A Message from Beyond the Veil

Mom and I

It’s been just over three months since my mother passed into spirit. The ache of her absence still echoes through my days. For years, we spoke on the phone almost every afternoon—sharing laughter, daily happenings, and the quiet challenges of life.

Some might have called it gossip, but those conversations were so much more. They were sacred threads of connection—our way of weaving care through the family tapestry. Together we found small ways to help—a prayer whispered, a phone call made, or a handwritten note (snail mail, of course) that carried love across the miles.

Mom lived through so much. She often said, “I just need someone to talk to, to get things off my chest.” Now, I understand that more deeply than ever. Life continues to offer its tangled mix of emotions and lessons, and sometimes, the heart just needs a place to rest.

Yesterday was one of those days. My father—now hard of hearing, forgetful, and newly alone after seventy years of marriage—became angry with me over something as small as a key. His outburst broke something tender inside me. I drove home with tears streaming down my face, realizing that I was clinging to a past that no longer exists. My mother is no longer there to care for him, and he is struggling to care for himself. As the daughter who lives nearby, I’ve been trying to hold it all together caught between love, responsibility, and grief.

And then Spirit reminded me: my mother is still here.

While promoting an upcoming Intuitive Development collaboration, my colleagues and I decided to focus our practice on my father’s wellbeing. With permission from his higher self, we tuned in. What came through was verifiable, heart-opening truth—details only I could confirm. As we closed, one of the women, whom I’ll call Viv, smiled and said, “Wouldn’t it be beautiful if your mom could give your dad a sign that she’s still watching over him—like flickering the lights?”

Within minutes of ending our call, my phone lit up. It was my brother, texting from thousands of miles away: “Dad’s distress lights are flickering on and off, and I can’t reach him!”

My heart leapt. I grabbed my keys and raced over. By the time I arrived, the neighbors had already alerted the authorities of the pulsing lights. A posse member was already at the door checking.  We discovered together that my dad was fine—sleeping peacefully on the back patio, unaware of the commotion. And I knew, with every fiber of my being, that my mother had found her way through the veil to let us know: She’s still here. She’s watching. And she knows we need reassurance.

Grief transforms us. It teaches us to listen in new ways—to the whispers, the signs, the subtle touch of spirit. I miss my mom’s physical presence deeply, but I also know that love does not die. It simply changes form. And through the “clairs”—our intuitive senses—we can continue to connect, to communicate, and to feel the presence of those we love.

This experience has inspired me to help others find reassurance, and to validate the truth.  If you have been uncertain in a world of chaos and would like to begin a journey of discovering and trusting your own intuition please join us. https://www.inhealinglight.com/developingyourintuition

💙 Lynn