustling sound. It was the curtain moving slightly, even though the windows were closed. I felt a strange sensation—not fear, but warmth and peace. I began to believe that my wife might really be there.
But what convinced me completely was one particular event. At a school fair where children were selling their handmade crafts, Emily created a beautiful card with the words, “For Dad, from Mom.” “Emily, what is this?” I asked, trying to understand. She smiled shyly and said, “Mom said you were sad and asked me to make you a gift.” I felt tears well up in my eyes.
Later, when we got home, I found the same card on my desk. Next to it was a small note that read: “I am always with you. I love you both.”
I was stunned. The handwriting on the note was exactly the same as my wife’s. I had her old letters and knew every detail of her handwriting. It couldn’t have been a prank or a coincidence.
Since then, I started paying more attention to my daughter’s words. She no longer talked about her mom visiting, but her smile and confidence became brighter. I realized that perhaps our love is truly stronger than we can imagine and connects us even across invisible boundaries.
Whether it was coincidence or something more, I don’t know. But I understood one thing for sure: even when we lose our loved ones, their love and care remain with us forever.
