The Little Black Box
This True Ghost Story is a personal family story involving my dearly departed mother.
Wishing her immense joy, love, and laughter on the other side…with infinite time to dance with my father.
A photo of the little black box depicted in this story…
“I want to go back to England,” my mother exclaimed. “I’d like to see Grosvenor Street (where her childhood home still stands and where she met my father), the Mersey River (which she crossed everyday going to and from work as a hairstylist in the late 1950s/early 1960s), and Liverpool again (where she was employed in an upscale salon - watching the Beatles play at the Cavern on her lunch breaks). Will you take me?” In her mid-80’s, my wheelchair bound mother was in no condition to travel. She had recently come through a major surgery to remove colon cancer but, unfortunately, it was suspected to have returned. And if colon cancer wasn’t bad enough, my mother also struggled with several other debilitating medical issues - such as dementia - that kept her from living a normal life. It was hard for me to have to say no to her, but taking her to England was an impossible feat. She would need round the clock care that I couldn’t provide.
“I would love to go to England with you,” was always my response. “You would be the best tour guide and could take me to all the neat places I’ve heard stories about my entire life. We would have a wonderful time!” And while those conversations were incredibly uplifting - always making my mother smile - they always ended the same way. “Work with your physiotherapist,” I would coax. “If you can get out of your wheelchair and walk, I will take you.”
Inside I knew that my mother was never going to be well enough to travel to England…but in my heart I believed that giving her hope was kinder than taking it away.
“I keep having dreams of owning my own bed and breakfast aboard a ship that sails the Mersey River,” my mother’s eyes gleamed whenever she spoke of Britain, her past, and the Mersey River. She spoke of it often in her final years. “Rob (my older brother) could sail the ship. He always liked to drive. You could help with the cleaning (I had worked as a maid 30 years earlier) and I will make breakfast and change the bed linens for our guests.” My mother appeared to be lost in a time loop. She still knew who we all were but often referred to my siblings and I as teenagers or young adults. She dreamed of us all living together again as we did in the 1980s and early 90s. I knew these events would never come to pass, but I would smile and nod my head and tell her how wonderful it all sounded.
In August of 2023, my mother passed very peacefully in the nursing home where she lived. She was predeceased by my father - who passed in the spring of 2012 - and her youngest son - who passed unexpectedly in 1994. She was also predeceased by her mother, her grandmother, and numerous extended family members and friends - many of which I’d never had the pleasure to meet. I knew, when my mother passed, that there would have been many happy reunions waiting for her on the other side. And while I did miss her, I didn’t worry about her. She was free of her pain and physical restraints. She could breathe. She could dance. She could laugh.
A few months later, I received a small inheritance. My mother didn’t have much to give, but what she had was divided evenly amongst her children - as she would have wanted. I then took half of what was given to me and gave it to my daughter. My daughter was in journalism school at the time and was able to pay off her student loan with the gift of money she had received. My mother was proud of her granddaughter’s accomplishments and would would have wanted the money to be shared.
“What are you going to do with your portion?” my sister asked.
“I’d like to go to England to spread Mom’s ashes,” I responded. “Mom wouldn’t have wanted for me to pay off debts. She would tell me to go to Britain.”
It was all set. From that day on, I planned to go to England to honor my mother’s memory. The trip was to take place in the summer of 2025 - after my daughter had graduated - so she could meet us in England for the spreading of the ashes. On that trip, we agreed to take the ferry across the Mersey River, spreading my mother’s ashes enroute. Interesting fact, you can arrange in advance for the ferry to stop half way across the river to hold a moment of silence while spreading a loved one’s ashes. It was the perfect send-off for my mother, so this is what we decided to do. We didn’t give it much thought after that as the summer of 2025 was a long way away.
But a year later our travel plans completely unraveled…when - in late January 2025 - my husband and I purchased a home in Oakhill, Nova Scotia (a link to that True Ghost Story is provided at the bottom of this page). Everything happened very quickly - with a possession date set for the end of May. With expenses climbing through the roof, our trip to England was cancelled.
In late May 2025, my husband and I moved from Saskatchewan to Nova Scotia.
Six weeks later, my sister flew out from the other side of the country to visit. While she was enroute, my niece (who had just been released from hospital) texted me to ask me who the ‘white woman’ was. My niece deals with serious health issues. She was very ill at the time of sending that message and I thought that she might be hallucinating, disoriented, or dreaming. I didn’t know what to make of my nieces message, so I told her that the ‘white woman’ was likely one of her angels or guides who was with her to comfort her while she was sick.
My sisters flight arrived a few hours later. One of the first things she talked about was an odd experience she’d had on the plane. She said that she saw a woman in the clouds who was smiling and waving, trying to get her attention. My sister knew instantly that it was our mother. She also said that the white figure was holding something black in her hand but my sister couldn’t quite make out what the small black object was. She said it looked like a small box…possibly a cell phone…but couldn’t make sense of why she was holding it. A cell phone didn’t make sense for our mother. She never owned one. My sister saw the apparition around the same time that my niece had sent me the text asking who the ‘white woman’ was. This was no coincidence.
We thought all of this was very odd…but chalked it up to our mother acknowledging my sister’s trip and our time together…as spirit do tend to pop in for family gatherings and celebrations.
Two days before my sister was set to leave, we were visiting with my daughter and discussing what to do on her last day here. I told my sister that I wanted to take her to see a white sand beach near Liverpool, NS. We got talking about the area and how funny it is that there is a town named Liverpool in Nova Scotia. Our mother would have loved that. Then it came up that there is also a Mersey River…and that you have to cross the Mersey River to get to Liverpool.
“Aww… We should do a memorial for Mom when we’re there and spread some of her ashes in the Mersey River,” my sister exclaimed. “You were supposed to be doing that in England this summer.”
It was a great idea!
“Yes, we should!” I chimed in. “We will bring her ashes and some flowers from our garden. It will be beautiful.”
That evening, I grabbed the box from my office that contained my mother’s ashes. It was a small black box that the funeral director had mailed to me after her body was cremated. I’d been keeping the box in the top drawer of my desk - an antique that my mother had bought for my childhood bedroom when I was 12. Inside the box was a small velvet bag containing a portion of my mother’s ashes that I had intended to take to England and spread in the Mersey River. I turned the corner into the living room with the black box in my hand and my sister gasped.
“That’s it!” she exclaimed. “That’s the black object that mom was holding when I saw her in the clouds! It wasn’t a cell phone! It was her ashes!”
We all stared at the box in my hand. Shivers ran up my entire body.
It was a somber moment when we realized that our mother was foreshadowing her own memorial and the spreading of her ashes. Isn’t it interesting how the spirit realm works…
The next day, my sister, my daughter, my husband, and I drove to Liverpool, NS, to hold a celebration of life for my mother (grandmother, mother-in-law) at the edge of the Mersey River. I picked the prettiest flowers I could find on our land…in an array of vibrant colors…one flower to represent each member of our family - including those who could not be present. My daughter suggested that we dust each flower with ashes and then let them float downstream…to the mouth of the river and out into the Atlantic. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful ceremony…possibly the most intimate and beautiful memorial I have ever been a part of. My mother would have really liked that. We watched the flowers until they disappeared and then we enjoyed a nice lunch in a nearby restaurant before showing my sister a few more local sights on our way home.
That day really was a beautiful day…one I will never forget.
I hope my mother is happy in her new existence and that she’s been reunited with friends and loved ones on the other side. Thanks for coming to see us in Nova Scotia. We will see you again when the time is right.
Family is forever. Love is eternal.
The Last Farewell…
My daughter and I at the edge of the Mersey River (July 2025), spreading my mothers ashes on flowers from my garden and letting them drift downstream towards the Atlantic. May she rest in peace.
Copyright © 2025 Ashley Wong
All Rights Reserved
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the True Ghost Story surrounding our sudden decision to move to Nova Scotia you can read it here: This is where you’re going to live — Made by a Real Witch
What do you think about the apparition that my sister saw in the clouds holding the black object? Do you believe it was our mother or something else? Do you believe that spirit live on and are able to return to the human realm? Feel free to leave a comment below.
