Christmas Eve
On Christmas Eve, after everyone had just settled, I was alone in the living room. I scrolled through the music on our television/media centre and decided on Anne-Sophie Mutter's Beethoven pieces.
Within a second, I heard the Christmas tree behind me: it sounded as if it was shaking. I looked behind me and saw a single decorative bulb swinging wildly on the bottom branch and this was obviously the source of the noise. The bulb was swinging but ABSOLUTELY NO OTHER part of the tree -- including the branches -- was moving in even the smallest way.
As I sat there staring at the swinging bulb, it stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, but it wasn't a gradual loss of momentum: it simply stopped.
Immediately after it stopped, the same rattling sound came from beside me and in front of the sofa: I looked and saw that a frame on the mantlepiece had slid down and its picture -- of my grandmother as a girl and which had already had the word "me" written in her own hand just above her image -- had slipped out the top of the frame.
It was nice to know that my maternal grandmother was with me for the holiday.
Showing posts with label grandmother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandmother. Show all posts
Friday, December 28, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Catching up a bit...
Strange things have been happening lately. Besides the usual, that is.
Last evening, I noticed that my husband had placed a newly-received wedding photo of his parents on the mantlepiece. Well, it didn't really fit in with all the other frames in that area. My scheme is black-and-white and the photo is colour, 1950s; my frames are gold trimmed and the photo is framed with brown wood. So, I took it down from the mantlepiece and placed it on the radiator, face down.
Later tonight, as I went into the living room to grab my laptop, I looked above the fireplace: on the mantlepiece--the opposite side of the now removed photo--a double frame of my husband's paternal grandparents was (1) face down and (2) upside down. Clearly, it could not have simply fallen over: It would have had to have fallen and then turned around. It's possible someone is trying to tell me something.
Well, it's my living room and if one of his grandparents is upset, that's too bad! I haven't had any impressions of his grandparents, so I don't know...
Also, I hear 'Mummy' being called, extremely faintly, when anyone old enough to speak is actually out of the house. My baby is only 6 months old. It's happened at least twice a day but I haven't paid much attention to it. Maybe I should.
I keep seeing someone standing near the garage but it's only out of the corner of my eye. If I look there, the image is gone. Mostly, ghosts come in my dreams and my dreams have been a bit 'noisy' lately.
I remember when my older daughter was quite a bit younger, she used to talk about "Ollie", the little boy, who lived in the backyard in my turn-of-the-century potting shed. She doesn't talk about ghosts anymore.
My husband says he often thinks he sees our deceased cat on the stairs in the basement for a split second and, when he looks again, the image is gone.
When I was pregnant, we had plumbers come in to fix the pipes in the basement bathroom. My husband tells me that one of them pointblankly asked him: "Who's really into ghosts around here?"
To which my husband replied: "Oh, that's my wife. She's a well-known psychic."
I apologize for the delay in responding to the dozens of emails that I receive. With a new baby, it's hard to find spare time. I will get to them, tho'.
Strange things have been happening lately. Besides the usual, that is.
Last evening, I noticed that my husband had placed a newly-received wedding photo of his parents on the mantlepiece. Well, it didn't really fit in with all the other frames in that area. My scheme is black-and-white and the photo is colour, 1950s; my frames are gold trimmed and the photo is framed with brown wood. So, I took it down from the mantlepiece and placed it on the radiator, face down.
Later tonight, as I went into the living room to grab my laptop, I looked above the fireplace: on the mantlepiece--the opposite side of the now removed photo--a double frame of my husband's paternal grandparents was (1) face down and (2) upside down. Clearly, it could not have simply fallen over: It would have had to have fallen and then turned around. It's possible someone is trying to tell me something.
Well, it's my living room and if one of his grandparents is upset, that's too bad! I haven't had any impressions of his grandparents, so I don't know...
Also, I hear 'Mummy' being called, extremely faintly, when anyone old enough to speak is actually out of the house. My baby is only 6 months old. It's happened at least twice a day but I haven't paid much attention to it. Maybe I should.
I keep seeing someone standing near the garage but it's only out of the corner of my eye. If I look there, the image is gone. Mostly, ghosts come in my dreams and my dreams have been a bit 'noisy' lately.
I remember when my older daughter was quite a bit younger, she used to talk about "Ollie", the little boy, who lived in the backyard in my turn-of-the-century potting shed. She doesn't talk about ghosts anymore.
My husband says he often thinks he sees our deceased cat on the stairs in the basement for a split second and, when he looks again, the image is gone.
When I was pregnant, we had plumbers come in to fix the pipes in the basement bathroom. My husband tells me that one of them pointblankly asked him: "Who's really into ghosts around here?"
To which my husband replied: "Oh, that's my wife. She's a well-known psychic."
I apologize for the delay in responding to the dozens of emails that I receive. With a new baby, it's hard to find spare time. I will get to them, tho'.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
A House of Sound
I apologize for the absence. Life happens so . . . quickly.
My house has been kind of quiet as far as ghosts are concerned. After telling a particularly annoying ghost to leave (who, last month, despite a fantastic security system, opened a door to the outside sometime before we all woke up ), there has been nothing very significant around here.
Well, nothing, that is, except for some intermittent banging and loud 'thumps' and the sound of a baby crying. Scully -- who is also my biggest fan -- tried to convince me that the loud sounds originate at a construction site. I know they don't.
My maternal grandmother is making herself known. I don't actually get along with my mother and, about the time that this bout of activity began, we'd had a pretty heated exchange. We are still not really speaking.
As for the baby crying? That's new to me. I heard it just after waking up one evening and it was easy to dismiss as a sleep-related event after I realized that it wasn't my daughter. It's extremely faint and I think my sister heard it, too. (Needless to say, my sister tells me that sleeping over at my house really freaks her out at times. Considering that she's so skittish, I'm shocked that she actually does stay over.)
The only thing that has caused me to raise an eyebrow is my daughter's insistence that she hears noises in her room every night. I've been in a number of times to try to hear them and I haven't detected anything. There used to be squirrels and raccoons climbing around on the roof but, again, I haven't heard them. They may still be there but I think she's hearing something else.
Interestingly, my sister pointed out that my paternal grandfather -- whom I met only 2 or 3 times throughout my childhood -- had the name of Alfred (see here and here). The impressions that I have of the ghost look nothing like my memories of my grandfather: he is young with dark brown/black hair and he wears a white t-shirt. He has a sense of humour and is pretty laid back.
I apologize for the absence. Life happens so . . . quickly.
My house has been kind of quiet as far as ghosts are concerned. After telling a particularly annoying ghost to leave (who, last month, despite a fantastic security system, opened a door to the outside sometime before we all woke up ), there has been nothing very significant around here.
Well, nothing, that is, except for some intermittent banging and loud 'thumps' and the sound of a baby crying. Scully -- who is also my biggest fan -- tried to convince me that the loud sounds originate at a construction site. I know they don't.
My maternal grandmother is making herself known. I don't actually get along with my mother and, about the time that this bout of activity began, we'd had a pretty heated exchange. We are still not really speaking.
As for the baby crying? That's new to me. I heard it just after waking up one evening and it was easy to dismiss as a sleep-related event after I realized that it wasn't my daughter. It's extremely faint and I think my sister heard it, too. (Needless to say, my sister tells me that sleeping over at my house really freaks her out at times. Considering that she's so skittish, I'm shocked that she actually does stay over.)
The only thing that has caused me to raise an eyebrow is my daughter's insistence that she hears noises in her room every night. I've been in a number of times to try to hear them and I haven't detected anything. There used to be squirrels and raccoons climbing around on the roof but, again, I haven't heard them. They may still be there but I think she's hearing something else.
Interestingly, my sister pointed out that my paternal grandfather -- whom I met only 2 or 3 times throughout my childhood -- had the name of Alfred (see here and here). The impressions that I have of the ghost look nothing like my memories of my grandfather: he is young with dark brown/black hair and he wears a white t-shirt. He has a sense of humour and is pretty laid back.
Friday, July 21, 2006
What's Been Going On...
On Monday, we kept hearing large "thumps" around the house. Scully explained that they were the products of construction work next door. I didn't agree. I spend everyday in this house -- right beside the construction -- and, what I heard was the sound of a heavy box being dropped on the front porch.
I was in the bath when I first heard it and thought, "F---! I missed the Purolator guy!" (OK, I swear when I speak to myself.) As I'd stepped into the bath that morning, I'd forgotten about the possibility of delivery. I was awaiting the arrival of the rest of my daughter's birthday gifts and was worried that I'd have to go pick up a large box at a postal outlet with a toddler and a stroller.
Anyway, I jumped out, got dressed and ran downstairs: there was nothing.
The thump occurred at least a few times again throughout the day and I ignored it.
What was very frightening to me -- and it is very unusual for me to be afraid -- happened as I was trying to rest in my bedroom while the baby slept. The air conditioners in our rooms were on but I heard the sound of my living room door open and shut (a door that leads to the enclosed porch).
"Hello?" I called out, leaning over the upstairs railing. Why? I don't know. It's not as if I think a burglar would shout back or anything but what else do you do?
A second later, I slipped down the stairs, ready to close a door or to call 9-1-1, only to discover that all three front doors were securely latched. In fact, the doors leading to the porch have an old-fashioned style of lock that requires much more digital manipulation than those of today. It would be impossible to open these doors from the outside.
Confused, for some reason I chose to ignore my impressions of my maternal grandmother and of another, different ghost. I mean, I saw them but just didn't think about them. It was the day of this grandmother's birthday (which I'd also forgot).
That night, with sufficient responsibilities to erase all-but-essential data from my mind, I went to bed after locking up and arming the house.
On Tuesday morning, I awoke and went downstairs. I couldn't help but scream. The porch door in the dining room was wide open!! How long had it been open? Anything could have happened to my baby, to us, throughout the night.
Scully came down to investigate, assured me that it must have been unlocked but I was unconvinced. I know that I'd locked that door. I know that I didn't open the dining room door at all throughout the previous days.
I believe that my grandmother is here but it's not her behaviour because the activity is uncharacteristic of other visits to others in my family. Someone else is here, somebody more . . . annoying.
Just the other day, last Thursday, I was doing laundry and waiting patiently for my load to finish. After an hour it occurred to me that I hadn't actually heard my washing machine in the longest time.
When I went down to the laundry room, I was astonished to find that the lid to the machine was up -- which means that the machine won't run -- and, thinking that I'd been careless and forgot to actually start the laundry, I went over to put the lid down.
At the panel, I saw that the load was actually almost finished -- meaning, that the load had been interrupted -- and the knob had been pressed down (which means the machine was turned off).
I hadn't been down there at all. My daughter doesn't go down to the basement without myself or my husband and there's no way that she could have reached the machine's lid anyway even if she'd stood on a chair.
So, in the end, I'd forgotten again who I am and what I actually do for a living: If there's one thing I've learnt in the past twenty or so years, when you're doing renovations, activity increases.
On Monday, we kept hearing large "thumps" around the house. Scully explained that they were the products of construction work next door. I didn't agree. I spend everyday in this house -- right beside the construction -- and, what I heard was the sound of a heavy box being dropped on the front porch.
I was in the bath when I first heard it and thought, "F---! I missed the Purolator guy!" (OK, I swear when I speak to myself.) As I'd stepped into the bath that morning, I'd forgotten about the possibility of delivery. I was awaiting the arrival of the rest of my daughter's birthday gifts and was worried that I'd have to go pick up a large box at a postal outlet with a toddler and a stroller.
Anyway, I jumped out, got dressed and ran downstairs: there was nothing.
The thump occurred at least a few times again throughout the day and I ignored it.
What was very frightening to me -- and it is very unusual for me to be afraid -- happened as I was trying to rest in my bedroom while the baby slept. The air conditioners in our rooms were on but I heard the sound of my living room door open and shut (a door that leads to the enclosed porch).
"Hello?" I called out, leaning over the upstairs railing. Why? I don't know. It's not as if I think a burglar would shout back or anything but what else do you do?
A second later, I slipped down the stairs, ready to close a door or to call 9-1-1, only to discover that all three front doors were securely latched. In fact, the doors leading to the porch have an old-fashioned style of lock that requires much more digital manipulation than those of today. It would be impossible to open these doors from the outside.
Confused, for some reason I chose to ignore my impressions of my maternal grandmother and of another, different ghost. I mean, I saw them but just didn't think about them. It was the day of this grandmother's birthday (which I'd also forgot).
That night, with sufficient responsibilities to erase all-but-essential data from my mind, I went to bed after locking up and arming the house.
On Tuesday morning, I awoke and went downstairs. I couldn't help but scream. The porch door in the dining room was wide open!! How long had it been open? Anything could have happened to my baby, to us, throughout the night.
Scully came down to investigate, assured me that it must have been unlocked but I was unconvinced. I know that I'd locked that door. I know that I didn't open the dining room door at all throughout the previous days.
I believe that my grandmother is here but it's not her behaviour because the activity is uncharacteristic of other visits to others in my family. Someone else is here, somebody more . . . annoying.
Just the other day, last Thursday, I was doing laundry and waiting patiently for my load to finish. After an hour it occurred to me that I hadn't actually heard my washing machine in the longest time.
When I went down to the laundry room, I was astonished to find that the lid to the machine was up -- which means that the machine won't run -- and, thinking that I'd been careless and forgot to actually start the laundry, I went over to put the lid down.
At the panel, I saw that the load was actually almost finished -- meaning, that the load had been interrupted -- and the knob had been pressed down (which means the machine was turned off).
I hadn't been down there at all. My daughter doesn't go down to the basement without myself or my husband and there's no way that she could have reached the machine's lid anyway even if she'd stood on a chair.
So, in the end, I'd forgotten again who I am and what I actually do for a living: If there's one thing I've learnt in the past twenty or so years, when you're doing renovations, activity increases.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Where Is The Love?
So, I’m sitting at the supper table with my daughter and she’s insisting that she’s not hungry, trying to delay bedtime, long after Scully and I have finished the meal.
I can’t help ruminating: My paternal grandmother visited my brother for years and my maternal grandmother still visits and guides my sister. Neither of the two visits me! There have been a couple of isolated incidents. I see ghosts for other people ALL THE TIME but not my own grandmothers?
My preschooler daughter is pushing food around in her bowl while asking me to not be upset that she’s not eating. Distractedly, I assure her that I’m only upset because I love her and I don’t want her to be hungry while we’re all sleeping. Besides, I’m not really upset; I’m worried. By now, I must be staring into space.
“Yes!” I think, “One should have visited me by now!”
Suddenly, the A-string on my guitar — across the room — sounds beautifully and I’m stirred from my thoughts. The very interesting part? The note does not run its course; it stops less than halfway through.
So, I’m sitting at the supper table with my daughter and she’s insisting that she’s not hungry, trying to delay bedtime, long after Scully and I have finished the meal.
I can’t help ruminating: My paternal grandmother visited my brother for years and my maternal grandmother still visits and guides my sister. Neither of the two visits me! There have been a couple of isolated incidents. I see ghosts for other people ALL THE TIME but not my own grandmothers?
My preschooler daughter is pushing food around in her bowl while asking me to not be upset that she’s not eating. Distractedly, I assure her that I’m only upset because I love her and I don’t want her to be hungry while we’re all sleeping. Besides, I’m not really upset; I’m worried. By now, I must be staring into space.
“Yes!” I think, “One should have visited me by now!”
Suddenly, the A-string on my guitar — across the room — sounds beautifully and I’m stirred from my thoughts. The very interesting part? The note does not run its course; it stops less than halfway through.
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