(Written mid-October 2025)

Have you experienced moments when you feel your loved ones are still with you even though your relationship is somehow separated by death, distance, time, or life situation?

Have you ever noticed something that reminded you of them? Did you think you saw them in a crowd? Did you hear their favorite song and feel like they were smiling? Did a scent bring them to mind? Did you feel their presence or hear them in your heart?

Kübler-Ross and Kessler, in their 2005 book, Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss, suggest these are kinds of hauntings.

I have felt Robert’s hand on my thigh – a normal place for it to reside when he was alive – especially when we were sitting side by side or in the car. I have also smelled the smoke from his cigarettes. I’ve smelled Dad’s after shave and felt his hand on my shoulder. I’ve heard them both speak in my heart giving me direction, confidence, or peace. I’ve glimpsed one of my cats out of the corner of my eye, even though we were not in the same city and felt them brush my leg when I’m at work and they’re at home.

“There are many types of hauntings, such as sounds you hear, people you see, words that echo, and even the physical sensation of being touched. You can be haunted by an event in the present or the past, or by something you wish would happen in the future. Whether they are comforting or disturbing, hauntings are a part of loss that needs attention” (p 55).

Hauntings can be a blessing and I’ve been blessed by two that have really stood out over the years.  

In January of 2020, 13 months after he died, my husband, Robert made me cry twice in the space of 24 hours. In mid-December 2019, I was wearing earrings that my best friend gave me, and I lost one. I looked everywhere I could think of, but it had been a day of many meetings in many places. I couldn’t find it and gave it up as permanently lost.  

Then, in early January 2020, I was having a conversation with Robert as I drove into work. When I parked and got out of the car, my earring was just lying there on the pavement a few inches from my back passenger door. It had clearly been “weathered” and trampled by feet and tires, but there it was! I was astounded. My eyes welled up with tears. I couldn’t believe it. I actually said out loud, “Was that from you, Babe?” I felt all day as if Robert had gifted me with the lost earring. 

I couldn’t wait to get home and reunite the earring with its partner. When I got home, I excitedly went to where I was sure the partner earring was, but it wasn’t. I looked in every place I could think of. No earring. Sighing at the craziness of life, I gave up.  

The next morning, as I was driving to work, I was thanking Robert for finding the earring and told him that it was partnerless. Suddenly, I wondered . . . if Robert found the first earring, maybe he could help me find the second. At the next stoplight, I had an urge to look near a framed picture I kept of Robert in the car. Sure enough, there was the partner earring under his picture frame!  

Then, recently, a Dad haunting filled my soul with joy.

In late June of this year, Lacey, an service dog, and her Mom, Linda, beloved adopted members of my work team, came to an office potluck. Lacey was wearing a birthday balloon for me! 

But that wasn’t the haunting. The haunting actually happened in three stages that day!

That morning, I smelled Dad’s deodorant. (Right Guard, in case you were wondering.) So, obviously, I started a conversation with him in my heart. I felt him ask what I wanted for my birthday. 

He did this last year, too. Last year, I said I hadn’t seen a deer in a while, even though it was deer season in our neighborhood. So, I asked him to send me a deer. Then, a few days later, I woke up on my birthday, and there were four deer right outside my window.

This time, when he asked, without hesitation, I said, “A balloon, please. Just one.”

Later in the morning, I was at a store to get something for the potluck and reached for a birthday balloon, but felt a nudge to wait. Then, at lunch, in came Linda and Lacey with one, beautiful balloon.

During the potluck, I shared my story with Linda, and her eyes widened. She said when she was at the store trying to decide on flowers for me, she heard a voice in her head say, “Christy needs a balloon.”

Now, some people might say I’m making things up, that it’s just coincidence, or that I have an overactive imagination. But I’m not giving up on the idea that loved ones, now separated by distance, dimension, or essence, are still part of our lives. 

Nor will I let go of my belief that hauntings strengthen my inner HERO. When I am haunted I’m reminded of all the ways my loved one loved me. My Optimism grows around the sadness of separation. My Resilience (my ability to bounce back) and my Efficacy (my sense that I can do it) are fortified by the presence of my ancestors. My Hope flourishes as my loved ones help me see the way through and find the will to make it happen.

Have you experienced any hauntings?  I’d love to hear about them!