I had always been comfortable with the concept of an afterlife, the existence of a spirit realm and the possibility that some of them were still hanging around. I had been raised in a family that remains divided on some aspects, but my mother’s side always quietly embraced it while not really discussing it often. My maternal grandmother is a gifted psychic that unfortunately had been lead to believe that it was “evil, and from the devil.” She had been punished as a very young child for her innocent recollection of a past life while driving past a hilltop in Arizona. She vividly remembered that as the very spot where she was killed by Indians. Her premonitions, when realized, scared the living daylights out of her family. The rebuke and scorn she received lead her to deny, repress and even try to pray it away. She did not want to be a “witch”. Now at the age of 90, she realizes it as the gift it is and is it peace with it. I must admit that it is annoying when she is always right ……
The other thing that really opened me up to spirits still among us is that I live in a house with a “visitor”. My three boys were the first to speak of him. They refused to sleep upstairs and would talk of the noises, doors opening, footsteps up the stairs and other occurrences. I did not disbelieve them, but I was not completely sold either. None the less, I allowed them the freedom to talk about it openly, sleep downstairs, and consoled them when it scared them. My “proof” came when my oldest son had a group of friends over and I had three terrified young teenagers tearing down the stairs and running past me like the devil was after them. All of them had seen the apparition of what is now known as the old man. He had walked from my youngest son’s room, past my son’s door and into the bathroom. For the record, I have not seen either of those boys since.
When I married my husband and he moved in, he was somewhat more circumspect about it. His theory was that our emotions manifested it, not an actual haunting per se. He endured my love of all things spooky and would watch the ghost hunting shows with me and even had lively debates regarding our very different views. I can proudly say he has completely changed his mind. The old man was nice enough to show himself to him very recently. No denying that buddy boy.
I have not had many dealings with the old man. I like to think we have an understanding. I have asked him not to show himself to me, not to startle me anymore, and to just respect us as we respect him. He still likes to pull some pranks and has shown himself to most everyone who spends a lot of time at our house but I think we are all at peace with it now. He really loves messing with my son’s dog when he comes to visit. He gets poor Jack in a tizzy. I have debated whether to just mention it right off the bat or let them find out for themselves. I feel for them when they finally decide to mention it. They always start out with “ I know you are going to think I am crazy, but…” I usually interject there and say, “you saw the old man?” The relief is palpable.
Our first ever foray into ghost hunting began with an offhand comment to my husband that we should try it and a plan to do it someday. We actually decided on the spur of the moment to do it when my oldest son’s girlfriend Retha was at our house and she said she would love do it someday. That was all the incentive I needed. We were fortunate to have the perfect place to start. There is an old cemetery on land that was once owned by my husband’s family. It is secluded, quiet and we had no chance of getting arrested for trespassing… all on my list of things I thought were important.
We grabbed some flashlights, a digital recorder, some water, a camera and we were off. I must be honest in saying I was not expecting much, but I did hope that we would get something, anything.
Once we arrived we wandered around the headstones for a while, reading, snapping photos and getting our bearings. After a while I got the courage to take the recorder and set off to see what I could get. I chose to start with a grave close to the fence that only had a rock with the intitials DW carved into it. I timidly began talking to him and asking questions. It was later discovered he was not in the mood to talk that night. I moved on to a few other places and then passed the recorder to my husband and went to talk to Retha and see what she was capturing with her camera. After a time my husband gave the recorder to Retha and we went over to an area where the graves of some men killed in an explosion on the family ranch were buried. They had been buried with only a rock and a crudely fashioned cross formed from rebar. The names of most were unknown and not all the men killed had been recovered. It had been a massive black powder explosion while working on the railroad trestle bridge. The area on the ranch is still referred to as Dead Man’s Cut.
We casually watched as Retha moved from one area to another and all the while I wondered if anyone was talking to us. We all gathered over by a bench and took a breather. It was a hot and windy west texas night. Before leaving, I decided to head off alone to see if there was anything else anyone had to say. That one decision would change everything for me. I discovered that night that you can talk to the wind and it will answer back!
The other thing that really opened me up to spirits still among us is that I live in a house with a “visitor”. My three boys were the first to speak of him. They refused to sleep upstairs and would talk of the noises, doors opening, footsteps up the stairs and other occurrences. I did not disbelieve them, but I was not completely sold either. None the less, I allowed them the freedom to talk about it openly, sleep downstairs, and consoled them when it scared them. My “proof” came when my oldest son had a group of friends over and I had three terrified young teenagers tearing down the stairs and running past me like the devil was after them. All of them had seen the apparition of what is now known as the old man. He had walked from my youngest son’s room, past my son’s door and into the bathroom. For the record, I have not seen either of those boys since.
I have not had many dealings with the old man. I like to think we have an understanding. I have asked him not to show himself to me, not to startle me anymore, and to just respect us as we respect him. He still likes to pull some pranks and has shown himself to most everyone who spends a lot of time at our house but I think we are all at peace with it now. He really loves messing with my son’s dog when he comes to visit. He gets poor Jack in a tizzy. I have debated whether to just mention it right off the bat or let them find out for themselves. I feel for them when they finally decide to mention it. They always start out with “ I know you are going to think I am crazy, but…” I usually interject there and say, “you saw the old man?” The relief is palpable.
We grabbed some flashlights, a digital recorder, some water, a camera and we were off. I must be honest in saying I was not expecting much, but I did hope that we would get something, anything.
We casually watched as Retha moved from one area to another and all the while I wondered if anyone was talking to us. We all gathered over by a bench and took a breather. It was a hot and windy west texas night. Before leaving, I decided to head off alone to see if there was anything else anyone had to say. That one decision would change everything for me. I discovered that night that you can talk to the wind and it will answer back!
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