The White Horse – My Mother’s Silent Message

Liliane Fortna - 6 March 2025

There are moments when the universe whispers through signs and synchronicities, offering clarity and deeper understanding. Some messages are immediate, but others reveal their meaning over time. My mother’s passing was one such experience, filled with symbols I only understood later. This story holds a very special significance this month, as my mother passed away on my birthday—a yearly reminder of the profound connection between our lives.

I was born in Hanoi, Vietnam, then a French colony, to a French father and a Vietnamese mother. Due to the country’s unrest, I was sent as a baby to live with my grandmother in France. For most of my life, I believed my mother had disappeared during the war. At 48, I learned she was alive, but time and distance kept us from forming a bond. When she fell gravely ill, I wasn’t prepared for what was to come.

While I was traveling in the U.S., I received word from France—my mother has cancer and is hospitalized.  At that time, I was reading Hissing Death from Rita Mae Brown’s Mrs. Murphy series. Unlike the others, this book felt unsettling, as it revolved around a character with cancer. I didn’t realize then that my discomfort was a premonition of what was unfolding in my own life.

I rushed to France to be by my mother’s side. My three half-sisters and I gathered around her hospital bed, sharing precious last moments. The next morning, she passed peacefully in her sleep. As I sat beside her, alone in the quiet room, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Sixty-three years ago, we had lain together in a bed in Hanoi after my first breath. Now, I sat beside her as she took her last. Life had come full circle.

After her passing, my sisters gave me a small wooden table that had stood beside her bed. At first, I thought little of it. A large lamp covered its surface, but when I moved it, I saw two galloping horses etched into the wood. The image startled me. In Hissing Death, two horses played a pivotal role—something I hadn’t realized until finishing the book on my train ride home.

Back in Brussels, I attended a gathering of shamans, where several mentioned seeing a white horse behind me. I brushed it off. Later that evening, I picked a random card from a Tarot deck left on a table. To my astonishment, it depicted a woman with a white horse, titled La Mère—The Mother.

For years, I had believed my mother’s Chinese zodiac sign was the Tiger. It suited her—fierce and strong. But one year after her passing, while attending a Buddhist ceremony for her, I mentioned the white horse to my newly found half-brother. He simply nodded and said, "I’m not surprised—she was born in the year of the Horse."

A chill ran through me. My mother had been sending me signs all along, in ways I hadn’t recognized at first—the book, the table top, the shamans’ vision, the oracle card, and finally, her zodiac sign. It was as if she was reaching out, letting me know she was watching over me.

This experience reaffirmed what I teach—signs surround us, waiting for us to pay attention. They may not always make sense at first, but when we connect the dots, a greater truth emerges.

In Winks from Above, I guide readers to recognize and trust the universe’s messages. My mother’s presence in my life was brief, but even in death, she found a way to show me she was still with me. The white horse was her final wink from above—a reminder that love never fades but continues to surround us in ways both seen and unseen.