Impressions On a Mother’s Passing

My client came to me burdened with deep sorrow. She had lost her mother three months ago. Since the mother’s death, she had been imprisoned by the harsh reality of losing her without a goodbye. She struggled to communicate with others and found no peace within herself. The weight of her remorse left her feeling powerless, with dark circles under her eyes as lightless depths of the oceans. She was exhausted and had little to say.

I, too, had lost my mother nearly a year ago. I shared my story with her, hoping to offer some solace. I spoke about my mother’s life, her passing, and how I had come to terms with it. I explained what I believed happens after we die and how we should continue with our lives.

I suggested the client find a quiet, comfortable place where she wouldn’t be disturbed. As I closed my eyes, an image of an older woman appeared in the darkness. She looked gloomy and unhappy, avoiding eye contact. She wore a scarf over her head and focused intently on a thick book in her hands. When I described this to my client, she immediately recognized the book as the Quran. Her mother had loved reading verses from it whenever she had time, and she would wear a scarf.

At first, I thought her mother was seeking her salvation. But then I realized she was doing it for her daughter. Despite the 90 days since her passing, she remained in this temporary dimension, unable to leave because she wanted to ease her daughter’s pain. More frequently these days, I could hear the whispers of the departed. Initially, they communicated through simple signs, but now they convey their messages more clearly with audible words. The mother silently expressed her sorrow, not knowing how to comfort her daughter. She had a good life, and it was time to go in peace, but she couldn’t leave her daughter in such sorrow.

This was how the story began.

I paused to explain this to my client. I repeated what her mother had told me—that she couldn’t leave because of her daughter’s grief, and her efforts to comfort her through the holy book had failed. The daughter seemed somewhat relieved and had a few realizations. She understood that her sorrow was preventing her mother from moving on. I asked if she truly wanted to hold her mother back. She admitted she did not, though her response was unclear at first. Through our discussion, she realized it was not a good idea to keep her mother bound to this temporary realm for her own comfort and fears. She finally understood that letting go would bring peace to both of them.

Upon her releasing the mother, the deceased woman began to glow with a beautiful golden light resembling a goddess and slowly moved away a little. As the daughter smiled in relief with her eyes closed, the mother continued to move further back until she looked like an aircraft taking off, now barely visible. It was a moment of fast relief. Both the mother and daughter seemed content. The daughter was smiling more with relief, not knowing what was happening on the other side. That was a moment to celebrate. A few happy tears furtively fell on my desk where I sat. The mother seemed very content and glowing even more.

In our following sessions, the mother reappeared no more. Only to appear at the third session with the daughter’s younger sister this time, who was also burdened with sorrow. Though more controlled, her deep sadness was evident. We worked on transforming her gloomy energy into a happier and more positive one. A healer’s function is not to remove the negative energies but to convert them into positive ones to gain more energy. The first law of thermodynamics states that energy cannot be destroyed or created, and Taoist sages based their techniques on this principle.

During the session with the younger daughter, the mother reappeared shortly with extraordinary playfulness and humor. Her transformation was breathtaking. She had been playful and humorous in life before death, and now she was the same. She made jokes and asked her younger daughter to cook sarma—a delicious Turkish dish of stuffed vine leaves—in her honor and wished the younger sister sleep in her bed whenever she missed her. We laughed a lot and said our goodbyes. The image of the mother faded away with our farewell.

These were the incidents that took place in this story. Both sisters are doing great now, and I am content and peaceful to have brought comfort and consolation to three people.

Cover Photo by: E4024