I love love love Halloween. I’ve been so busy this month that I’ve hardly had a second to reflect. That changed when I walked through Wal-mart and saw the Halloween was cheap and plentiful. While I’ll probably get a handful of trick-o-treaters at most, I LOVE handing out candy and checking out the costumes. All I can say is these kids had better be thankful I don’t have plenty of money and time on my hands. I’d turn my house into a haunted house and and scare the hell-oween out of them. 😈
However, as much as I love my scary stuff, I have limits when it comes to ghosts. Yes, I’d take on a vampire or a werewolf any day over a ghost. My family has had too many ghostly encounters over the years and the stories to go with them. For the longest time, I wondered if we’re a magnet. I don’t think I am and I’m okay with that. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for my older brother.
When I was about five years old, a group of adults and us kids we were walking down a dirt road in south Georgia after having visited my grand uncle’s grave. He was buried the day before and we wanted to visit his gravesight to for one last goodbye.
On our way back down the LONG (freakin’ long to me because my legs were shorter than my mother’s forearms), we noticed my brother had stopped a few feet ahead of us. He turned and threw a rock into a bush (I think) before something in the distance caught his eye. He stared past our group, and then started smiling and waving like the friendly little snot that he was. Of course, the adults thought he was smoking crack because they couldn’t figure out who he was waving at. There wasn’t anyone in the cemetery except us. Now, mind you, this was in the middle of the afternoon, so there weren’t any shadows.
My brother replied, “I’m just waving goodbye to Uncle Dean. He’s standing right there next to that dog.”
I can’t tell you how many adults turned heads. Their eyes were bulging out of the sockets and every voice choked on silence. Next thing I knew, my little legs were off the ground and struggling to keep up with my mother’s long strides. Next thing I knew, she scooped me off the ground and started running down the road with the rest of the adults.
Now here’s the really spooky part. When the other family members questioned my brother about the guy he saw, Big Brother described him right down to the overalls, red shirt, and thick boots. There was even a nice shine to his bald head. A few days later, my other grand aunt found an old photo in a shoebox. Uncle Dean was exactly how my brother described him right down to the dog that was standing next to him. Mind you we had only met him once and he wasn’t wearing overalls. There was no way my brother could’ve gotten hold of that picture, so how he knew it was Uncle Dean, we couldn’t say. In fact, I think nobody wanted to speculate after that. We just accepted it and moved on with life.
So the moral of this story is, if my brother is seeing dead people, he’s not saying. I don’t blame him.
Do you believe in ghosts? Have you ever seen one? If no, then what do you think you’d do if you had? I know my answer. My behind is going in the opposite direction and it’s every man for himself. 😉