My grandparents’ house is a Victorian Queen Anne built in 1879. My grandparents bought it in the late 1940’s but before 1950, when my mother and her first brother were very young. The town they lived in, Wareham, Massachusetts, celebrated its 275th anniversary in 2014.
I grew up hearing tales from my mother about her sightings of two girls in the old house, one young, about 8-10 years of age, and the other one a teenager or very young woman. The little girl would peek at my mother and her brothers from behind the player piano in the front parlor and watch them play. The young lady would be coming down the stairs, all dressed up in a hoop skirt, and would vanish before she reached the bottom of the stairs. My mom said her parents bought the house and its contents from the previous owners after it had been standing empty and for sale for a while. The girls had died or were killed in the house, and their parents wanted nothing else to do with it, and nobody else did, either, because it was a “death house,” or so the tale goes.
I spent a large portion of my young life at my grandparents’ house, playing with my mother and her brothers’ toys, and even playing on the stairs and with the piano. Grandma or Granddaddy or sometimes my mother would load a roll in the piano so I could hear and see it play, but I never saw anyone peep from behind it. I played on the stairs that went up to the bedrooms, but no finely-dressed woman came down them with me. I was rather disappointed when I heard the tales when I was older, because I had apparently missed out on something amazing.
I didn’t see the girls when we were flown up to see Granddaddy before he died in 1997, either, and we stayed in the front parlor room. However, it seems the girls showed themselves to the hospice aide that lived with my grandfather for the last two years of his life. The aide told my mother that Granddaddy was apparently seeing my grandmother, all dressed in a green dress that she liked to wear at Christmas time. Grandma died in 1982. I would have dearly loved to see her again, even as a ghost.
The house has since changed hands, no longer owned by anyone in my family, and I wonder if the new owners and occupants have any ghost tales. Recently, as part of my family history project, I have tried to research the house’s history, but can find no basis for the tales. It’s a mystery that I do hope to solve in my lifetime.
As far as the house I currently live in here in Claxton, Georgia, it is newer than the house I spent much of my time growing up. This house was built in 1927, and I don’t find it as interesting. I do believe it is haunted now, though.
My daughter and I have experienced things in our house that lead me to believe my mother, who died in it in 2007, is still watching over us. In addition, I believe my grandmother, grandfather, and mother communicate with me, because I’ll have things just pop into my mind out of nowhere. One such example would be the blueprints for building a waist-high wall on the porch and screening it in. Apparently, that was something Mom wanted to do that never got done. I have built it myself, but it is only 2/3 done right now. When I have the funds and time, it will be completed. My brother-in-law was shocked at the detailed blueprint I drew for it, complete with measurements, because he and my sister were the only ones my mother told of the plans. I was working 2 jobs at the time and almost never home, except to sleep, so I wasn’t told. The first thing I was asked was how I knew about that. I told them that I woke up with the finished view in my head and sat down and drew it. I had no other explanation for it.
There are other incidents, too, such as the microwave turning itself on when no one was using it, but my daughter was snoozing instead of getting ready for school. It refused to turn off, even with the door open. It had to be unplugged, and my daughter dressed and ready for school before it would turn off. (That sure did wake us up!) Other times, it’s stuff like an overwhelming urge to fix a favorite dish or bake a favorite treat that does not go away until it is done, and done right, even through tears.
One of my mother’s best friends, one that I had always referred to as an aunt, told me a tale of my mother traveling with them recently. She and her husband and another friend were traveling in the motor home that they had bought in the 80’s, when we still lived in Massachusetts. The traveling companion turned to my aunt and uncle and asked if they knew a woman named Bonnie that was sitting across from her in the back of the RV. Shocked, my aunt and uncle answered yes, and the woman proceeded to relay a message from my mother to them, that she loved them, and takes turns watching over everyone she loves since she is now able to do so freely.
I have several other relatives that have passed away in my lifetime, and I often wonder if they, too, watch over their loved ones without their knowledge. Now, do you wonder who is watching over you?