Monday, October 6, 2008

The Ghost Posts ~ The 1st Ghost I Ever Saw

I'm an incurable nocturnal pee-er. Handsome teases me that I have the bladder of a gnat, and he's probably right. When I was about 11 years old, I saw my very first ghost who just so happened to be my grandfather. If you didn't read my first story, you probably should so you can keep up.

It's ok, I'll wait...

One night during my 11th summer, I woke up to go to the bathroom. I crossed the hall from my bedroom to the bathroom and after I took care of business, I glanced out the window. And then I looked again. Standing down by boathouse, with his back to me, a man was cleaning fish.

When my grandfather lived in our house he had a table set up outside the boathouse door so he could clean the fish that he caught. I remember getting grossed out and usually avoided that part of the yard when he was doing so.

In my groggy 11 year old mind, I couldn't figure out why my dad, the only guy that could reasonably be in that spot, was cleaning fish in the middle of the night. He liked to fish, but nowhere near as much as my grandfather.

I opened my mouth to call out to him (we always had the windows open in the summers at night to pull in the lake breezes) and then realized that my dad was snoring in my parents' bedroom next to me.

Then I freaked out.

I realized who it was. It was my grandpa and he had died the year before.

This was just the first time I've seen him. On another urine trip (I don't remember how old I was) I walked out of my bedroom and was making the trip across the hall and smelled pipe smoke. Velvet tobacco (it came in big red tins) was my grandfather's brand and his huge LazyBoy that he spent the last year of his life in, was in the little study across the hall. I turned my head and didn't see him exactly, but a white wispy flash, leaving.

It took me a few years to actually tell my mom that I had seen him. She had a very difficult time after his death and even at 11 I knew telling her would only upset her.

It was almost comforting to see/feel him from time to time. It was nice to know he was still there. I did eventually tell my mom and she said she had similar experiences.

Hearing the garage door opening and closing, footsteps upstairs, doors shutting and the occasional strong scent of Velvet tobacco became so common, that when we were kids and we all heard this stuff, we'd just say to one another, "Well, Grandpa's home." and go back to whatever we were doing.

Not all of my siblings admit out loud to the crazy stuff that would happen. My youngest brother wasn't even born until 2 years after Grandpa died and both of my sisters were too young to remember him, but my brother who is 2 years younger than me, does remember him. I know he's seen/felt him because my Grandpa always wanted a son. Instead he ended up with 2 girls. But my brother refuses to discuss it. Not even the time we were fighting over something and we both saw a closet door open and then bang shut. Grandpa hated fighting.

Da-Nile's not just a river in Egypt and all that.

More to come!


Hey There! I'm Amanda! said...

My man traveled around the country on foot (Jack Kerouac, anyone?)back in the early 90's and hadn't talked with his family for going on six months when he had a dream he was fishing with his Grandpa on a dock and his G-Pa turned to him and said, "Why didn't you go to my funeral?" He called his dad the next day and found out he had missed his Grandpa's funeral the week before. Freeeaky.