#ghostarecool

With Halloween around the corner, it is the season of ghost, goblins and things that go bump in the night.  Most of us enjoy dressing up, living out our hidden fantasy of being a slut in public, overindulging in both alcohol and sweets and ransacking the stores the day after Halloween to stock on discounted bags of candy.  Sounds like a perfect Saturday night to me! 

How many of us truly believe in ghost or have seen one though?  Are some people more sensitive and open to seeing them than others or are we just crazy?  Well, I for one have seen my share of ghost and I believe in them.  Call me crazy but if that’s the case, I come from a long line of crazies.

When I was a child, I often heard stories from my mother about past encounters with ghost.  She told a story about my grandfather’s funeral and how he made his appearance known to all.  Apparently, his casket was brought to the local church for viewing.  In the front of the church, at the altar, there was a table to which the casket would sit upon during the memorial service.  Directly above this table was a light; a chandelier of sorts.  The story goes that the minute the casket was brought into the room for viewing; the light began to gently sway.  This apparently was observed by many including my mother.  It was also noted that this light continued to sway until the body was removed from the room. Way to go Grandpa!

Sure, it is possible that the entire crowd had too much moonshine and was swaying themselves and not the lighting from above.  Lots of things are possible.  However, it’s also possible that my grandfather was making his presence known to his family.  One last goodbye, in a dramatic “look at me” way.  

I have to admit, I wasn’t there to see my grandfather mess with this relatives so I can’t vouch for accuracy of this story.  However, I have a few stories of my own.  So turn out the lights, grab your flashlight and listen to this shit….

Throughout my life, I have seen what I consider to be ghost. Perhaps a better word is guardian.  I often catch a quick glimpse of a male sitting in the backseat of my car when I look into my rearview mirror.  I only see him for a couple of seconds but it is enough to know he is with me and that it’s the same man every time.   White male, elderly, clean shaven, modest dressed, with a rugged face but yet somehow kind.   He doesn’t freak me out (well he did at first) because I feel he is there to protect me, not harm me.  The world is right if he is carpooling with me. 

Several years ago, my boyfriend at the time, myself and another couple decided to ring in the New Year outside of Richmond. After we checked into the hotel, we went to a local tavern which was very old with a lot of history.  My friend’s husband use to go to college in Richmond and suggested we all go there for NYE.   After a few drinks, midnight was upon us and it was time to celebrate.  Wanting to capture the moment, my friend and I both handed our cellphones to the bartender and requested some group photos.  Let me just state, that this was a non-smoking bar back then…ahead of the times for Virginia.  The bartender was nice enough to snap a couple of photos on her phone and then on mine.  We continued to party and the photos were tucked away.

   The next day, over breakfast, we pulled out our photos and laughed about the evening.  To my surprise, out of several sequenced group shots, one photo caught my eye.  It was different from the rest; it included a visitor.   Unlike the other photos taken by the bartender, this particular one had a wispy white smoke-looking image surrounding us yet it wasn’t smoke.  As we zoomed in on the image to see what it could be, we noticed the blob of white above my head which had the image of a face.  You could clearly see the eyes and the nose.  Yup, we were photo bombed by a spirit.  As you can see from my cropped photo our drinking buddy, the tavern spirit, was having a good time too.

Recently, though, I had a close encounter with a familiar spirit of my late ex-husband.  He tragically died at the young age of 46 back in 2012.  He was known for a warped sense of humor, for example I’d say, “Hey Hon, can you make me a sandwich while you’re up?” to which he would respond, “Poof, you’re a sandwich!” He had that corny warped humor …always.  So, it is no surprise that he would want to get the last laugh.

After his funeral, we went back to the funeral home a couple days later to pick up his ashes.  In the office sat my oldest daughter, me and his youngest sister.   The director proceeded to present us with the large urn which held most of his ashes and then the smaller keepsake urns which both daughters and his sister had ordered.  Since we had to transport his ashes back to Virginia, I asked if there was a box that the urn could be place inside to protect it from breaking during the trip.  He said yes, and left the office to retrieve the box.  

As we sat around the desk, we were all admiring the pretty little keepsake urns before us.   My sister-in-law’s keepsake had a different design and as she picked it up for a closer look, we discussed the pretty oriental design. Upon setting the miniature urn back down on the desk, a wisp of smoke emerged from the top of the tiny urn.  Stopped midway in conversation, she looked at me and I looked at her and she asked, “Did you just see that?”  I was flabbergasted but had to admit yes, I too had seen the smoke.  Surely, they seal these things and that can’t be his ashes escaping from the urn.  She picked it up and attempted to unscrew the top.  Nope, it was sealed shut.  She sat it down again with a thud.  Swoosh, another thin ribbon of smoke emerged from the urn.  Wholly crap.  It did it again.  What the hell is going on?  This time, I picked it up and checked the seal.  Like a magician’s assistant, I confirmed that the top was indeed tight and that I had no clue what we could be witnessing.  

Then the thought ran across my mind….it’s my ex; he is messing with us.  So, as I held the tiny urn in my hand, I looked up and said out loud, “Ok, Jim, very funny.  You got us on that one.  Now knock it off.”   We all chuckled.  I then proceeded to place the tiny urn down for the third and final time. Nothing happened; the smoke was gone.   I looked around and said, “I guess he was playing a trick on us and he got my message loud and clear.”   From that moment on, the urn never smoked again.