Why Do You Believe in the Paranormal?


Losing Mom wasn’t the hardest part. The hardest part is dealing with the aftermath. Trying to keep siblings from gouging each other’s hearts out ranks right up there in the Top Two Most Difficult Aspects of Losing a Parent. Then there’s cleaning out the mountains of debris and accumulated detritus crowding Mom’s home of close to 50 years. And oh boy, could she pack it in! Every crevice and cranny was stuffed, quite literally to the rafters, with…everything. I found report cards from every grade. Every. One. The silly notes I passed between friends at school. Faded art projects. And while I have no desire to actually keep the majority of the stuff I unearthed, it still gave me a pretty serious pang to have to throw it all away.

Now comes the paranormal part…

Mom’s house is 1500 miles away from the home I live in now, in Seattle. I was last there a couple months ago, after Mom passed, to help with cleaning and to pick up some items. I stayed in my old bedroom and listened to the sounds of the house around me as I lay awake late at night. This creak, or that sigh as it shifted in the wind, and the clicks and whirrs of the appliances and heating system were all so very familiar.

Also familiar was the sound of Mom’s footsteps as she’d walk down the hall to the bathroom. Her tread was light, but still thudded softly on the thick carpet of the upstairs hall. And there – the squeak of the loose floorboard right outside my room. Two nights in a row, I heard those footsteps, and that distinct squeal that could only be the sound of weight pressing on that creaky spot. The first night, she even paused outside my door, and tapped on it softly.

Did I get up and answer? Nope. I’m ashamed to admit that when the absolute reality of life after death smacked me in the face at 1 a.m. I was afraid. Not of Mom. I wasn’t afraid of her spirit standing there on the other side of the door.


It was a purely visceral reaction to the validation of everything I believed. The fear was because I sorta held onto a bit of doubt about – everything. That night, that tiny bit of doubt was obliterated.

Even after decades of paranormal experiences – physically running into ghosts, communicating with them, and having those experiences validated by other sources, I still held onto a tiny kernel of skepticism. And I was okay with that. I was okay with the dichotomy of believing and not believing. My own Schroedinger’s Cat scenario – both real and not real. I could tell people, “Well, this happened, but…” As if that ‘but’ gave me, and everyone else, a way to dismiss what I was legitimately experiencing.

Hearing Mom walk the hallway, just like she did in life, erased forever any lingering doubt I might have had. And that was just a bit terrifying.

It was also freeing. I no longer had to cling to that little kernel. There was simply no other explanation for the sound of her footsteps, and the creak of the floorboard than the presence of her spirit walking past my door. Period. And if her spirit was real, then it suddenly made everything else I’d seen, or heard, or felt, just as real.

The second night, Mom once more stood outside my bedroom door and gently tapped. This time, I talked to her. She was concerned about some family stuff, and I reassured her. She wanted to let me know she was okay, and still around. I told her I was grateful she came back this night, after I was so afraid the night before. We had a good talk, comforting, and she faded away. I knew she wouldn’t be back.

And that was okay. Because although her body was gone, her spirit lives on. I no longer have any doubts about that at all.

Tell me, what made you believe? I would love to hear your stories!


2 thoughts on “Why Do You Believe in the Paranormal?”

  1. In 2007 the family was made aware of the fact that my mother had decided against having surgery on her abdominal aortic aneurysm. With each year came testing to see if the aneurysm had enlarged. My mother requested that her doctor not speak to her about the outcome of the test due to also suffering from panic attacks. In October 2012, she had a stroke which caused her to totally lose all memory of any of us including my father. We made an appointment to see her doctor at which time her memory had returned, which seemed like a miracle within itself. She was able to give the doctor her permission to speak with my daughter and myself after she left the room. He explained that the aneurysm had reach 7 plus cm. and it would not be long before she left us. Morning of the November 24th, she complained of back pain and insisted it was time to go to the E.R. asap. When the doctor entered the room he remarked on my mother being such a sweet soul as he felt around her belly. He sort of jumped back in shock asking about what he had just felt. When the situation was explained to him, he left the room to consult with her primary doctor. It did not take long for her to notice my eyes welling up with tears. She pointed her finger at me and said “Don’t you start that Tina-Rae”… I knew better than to argue the fact that I could not help it and sucked it up real quick like. When the doctor returned he explained to my mother that he was giving her a script for morphine and she was to take so much every 2 hours or as often as she felt she needed to. She left us the following afternoon on Nov 25, 2012.

    Every time I felt myself wanting to cry… I could see my mother pointing to me while hearing her repeat the words she had spoken that night in the emergency room. After a few months I began to feel like my heart was cold and I found myself becoming a bit angry at her for not allowing me to cry.

    I do not recall the date but… I spent the night away from home. Nobody had been there but my cats and the 2 dogs. When I returned the next day I was playing with one of my cats on my bed. As I was getting up I noticed a rainbow of color shimmering from my bed. As I looked closer I found a tiny Opal which I had never seen before. In that moment that I picked it up from my bed, I felt such a huge release of weight lifted from me and a sense of peace.

    Since that day I have been able to cry when thinking about my mother…. Her birthstone was Opal.

    1. Tina-Rae, what a beautiful memento you now have from your mother. Thank you for sharing your story! When we get those undeniable signs from our loved ones, it is a huge weight lifted off our shoulders. What a comfort!

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