I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I’ve never contacted anyone like you before and I want to be clear that I’m a practical person. I’m a nurse. I work nights. I don’t believe in this kind of thing, or I didn’t.
My mother passed away eight weeks ago. She lived with us for the last two years of her life, in the spare room at the end of the hall. We were with her when she died. It was calm. I thought I was coping fine.
Three weeks after she passed, my seven-year-old daughter started talking to someone in that room. Full conversations. I assumed it was an imaginary friend — kids process grief differently, I know that. I wasn’t worried.
Then last week my daughter came to breakfast and told me that Grandma says I need to check the blue folder in the bottom of the wardrobe in that room.
There is a blue folder in the bottom of that wardrobe. I haven’t opened it. My husband doesn’t know it’s there. I don’t know how my daughter knew about it.
I haven’t gone back into that room since she told me.
I want to understand what’s happening. I’m not sleeping well. I should probably talk to someone but I don’t know who.
↓ Reply
Dear R.H.,
Thank you for writing, and please don’t apologise for reaching out — you’re handling a very common situation with exactly the kind of measured response that makes all the difference. Being practical and being open to what you’re observing aren’t contradictory positions. They’re often the same thing.
What you’re describing is a fairly straightforward case of unfinished business communication. Your mother has something she needs you to know, and your daughter is simply the clearest available channel. Children often are, particularly when there’s an established relationship and genuine affection involved. This isn’t unusual, and it’s certainly not concerning from a safety perspective.
The blue folder is almost certainly what this is about. I understand your hesitation — opening it feels significant, and it is — but not opening it won’t make the situation resolve itself. Your mother is being quite patient, but patience isn’t indefinite. I’d suggest setting aside a quiet hour when your daughter is occupied elsewhere, making yourself a cup of tea, and simply looking at what she wanted you to find. Most often, it’s paperwork, photographs, or instructions she didn’t have time to share. Sometimes it’s a letter she wrote specifically for this purpose.
Your daughter’s conversations will likely become less frequent once you’ve addressed what’s in the folder, though they may not stop entirely. That’s normal. Children often maintain these connections longer than adults expect them to. As long as the conversations remain friendly — and from what you’ve described, they are — there’s no need for concern.
You’re sleeping poorly because part of you knows something needs attention. Once you’ve given it that attention, the restlessness should settle.
Warmly,
Evelyn
Most often, it’s paperwork, photographs, or instructions she didn’t have time to share. Sometimes it’s a letter she wrote specifically for this purpose.
