I remember the 70's being bright and sunny during the days, playing with the neighborhood children and making memories. When night fell, our house on Bannatyne seemed to take on a life of its own. My family was well aware of its capabilities. Thinking on it now, there had to have been many spirits that shared our house. Some were good and others, well, you know the story. Everyone experienced something. Everyone, meaning, my grandmother's family and her sister's family shared this huge house.
I was 4 years old the first time I saw a ghost. My mom sent me off to bed, a couple relatives were visiting for the weekend and they were all just in the next room. We occupied the main floor with my grandma and step-grandfather, while my grandma's sister and her family lived upstairs.
My grandma and my step-grandfather were working the nightshift. My mom left the bedroom door ajar so the light could stream in for my comfort. I turned on my left side facing a chair next to my bed. Why the chair was there, I don't know. I noticed something taking form on the chair. My body became paralyzed and I tried to scream for my mom but nothing escaped from my mouth.
It was my recently deceased grandfather sitting before me, smiling and wearing the dark suit he wore in his casket. I could see through him. I was terrified! I knew he wasn't supposed to be there and finally, after what seemed like a long time, I was able to yell and run.
After calming me down, my mom sat me in between the visiting relatives on the couch as she called my grandma to come home. I wasn't able to speak for two hours. My grandma and step-grandfather came home and we all stayed up until the sun came out.
I know now, my grandfather came to see me one last time and I had behaved ridiculously by being afraid but what did I know at the time? I'd have to admit, it's still scary hearing, feeling or seeing ghosts or shadow people to this day... I don't think I'll ever get used to it.