Woo Woo

 June 20, 2025

There are moments in life we cannot prove, yet we have no doubt of the validity. These moments might be categorized as interactions with the dearly departed. Some might call them an interaction with the paranormal. Others might call it poppycock, complete and utter nonsense. Some might even call it “woo woo”, a nonsensical word used to describe an unexplainable moment that no one can validate or verify.

"Woo Woo: dubioulsy or outlandishly mystical, supernatural, or unscientific"

-Merriam Webster Dictionary

Since my mother’s passing, I’ve had two “woo woo” moments. 

What I’m about to share with you is one hundred percent true. You may believe me, you may not. The choice to believe is yours. I understand that what I’m about to tell you, on paper, is impossible to believe. Yet, I assure you they happened.

*

The first “woo woo” moment happened on my birthday. That was truly a difficult day for me. I knew I would not be hearing from my mom. There would be no cards from her, no letters, no text messages, no calls. Instead, I received a visit.

I was home that day, on a vacation from work. I heard from all my family and friends, which meant the world to me. Yet I knew I wouldn’t hear from the one person I wanted to hear from. 

I didn’t do much that day; I stayed home and journaled about the day, my thoughts and experiences. I think I spent hours journaling that day.

All of a sudden, I felt my mother’s presence. It was clear to me she was there. Something changed in the environment; I suddenly knew I wasn’t alone. I instinctively looked up from my writing and said, “Oh! Hi mom!” I didn’t see her, I didn’t call her, invite her, she just appeared. I absolutely felt her presence; I could even sense where she was in the room.

The moment wasn’t at all scary or frightening. In fact, quite the opposite, it was touching, moving. On the day I most profoundly felt her loss, she popped in for a visit. The moment ended as rapidly as it had begun; she came to see me, and returned from whence she came. It was a wonderful experience. It left me feeling, knowing, that I wasn’t alone.

*

The second moment was on the day before my mother’s memorial service. I had driven to a nearby town, an hour drive from my home. I arrived at the destination early, hours earlier than my family members. Once I had arrived safely at my destination I went to pick up lunch, checked into my hotel, and got on with my day.

After arriving at the hotel, and unpacking my wares, I began journaling about my day, to honor and memorialize this time in my life. 

As occasionally happens when journaling, I took a pause, put down my pen, gently massaged my hand and wrist. I picked up my pen, to begin. However, I then noticed something in my journal. More specifically, I noticed the last words I’d written in my journal. The handwriting in my journal was not my own. It was my mother’s.

Seeing my mother’s handwriting was a jaw dropping, record scratching, earth shattering moment. I couldn’t explain it, I couldn’t replicate it, and it was completely jarring.

I didn’t see my mother, I didn’t feel her presence as I had done on my birthday. But it was abundantly clear to me that she made her presence known, in a way that she knew would resonate with me.

I know my mom didn’t mean to freak me out in that moment. I know she wasn’t trying to shock me or scare me. That being said, I contemplated that moment for hours afterwards.

Upon reflection of seeing my mother’s handwriting in my journal, I had a moment of knowing. A message was delivered in that moment. I didn’t hear words or phrases, I just knew something to be true. By my interpretation, it was as if my mom was saying, “You made it. I got you here safely; this is where I leave you. You’ve got this. Do me proud.”

The next day, after my mother’s memorial service, I mentioned  the incident to a family member. They were surprised to learn of the event. Later that evening I had some time to meet up with that family member. We had dinner, and had time to decompress and share our experiences of the day. At that time, I showed my journal to my family member. They were amazed at what they saw. They immediately recognized the handwriting in my journal as being my mother’s. 

Days later I shared my experiences of that weekend with a friend. I told her of my drive, the service, and about my time with family members. I then told her about the moment of my journal entry being in my mother’s handwriting and not my own. 

I then showed her a photo of my journal. She immediately noticed the difference in writing style. She didn’t recognize the writing as being my mother’s; at the same time, she acknowledged that the writing wasn’t mine.

*

In thinking about these moments, they both seem too fantastical to be true. There’s no way to validate or prove these events. 

However, I don’t need them to be proven or validated. I know they happened, and that they happened just as I have shared them now.

Call it what you will. Call it profound, comforting, crazy, a figment of my imagination, complete and utter nonsense. Yet, I know these moments happened, with every fiber of my being. 

And yes, I’m aware, they’re completely “woo woo.”

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/woo-woo