Escorts upon Dying

While writing about the possible ghost in my house, I promised I'd write about the death escort I once saw.

I was eight years old. My older sister, Bekie, was ten. And our youngest brother, Brett was two. He was ill with some type of flu symptoms. He'd already been in the hospital recently, but sent home. Honestly, I was too young at the time to know exactly what was going on, but I felt the sense of my parents' worry.

We lived in a 3 bedroom house with the two kids' rooms right next to each other in the front of the house so that the windows of both rooms faced out in the same direction in our front yard. And these windows were large, expanding across the entire wall.  Bekie and I shared a room while the "little kids" all shared the room next to ours.

Anyway, one night I was in the living room doing whatever when Bekie came out of the hallway where our rooms were and whispered my name. Instantly I knew something big was up by her tone and I immediately felt her fear. "Clover, come here. There's something outside our window."

Usually I'd be the argumentative little sister, demanding, "What? Why?" Because that's just what I did before I ever budged. But just looking at her, getting that immediate onslaught of her adrenaline and that pinch to her voice, I was up and following her immediately.

We went into the hallway... following her lead of doing that spy kind of walking, you know, where you stay pressed against the wall and rush across the open doorways. Well, only one open doorway in our case, but we were small so the distance seemed huge. My pulse was on high alert when Bekie barely poked her head around the doorway to see inside our room. Moving around her I also looked in and got the shock of my life. From Bekie's behavior I knew this was something important but there was no way I was expecting anything like that.

Standing directly outside of our bedroom window, was this guy. I say a guy, but he wasn't exactly. It was dark outside and he was invisible. Well, not really invisible, but like a glowy chalk drawing that you could see the night's darkness through. Every detail, every wrinkle, every fold of his clothing, was lined in. He just stood there as still as a statue, directly in front of our room but his body was angled to face our younger brothers and sisters' room. He had a beard, wore flowy layered robes, and had his arms extended toward the little kids' room in that lowered come-give-me-a-hug type of posture.

I screamed and ran for my mom, Bekie screaming and running right alongside me, telling my mom about it. I honestly can't remember how we described him to her, though we were both descriptive little suckers so we probably told her how he glowed and was just standing there and everything. Mom didn't exactly believe us, maybe because we were generally creative. At least she didn't believe us about it being a ghost or however we described him. Or maybe she did, but didn't want to let on to us when we were already scared. She was already stressed out over my brother. She came up with it being the reflection off of a car (we lived on a busy road) or maybe someone just walking across our yard.

But no, we didn't see anything vague. We knew what we saw and it wasn't a flash of light. This guy/ghost/angel/whatever you want to call him was clear and in detail. Forty years later I still see him clearly.

Regardless of what Mom thought, she knew we'd seen something even though she couldn't see him when Bekie and I both were looking right at him. We were so adamant and scared that she grabbed the flashlight and took us outside to ease our fears. Uh, nope, didn't help. I don't know if he was still there while we were outside because I refused to look. I had my face pressed into my mom's hip, holding on to her for dear life while we three shuffle-stepped right over the spot we told our mom the guy was. I'm not sure if Bekie looked either or kept her face buried as well. I'll have to ask her.

My mom never did see him, but when we went inside and sneaked a peek out the window, he hadn't moved a muscle. He never looked at us or anything, just stood there staring at the other window.

At bedtime, we had both run to our beds and pulled the covers over our heads, and then argued about who should close the curtains. Our curtains didn't have a draw string so had to be closed manually. Neither of us wanted to expose ourselves to the ghost's view (not that he ever looked at us) but I wasn't going to do it. So even as she wailed that she was the oldest so the ghost probably wanted her, Bekie walked across the dressers in front of the window, pushing it closed as she hid behind the curtain as she went.

In the morning we woke up to very large men in our house (paramedics), scrambling, and then rushing out the door, leaving the rest of us kids with some neighbors who were also there. I remember looking out the door, seeing an ambulance pull out.

My little brother died on the way to the hospital.

That night the invisible man was gone.

Afterwards my parents wanted to know every detail of the guy, what they said must have been an angel coming to take Brett home. I know it gives them comfort to believe that.

Truthfully it gives me comfort too and I do believe that. I want to believe that. However at the time, it was scary. And the after effects weren't so great either. I wouldn't go into my room alone. If someone was with me (even one of the younger kids--like they could save me--yes I'm rolling my eyes at the logic) I was fine, but if I had to go in by myself I would run in, grab what I needed and high-tail it out of there. If it was clothes, I changed in the hall or bathroom. Isn't that sad for a kid to be afraid to go in her own room? Not really sure when I got over that.

And then later in life when I had a terminally ill child of my own, I used to glance out the window at night, relieved when there wasn't any invisible being waiting there. Isn't that awful? I think it is. No parent should feel compelled to look out the window to rest assured death isn't coming for their child that night. It was dumb. It was illogical. But I still did it. I don't know what I would have done if I'd ever seen anything. Certainly not be afraid like I was as a kid, but I'd probably run out there and confront him and beg him to go away.

Anyway, moot point. Never saw anything, mercifully.

I don't know why both my sister and I saw this guy when my parents couldn't. Because we were young? To bring my parents comfort? To give me comfort later in life? Just an odd circumstance? I have no idea. And although it was frightening, heck, I was frightened before I even saw him because I drew from the fear coming off my sister. Maybe if I'd seen him on my own first, I'd have a different reaction, then again, maybe it would have been the same jolt as how Bekie came upon him.

What was God thinking? A little warning please? Ease two young girls into it. Come on. I mean seriously. The spirit that came to tell my other sister our brother was going to pass away was much much kinder and gentler. That's another post I guess. But even though it was scary and had some negative effects I had to get over, my belief in something after death, in other spirit realms, in ghosts, in that we don't just die, not really, that, I'll never question. I've seen it.

More House Trauma

I wasn't going to write about this because I haven't told my youngest boys yet, but they NEVER read my blog or facebook so I'll risk it. 

So the air conditioning went out. Figures, right? But the landlord was real nice about it and sent a guy out who he used on this house before.

The repairman comes out. He kind of looked like Humphrey Bogart in a cap. Nice fellow though a bit quirky. Actually he'd fit in as a Stephen King type of character real well. At the front door, he asked, "Do you want me to come through to the back or I can go around?"

I have Southern hospitality so I ask him to come on in. He says, "I'm not a thief so you don't have to worry."

I wasn't worried. Besides we have rental insurance so we'd get new and better stuff to replace our crap. Steal whatever, I just want my a/c back on.

Anyway, out back he gets to work. He says he doesn't mind me watching him work because he likes people to know he's actually doing something because there are a lot of thieves in his business, but he's not one of them. Okay, good to know. Then he proceeds to tell me how he takes the magnet signs off his truck when he comes in this area because there is another a/c man with the same name that is a crook and he's afraid someone will pull him over and beat him up. Wow. He really is fixated on making sure I know he's honest.

Poor little Bogart. He must have been through the ringer at some point. Anyway, we're just having casual conversation while he's switching out the flux capacitor. Okay, there is no "flux" in the capacitor, I just liked saying that. 

Then out of the blue Bogart says, "You know what happened in this house, right?"

Oh crap. My stomach clenched. "Uh, no." We've been living here less than a week.

"The lady that lived here committed suicide. In the house. Yeah, they say she had problems anyway, but one day she shot herself. Was living here with her twenty-year-old son and his kid. The kid was the one that found her."

Ick, ick, ick. But that explains a lot of things. Like why we got the house so cheap. Why it was left so dirty. Like a twenty-year-old guy is going to clean it up after his mom just killed herself here.

Then little Bogey seemed to get worried. His face scrunched, causing more of those Humphrey Bogart lines that are deep enough they look like they might slide down his face. "I was right by telling you this, right? I don't know if you believe in those types of things. But if it was me, I'd want to know." 

"Yeah, I'd want to know." Do I? Um, maybe I don't. Well, too late now. 

He said he'd been in the house right after doing some work and went looking around for any evidence of...you know, blood splatter, but couldn't find any.

Oh. Right. Um, yeah. Why is this my life? I prayed and fasted for this house. Come on. 

Then he leaves and here I am in the house all by myself a little freaked out. What was that creak? Which room? When I washed the carpets, did I see anything? But then I was tired and took a nap and nothing came out to get me so...guess we are good.

Plus I'm proficient in rationalizing. First, I don't think God would make everything work out so well for us if there would be any residual haunting. If you believe in God, which I do. If you don't, then just chalk this up to me and my way of thinking and move on. Second, I've lived with ghosts before and it was fine. They are just people after all. It's when you live with demons that things go wacky, which my grandmother did. I should totally write a blog post about that. I'll link to it when I do. But since I don't invite evil spirits in or mess with Ouija boards or seances, because that's just asking for trouble, we're good on that point too. Third, anyone who is at the point of taking their own life clearly isn't going to be attached to a rental house. She wanted out so why stick around? If anything, she'd be attached to her son and grandson and follow them away from here. And last, I believe that souls get escorts into the spirit world. I've actually seen that happen. (I post about it here..) And I certainly believe that God is merciful enough to souls troubled to the point of ending their own life to send help upon their passing. 

So no way is the house haunted. 

When I told my husband, he was very kind and pragmatic about it, but that's the kind of guy he is.. He simply said, "Oh that poor house. The poor woman needed a peaceful place to die and we needed the house." 

To be honest I'm more icked out that there has to have been blood residue than I am with a possible ghost. But in my imagination and denial I'm thinking she would have done it on her bed, which is gone. Right? That's what I'm sticking to.  I feel like Charisma on the episode of Angel where she stays in her haunted apartment simply for the lower rate.

So, 500 dollars less a month and now only 23 months to go. We can do this. And my plan: Be good to this house, turn the atmosphere toward good and love and family so that the next people who live here will not have to worry about anything either and the poor landlord will be able to say that the previous occupants didn't have any problems. See, that's me, scattering sunshine all over the place. 

Fun huh? Just what you wanted to know right?