Our Adopted Daughter Passed Away – A Week Later, My 5-Year-Old Son Said, ‘My Sister Waves Goodnight from That House’

Five years ago, we adopted Emily after years of trying for a child. Then, miraculously, I got pregnant, and our son Ben was born. Life felt perfect—until the accident. Emily was hit by a car and taken from us. Grief consumed me, and the house felt empty without her laughter.

A week after the funeral, Ben whispered, “Mommy, sister waves to me from the house next door.” I assumed he was imagining it, a child’s way of coping. But that night, as I stayed in his room, Ben pointed to the window. Across the street, in the empty house, I saw it—a shadow, faint but unmistakable. A little girl, raising her hand to wave.

Night after night, at 9 p.m., the shadow returned. Ben would smile and wave back, his sadness replaced by peace. Though I couldn’t explain it, I came to believe it was Emily, letting us know she was still with us. In her own quiet way, she brought us comfort and reminded us that love endures—even across impossible distances.