I’ve mentioned before that I still talk to my dead husband, but I don’t think I’ve said much about him talking to me beyond the time I felt his hand on mine after I had surgery last fall.

Many people who lose a loved one report that their dead loved one makes appearances in different ways. Missing items of the dead person turn up mysteriously, survivors find themselves being followed by an attentive bird, they receive communications though mediums and psychics, and more. One very common report is of flickering lights. Even And Just Like That, which gets so much about grief and death wrong, has an episode in which Carrie’s lamp starts flickering and she suspects it’s her dead husband.

I have no idea why dead people would be particularly fond of electrical means of communicating, but I can attest that I have experienced it. My lights have flickered occasionally, but most of the communication seems to be through our Roomba. After his stroke, my husband ordered a Roomba so he could, as he put it, “contribute to the housekeeping.” He took great pride in running it a few times a week, usually saying something like, “Put your feet up, babe, and relax for a while. I’m vacuuming.” He was oddly connected to that Roomba.

After he died, I forgot about the Roomba. I left it plugged in but since I didn’t even have the app on my phone, I never ran it. Five months after he died, the dusty Roomba sprang to life, came off its charger and spun around, then went back to its charger. My daughter was there and we both immediately said, “Tom?” There was no answer, but we both felt warm and fuzzy and it kicked off an hour of reminiscing.

I continue to leave the Roomba plugged in and every once in a while, it repeats the little dance. Now when the Roomba stirs, I just say, “Hi, Tom! I know you’re there. I love you.” A vacuuming device has never made me feel so loved.

A few days ago, as I was helping my daughter get ready for a major surgery at 4:30 in the morning, the Roomba started up. There may be rational explanations for the Roomba’s stirrings, but the timing of this event was particularly uncanny. Of course if my husband could let us know he was thinking of us and hoping for a good outcome for my daughter, he would. Why not through the Roomba?

I have never felt like my mother communicated with me after she died, although I desperately wanted her to. I missed her intensely but have never felt her presence with me like I have with my husband. I have never felt like my grandparents or others close to me who died communicated with me after their deaths. My husband is the only person I’ve ever lost who I believe has communicated with me after death. There are the Roomba episodes, a couple of times when I felt him holding my hand or shoulder, and a handful of other incidents, plus two contacts through psychics.

I know I’m not alone. A Psychology Today article reports that a majority of people who have lost a loved one believe that person has communicated with them after death.

When I’ve shared my experience, I’ve gotten a variety of reactions. One person said they were surprised someone “as smart as” me would believe this. Others have tried to convince me that it’s impossible that Tom has been communicating with me and they’ve wanted to explore alternative explanations for the Roomba activity and other incidents. I am simply uninterested in this line of thinking. I am making a choice to believe that my dead husband is communicating with my daughter and me through our Roomba.

Most people I’ve shared these experiences with have said something to the effect of, “I’m happy to hear that this gives you comfort.” I think that’s a wonderful response. It is neutral, neither agreeing that Tom is communicating with me nor trying to convince me that he isn’t. It isn’t argumentative. It is respectful of my choice to believe what I want.

That choice doesn’t hurt anyone, doesn’t cost anyone anything, and makes me happy. When he was alive, I loved when he helped with the housework, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy to think that he still wants to help vacuum from time to time.