A week after announcing I was taking an “extended” summer break from writing new articles, something unusual happened that prompted me to write this one.

I’d love to hear your perspective on what I’m about to share, because I’m still not totally sure what to make of it.

This story takes place in Seattle. I was there for a week-long soccer tournament with my 17-year-old son. On a day when there were no games scheduled, I decided to see a movie by myself.

I had never been to a movie theater alone before.

To my delight, the new Brad Pitt movie was playing down the street from our hotel. I didn’t know anything about it, but figured, How bad can a Brad Pitt movie be?

So, I bought a ticket on a whim, and 30 minutes later I was in the theater nibbling on popcorn and waiting for F1 to start. 

The 4 pm theater was packed. Unbeknownst to me, it was the film’s opening weekend, so I was surrounded by hundreds of people who’d had the same grand idea that I had.

Ironically though, as full as the theater was, the seat next to me on my left remained empty.

This happens to me from time to time. I’ll be at an event or in a class of some kind, and the room will be completely full except for the seat on my left. Of course, I sometimes question whether I’m radiating bad vibes. But usually, I’m beyond thrilled to have the extra space, and I often imagine Tommy has claimed that seat for himself. I know it sounds silly, but it’s true.

So, as F1 started rolling, I thought about Tommy sitting in that empty seat and wondered if there was any chance that his spirit was really there watching the movie with me.

The idea wasn’t entirely preposterous. T loved going to the movies. He particularly loved inspiring sports films. And eating popcorn was one of his favorite parts of the movie-going experience.

As I became engrossed in the film, I promptly forgot all about the empty seat next to me—that is, until Tommy dropped into my consciousness again.

The first time this happened, I thought I heard him laughing alongside me and saying something to the effect of, “This is so much fun!” The second time, I felt him on the edge of his seat intensely watching Pitt race and rooting him on. As a chill rose up my spine, I truly felt like Tommy was overjoyed to be watching this film with me.  

This made me realize I hadn’t been to a movie theater in at least a year—if not two or three. In theory, this meant his spirit hadn’t been to one with me either during that whole time.

What a bummer for him, I heard myself think. He loved seeing movies.

Renowned psychic medium Laura Lynn Jackson once told me and a group of attendees at one of her seminars that our loved ones in spirit would much rather be out doing the things they love with us than sitting at home by our side grieving. The possibility of this being true has been a big part of my healing journey and continues to inspire me to spend more time living than grieving.

So, as a very studly Pitt loomed over me on the big screen, I asked myself, Do I keep feeling and hearing Tommy because his spirit is here?

As this question circled my mind, the movie started giving me some surprising answers.  

During one of Pitt’s most challenging races, I suddenly noticed a Tommy Bahama logo displayed on the interior of his car. While everyone else in the theater was staring at the track through Pitt’s eyes, I couldn’t take my eyes off that Tommy Bahama logo above the windshield.

That’s because I’ve often thought that Tommy’s spirit uses brands to get my attention. 

For example, there was the time I attended a massive soccer tournament with my younger son six months after Tommy passed away, and a little girl wearing a pink shirt with big, black letters that spelled “Tommy” on the front (with “Hilfiger” in faded gray letters underneath) came up to me out of nowhere and started kicking her soccer ball with me. In all my years as a soccer mom, I had never had a random child ask me to kick a soccer ball around with them before.

Coincidence or not, I felt hopeful that Tommy had sent her over to let me know he was there by my side and watching his little brother play.

Then there was the time I went on a trip after the one-year anniversary of Tommy’s passing, and my Uber driver on the way to the airport was wearing a green T-shirt with a giant “TOMMY” plastered across his chest (with, yet another tiny “Hilfiger” underneath). It was as if Tommy was telling me, “I’m coming with you.”

There have also been so many hot and sunny youth soccer matches I have attended over the last seven years to watch my younger son play, where someone next to me will open a jumbo Tommy Bahama umbrella and I simultaneously hear a fun little whisper: “I’m here.”

So, when I saw that Tommy Bahama logo on the interior of Pitt’s car during one of his final races, I couldn’t help but wonder, Is it possible that Tommy’s sending me a sign to let me know he’s here?

I felt him so strongly in that moment that I began to tear up.

Forcing myself to stay present, I clicked back into the film, enjoyed the ride to the end, and then gasped in the final scene as I watched Pitt drive off into the sunset with a large number “23” painted on the top of his car. 

To everyone else in that theater, that 23 was likely just a random number. But to me, it was yet another sign of Tommy.

As many of you know, 23 was Tommy’s soccer jersey number. TM23 was a brand logo he created for himself in middle school, and the TM23 Foundation is the charity my family set up to honor him and serve our community.

So, as the credits rolled and the theater emptied, I remained in my seat and started talking to myself again.

Is there any chance Tommy’s spirit had something to do with the Tommy Bahama product placement on Pitt’s car throughout this film?

Is it possible that T made sure the number 23 was in the very last scene of the movie in a way that I would see?

Did Tommy give me the idea to see this movie in the first place? And if so, did he know I would connect all these dots in a way that only meant something to me?

Now, of course, from a human perspective, I’m well-aware that Pitt just made the best movie he could, hoping to entertain as many of us as possible.

I also understand that some person or company was specifically tasked with making the best product placement deals possible for the film to offset production costs, and that Tommy Bahama was likely nothing more than a dollar amount to them.

And I can only surmise that the massive 23 on the top of Pitt’s car in the final scene is his or someone else’s favorite number.

But here’s my question:

Is it possible that while Pitt and his team were making all the human decisions necessary to bring this film to life, the spirit world was behind the scenes pulling some strings and sending some special messages to people like me who are open to receiving them?

And if so, then while I was receiving all the signs and messages intended for me, could there have also been other open-minded or spiritually curious individuals in that theater receiving unique signs and messages meant for them?

Is this possible? Has my imagination roamed too far?

Or did my summer experiment—doing less to make space for something more—start off with a bang?P.S. Día de los Muertos is coming up next month and as many of you know, it’s one of my favorite holidays to celebrate. Well, this year, a friend is hosting a special Día de los Muertos event in Merida, Mexico where she lives and hosts retreats throughout the year. If any of you are interested in knowing more about what she’s got planned, please see the flyer below or visit The Green Maya Project’s website for details. 🕯️🌼✨