Everyone on my father's side always said I reminded them - in every way - of their mother, (My Nanna Shirley Broughton).
We were living in Hawera, a small town in South Taranaki, New Zealand. I was 7 and in a week I would have been turning 8. I was so excited, but couldn't see any presents around yet. I remember asking mum and she said that they were at our new house.
9 years after we have moved into our gorgeous and enormous house - the oldest and largest in our small town of Kaponga - I was fifteen (and still am)! In the attic was a box of things that belonged to Nanna Shirley until she had died of cancer in October, 1995 when I was one. I don't remember her at all, though apparently I act exactly like her.
Going through the box, my father pulled out a clock (shown in picture). I was automatically drawn to the clock, even though I have no religious beliefs (you'll see what I mean in the picture). I put a fresh battery in the clock and hung it on my wall.
It was October when the song "Walking Back to Happiness" by Helen Shapiro popped on the radio, and I was singing along without noticing. My dad asked how I knew the song, but I was about to ask myself the same thing. "You sing just like your Grandmother, as you do whistle out of tune!" he would say.
That night I heard singing, the same song. This time I heard what sounded like my own voice. I checked all the rooms, nobody had their stereos on. I listened to the clock ticking, faster and faster until it slowed down and quietly ticked to it's flat battery.
I woke in the morning, completely forgetting the night before. I checked the clock. It said 6 past 6. It didn't seem right but I remembered it went flat the night before. I changed the battery and continued with the rest of the day as normal. At night, the singing again, then the clock. I checked it in the morning, and it read 6 past 6. I shrugged it off and decided that it was just me forgetting to change the battery. The next night, no singing, not even a ticking clock. I could've sworn that I changed it. In the morning I checked it, it was ticking.
The next night I heard the singing and the ticking. In the morning I checked the clock... 6 past 6.
That day I heard, "14 years the other night was your Grandmother's death anniversary." I had to ask what time she died. Dad said a few minutes after 6 in the morning, which is when I realized that these experiences had something to do with my nanna. I haven't put new batteries in the clock since those nights, and I haven't heard the singing. I ask her sometimes if she would protect me from my fears of something being there that's not suppose to. Our house being so old has a lot of history and more than a fair share of people have died there, I think she answered. I think she knows I'm scared to even hear about a paranormal happening in our house. I ask her quietly in my head every night. And I tell her goodnight and how much I would love her if she were still alive.
This story may sound pathetic and not even worth the time, but it means a lot to me and if anyone of you have had experiences like these you need to share them.